It was a crisp, cool, late autumn Friday, and I was back in Chrissy and Ally's ritzy neighborhood, working at the home of Donald and Antony. An argument could easily be made that they were my best customers. They called me often for lots of different types of jobs, and they were always a joy to work for—friendly, each with a great sense of humor, and theirs is probably the happiest and most well run household of any that I work in.
Donald and Antony are a gay couple, as you may have guessed, and they have two sweet, well-mannered adopted kids. I've done all kinds of work for them—everything from building a nursery for the youngest child, to hanging their considerable art collection. Every time I'm in their home I have a good time, and I look forward to their calls, which come often.
On that particular Friday they wanted me to hang another new painting, an easy job because it didn't involve rearranging an entire wall that time, so I left it for the end of the day and I got there around 4:00 PM. Antony and I were in their driveway chatting about life as I gathered my tools when a leggy, dark-skinned woman emerged from the house next door. She walked down her garden path and turned up the sidewalk, carrying what looked like a small overnight bag over her shoulder.
"Greta, come here a minute," Antony called to her as she passed in front of his house. As she got closer it became clear how strikingly beautiful she was.
"I've told her about you," Antony said quietly to me as she approached. "She's just divorced last month and she'll need help to keep her house going if she stays here. I hope she does, we love her."
When she got closer, Antony spoke up and introduced us. "This is Steve, the wonderful handyman I was telling you about. Steve, this is Greta."
"Hello Steve," Greta said, extending her hand to me with a nice smile. She had a strong English accent.
"Hi Greta, pleasure to meet you," I said, returning the smile.
"Antony and Donald told me about you," she said. "I'm glad to have the chance to meet you. Do you have a business card I could take with me?"
"Isn't he just gorgeous?" Antony said to Greta as I reached into my truck for a card. He and Donald loved to flirt with me, even though they knew I was as straight as straight can be.
"Antony, your terrible!" Greta laughed. "He and Donald are quite smitten with you," she said to me as I handed her my card.
"Truth be told, I'm quite smitten with then too. If I was a gay man I'd be running off with both of them," I said.
"Oh Stevie, you just made my day! Wait'll I tell Donald later," Antony said excitedly.
"I'll be calling you Steve," Greta said after we finished chatting and she turned to leave. She had a jacket on so I couldn't make a full appraisal of her obvious beauty, but her ass and long legs were quite spectacular in tight bluejeans as she walked down the driveway. She turned up the street, and went into another neighbors house.
Antony and I went inside, and he told me more about Greta as I hung the new painting. Her parents were from Kenya, but she was born and raised in England. She was in her mid-thirties, and she and her husband had met when he was attending a university in England many years ago. Now he was a successful business owner who traveled a lot, and he had numerous affairs. "A woman in every port," Antony said. Greta got fed up and divorced him. She got the house and a huge chunk of money, and Antony said she was like a new person since the divorce—all the stresses of an unhappy marriage washed away.
He went on to say that some of the other divorced women in the neighborhood had taken Greta under their wing, and that they got together on Friday evenings at the house Greta had gone into to drink wine and gossip in the hot tub. Imagining Greta's long legs slithering against mine in a hot tub gave me a jolt of energy, and I finished the picture hanging job in no time. When I was finished and cleaning up, my cell phone rang.
"My name's Lindsey Jacobs," the caller said. "I live a few houses up from Donald and Antony. I seem to have had a small power failure. Is there any chance you could stop by when you're done there and have a look at it for me?"
I told her I'd be right up, and mentioned it to Antony.
"Oh Stevie, that's the hot tub crew. You might be in for a wild night. Sounds like a set-up to me," he laughed. "Greta's sweet, but some of those other women are voracious man hunters. Lindsey's one of 'em. I wonder who's over there today. Looks like Lindsey's car and one other. Some of them walk though."
"Well, it can't hurt to have a look, right?" I said, winking at Antony.
"Better you than me Stevie, better you than me," Antony laughed. "Don't forget to tell me all about it next time you're here. I want to hear all the juicy details."
———————
I packed up and drove over to Lindsey's big circular driveway. I parked next to a Mercedes SL convertible and a sleek Jaguar sedan. Judging by their rides these were some wealthy divorcees. I knocked at the door and a moment later it swung open.
"Oh my, Greta was certainly right," the smiling woman said, giving me a quick once over. When her eyes made it up to mine she said, "I'm Lindsey Jacobs. Please come in."
Lindsey was wearing a black bikini, with a very shear black cover-up, unfastened and hanging open. It had fuzzy lime-green fur trimming all the openings, and looked like something from a Fredrick's of Hollywood catalog from the disco era. She was a voluptuous woman—Marilyn Monroe's healthy body came to mind—and looked to be in her early forties. She was tall, even in her bare feet, and she had a glass of wine in her hand. I introduced myself, and Lindsey brought me into the kitchen/family room where the other women were, her lime-green and black negligé flowing behind her.
"You've met Greta. Thankfully she alerted us to you being in the neighborhood, otherwise I don't know what we would have done. And this is Barb and Liz," Lindsey said, introducing me to the other women. They both had high-style haircuts and expensive looking bikinis on. Liz was pleasantly plump, as a lot of women are these days. Rubenesque is a nice word for it that seems to have fallen out of favor. Her tits were quite massive, and threatened to shatter her bikini top into little pieces at any moment. Barb was also well endowed, though less so than Liz, and the two of them had fantastic smiles. The older I get the more I realize how much I enjoy a sexy mouth on a woman—the way it curls when they smile, the way it moves when they talk—and these two had wonderfully sexy smiles. Greta, who I had met with her jacket on, was now revealed to me in her bikini, sitting with her long legs crossed on a modern designer chair, looking like a long, lean magazine model from the 70's, complete with a short, natural looking 'afro' haircut.
"We were hoping to spend some time in the hot tub," Lindsey said, "but the pump stopped working as soon as I turned it on. Is that something you could take a look at?"
"Sure," I said, "let me go grab a few tools, and I'll be right back."
I got a voltage tester and an amp meter from my truck, and Lindsey showed me where the electric panel was in the basement. I could immediately tell the breaker was in the 'off' position, which meant somebody had switched it off, and it didn't trip due to a fault. Antony was right, it looked like a set-up to get me there. I didn't mind though, and played along. I switched it on and asked Lindsey to go up and turn the pump on so I could test the amperage draw. Everything checked out, so I put the service panel cover back on and went upstairs. Lindsey met me in the kitchen, and through big french doors I could see the other three girls already in the hot tub out on the massive multi-tiered deck.
"Is this your last job for the day?" she asked.
"Yup, last for the week actually, unless I get an emergency call," I said.
"Oh good, then you must stay and have some wine or a beer with us. We've got some good snacks too," she said.
