There was this one time I walked in on a girl as she was pleasuring herself.

No kidding. Her name was Mandy Summers, and she called to ask if I would come over to fix a few things around the house. Nothing major, just little odds and ends that she reckoned would take me a couple of hours at the most.

“Anytime Tuesday afternoon is fine,” she assured me. “Got the day off.”

I detected something in her voice. A hint of sadness, maybe? My attempt at a joke fell flat; she either had no sense of humor, or she just wasn’t feeling it. Anyway, a job’s a job, and she lived just ten minutes away, so I readily accepted.

I arrived at a cute little house in a tidy neighborhood and pulled into her driveway. I’d never seen a lawn so green and perfect, and the mulch around the plant beds must have been combed. It took a moment to realize there was a cozy wraparound porch behind those meticulously manicured spruces. The front door was a deep, shiny red, with an equally shiny bronze knocker.

The owner was a neat freak.

I took a moment to rummage around for my notes—the list of small jobs she needed doing—and waited for her to come out to greet me. She didn’t show, so I climbed out of the truck, slammed the door, and sauntered up the steps.

Just as I was lifting the heavy knocker, I became aware of two things: first, the tinny sound of music, and second, a whispered moaning. When I glanced to my left, I froze in place.

A raven-haired beauty reclined in a rocker, her bare feet up on a coffee table, her knees spread wide. She had earbuds in, and whatever she was playing had to be causing some real damage, it was so loud. Because her eyes were shut tight and her head tilted back, she didn’t see me.

But I saw her.

Her loose plaid skirt was pulled up to her hips, revealing a pair of smooth bare legs. She had her right hand clamped to her crotch and was massaging herself quite fiercely, causing her to let out soft cries. The red t-shirt she wore strained at her breasts, and whether she wore a bra or not, her nipples were hard.

I realized I was still holding the brass knocker. I let it down very slowly, then backed away from the porch. Unfortunately, I missed a step and toppled backward. Instincts cut in, and I twisted and landed as best as I could—but my noisy metal toolbox went flying. It crashed down and spilled its contents.

“Fuck,” I muttered, immediately crawling over to pick everything up. Shaking, I threw in the hammer, wrenches, screwdrivers, small boxes of screws and nails, blades for my multitool . . .

“Oh my God,” Mandy said, appearing on the porch.

I was mortified. “I, uh . . . sorry, I just tripped on a rock and . . .”

She dashed down the steps just as I was standing up. I stuck out my hand. “Charlie Wedge. We spoke on the phone.”

She hesitated just for a moment, brushed her hand on her skirt, and lightly took my hand. “Mandy Summers.”

I don’t do light handshakes, so I felt the moistness on her fingers. I pretended not to notice, though.

“Well, shall I get started?”

I think she was relieved that I hadn’t caught her mastubrating. Well, I had, but she didn’t know that. She showed me into the house but asked me to take my shoes off first. I obliged, noting how the place was absolutely pristine.

“So I need this shelf,” she said, pointing to the box she’d picked up from Lowe’s, “to go here.” She gestured at the wall. “Centered between the door frame and the corner, please. This height.” She actually used her chin as a guide to the desired height. She must have thought about that quite a lot already.

“Got it,” I said.

I got stuck in, and it didn’t take long. When I was done, I found her perched on the sofa, knees together this time, her hands on her knees. She looked pensive.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yes, thanks. Just . . .” She shrugged. “Go ahead and fix the sticky kitchen door, if you don’t mind. That’ll probably take a while, right? I’m going to take a quick bath.”

Ah, I thought with an inward chuckle. “Okay, I’m on it.”

I worked on the door for a while, but to be honest, I was distracted at the thought of Mandy in the bathtub, probably masturbating. I drifted to that corner of the house and noted with surprise that the door was open. I could hear little splashes. And soft gasps.

Okay, so the porch incident had seemed accidental, although it was kind of crazy to be doing that right there while wearing earbuds and knowing I might show up at any time.

But this? Pleasuring herself in the bathtub and leaving the door open while I’m wandering about? That was practically an invitation.

I popped my head around the door. She had her eyes closed again, head tilted back, right hand between her spread legs. Her knees and thighs were wet, but I couldn’t see much more than that because the green-colored soapy water was deep and spilled over her belly and chest.

She had no music this time. Praying I’d read the signs correctly, I cleared my throat. “Do you need any help with—”

The bathtub exploded as she jerked upright with her hands clasped across her breasts. “What the hell?”

“Oh, shit, sorry. I thought . . . I thought maybe . . .”

“You thought what?”

I relaxed a little. She didn’t seem too angry, just . . . startled? As I stood there like an idiot, she leaned forward to pull the plug, then twisted toward me and nodded at a towel hanging on a hook.

“Hand me that, would you?”

“Sure,” I mumbled.

When I passed it to her, she calmly let go of one slick breast to take it. I caught an eyeful of her hard nipple. The view only lasted for half a second, and then she had the towel clutched to her chest.

“Turn around?” she said softly.

I spun on my heels. “Jeez, I’m sorry. I’ll get back to work.”

It wasn’t until I was putting the kitchen door back on its hinges that she reappeared, sliding into view so quietly that she made me jump. She’d put on her red t-shirt again . . . but that was all. It clung to her, with damp patches all over. She absently tugged her down to the very tops of her thighs.

“Did you get it?” she asked, stepping closer.

“Think so.” To prove it, I popped in the third hinge pin and casually swung the door shut. It clicked into place without any effort.

“Fabulous,” Mandy said with a smile.

“And onto the next job. What’s next?”

She started to lead me somewhere, then paused and turned back. “I like women. Just . . . so you know.”

Her statement dawned on me about two seconds later. “Oh. Well, shit. I mean, that’s . . . that’s great.”

She laughed at my obvious confusion, then glanced at the floor. “I, uh . . . I was daydreaming about Lauren. She left me last week, and it’s kind of hard being alone.” Lifting her t-shirt a little, she added, “Hence, you know . . .”

I was pretty stunned that she was showing me the lips of her clean shaven pussy. I’m pretty sure my mouth hung open.

She laughed again, dropped her shirt, and turned away. But she wasn’t done yet. Rotating on the balls of her feet so that her legs ended up crossed when she faced me again, she wagged a finger at me.

“Now, if you were a girl, I’d be interested. I’d have hired an odd-job woman if I could have found one.”

“Hey, if you close your eyes, I can be real quiet,” I promised. “Not a word from me.”

“Maybe if you just stop interrupting me, I might get it done. That’s twice now.” She smiled. “You want to put the new light fixture up for me?”

With that, she padded away, curling her finger over her shoulder to make sure I followed. I watched the underside of her bare buttocks as she walked. Her body was still wet, and the t-shirt clung to her curves. She left wet footprints, which surprised me since she was such a neat freak.

I hate putting up light fixtures. The old one was a pain in the ass to take down, and the new one was equally annoying. Standing there on a stepladder, I was actually beginning to sweat from the exertion of holding my arms over my head for about fifteen minutes while trying to get the fucker to play ball.

Mandy giggled every time I swore, which helped lighten my mood. “Damn you, you fucking motherfucking fuck,” I growled as the damn wire slipped free of my grasp again. “Usually, these fucking things have a hook you can hang all the weight on. Not this fucker, though. Oh no, this fucker’s a motherfucking fuck!”

She laughed harder. “Do you need help?”

As soon as she said that, I knew I did need help. “Yeah. Can you climb up here and hold it for a minute? My arms are dead.”

I stepped sideways so she could squeeze her way up the ladder with me. When she made it to the third step and took over from me, I climbed down and sighed.

“That’s better. You can hold the fucker for a while.”

“This thing’s heavier than I thought,” she mumbled.

I was too distracted by the view to answer straight away. With her arms held high, her t-shirt had pulled up to her waist. I admired her bare butt for a moment.

She shifted her foot, jerked suddenly, said “Fuck,” then steadied herself.

It was just a split-second thing, but I instinctively reached for her and planted my hands on both sides of her waist, her bare ass inches from my face. “You all right?”

“Sure. Just . . . you know, take over again when you’re ready, Mr. Handyman.”

I’m pretty sure she meant now, but I had some dirty thoughts and suddenly couldn’t give two shits about the light fixture. I moved my hands down to her bare hips, then back up under her shirt, pushing it even higher.

“What—” she gasped.

“Don’t want you falling off and breaking an ankle,” I muttered, moving closer and hugging her tight. My face pressed against her butt as I slid my hands all the way around her waist.

“Charlie Wedge!”

I slipped my right hand lower and found her smooth, hairless pussy. For a second, my fingertips caressed her soft opening . . .

And then the light fixture came loose, and she gasped, and as her arm swung down with the weighty object, I caught it with my left hand and caught her with my right.

She toppled back onto me. With my right hand still inside her shirt at the front, and her shirt yanked up over her belly, we kind of froze like that while I carefully put the light fixture on the nearby counter.

Since she made no effort to step clear, I went ahead and slid both my hands up her shirt. She gasped as I took hold of her breasts and squeezed gently.

I think I could have fondled her titties a while longer, but something ruined the moment. That something was my rapidly hardening cock.

“Oh,” she said suddenly, breaking free of my grasp and spinning around as she tugged her shirt down. She pointed directly at my crotch. ‘Nope. No sir. Sorry, but . . . just no.”

I swear she gave a shudder as she swept past me.

That might have been the first time a girl had shown such distaste for my manhood. I should have been upset and hurt, but . . . I wasn’t. Surprised at how unyielding she was in her sexuality, perhaps. This girl not only liked other girls, apparently she really found a man’s penis unattractive.

Sighing, I figured that was the end of it. But as I finally got the motherfucking light fixture installed, I heard her again—soft cries and moans coming from her bedroom.

I was careful this time. Peering in, I found her spread naked on the end of the bed where she’d sat, ripped her t-shirt off, and then just flopped backward. With her feet on the floor and knees wide apart, she had the fingers of her right hand deep inside her vagina. She plucked at a nipple with her left.

Rather than tear my clothes off and launch myself on her, I dropped lightly to the floor and crawled closer. As I moved in between her thighs, I gently laid my hand on hers to let her know I was there.

She didn’t flinch. She simply moved her hand away and started caressing both breasts.

That left me with full access to her hot and very moist cunt. I went straight in with my tongue as deep as I could manage. She tensed and arched her back, pushing her knees even wider apart.

I shoved my face in, kissing and licking and probing, enjoying her wetness. Meanwhile, my cock was busting to escape. I had to tug at my pants a bit, but I kept it hidden for her sake. She was trying to imagine me as some chick, and I didn’t want to spoil it for her.

Man, she started bucking like crazy. The juices were flowing out of her vagina, all over my cheeks and nose as well as down my chin. She cried out and tried to grab my hair, but she couldn’t quite reach and flopped back on the bed. Seconds later, it was like she had a seizure, all stiff and shuddering while a drawn-out moan escaped from her lips.

And as her orgasm abated, I gently kissed her wet pussy one last time and backed slowly from the room on my knees.

It was about ten minute later when she emerged, and by then I was busy packing up my stuff. She sidled into the kitchen with a loose robe on—silk and pink, and hanging open a few inches.

“I needed that,” she said, running her fingers lightly over her pussy. She leaned back against the counter, propping herself on her elbows. This drew her robe open a little wider. “I got lucky. Some girl must have popped in and finished me off. I don’t think I would have orgasmed without her.”

“Oh, you mean that woman who came in just now?” I smiled and winked. “I wondered what the hell was going on when she just wandered into your room like that.”

She grinned and said nothing. She didn’t move, either. Just stood there with her robe falling open even wider. One nipple peeked out.

I stepped closer and whipped it open all the way. She still didn’t move, so I grasped her breasts and caressed them while she stared at me with narrowed eyes.

Then she gave me a gentle push in the chest. “Thank you, Mr. Wedge, for your excellent work today. Everything seems to be in good working order.”

I sighed and stepped back, looking on ruefully as she pulled her robe shut and tied it. Well, at least her nipples were still hard.

“I’ll be off, then,” I said. “Let me know if you need anything else. You know, like if something needs lubricating . . .”

“Or unblocking,” she agreed. “Will do.”