An Acquired Taste

by Mason, Jude

  "I'll have it for you by tomorrow night. I'll also have a proper set of prints done up for you on Monday." He'd returned to business and she allowed him to guide the conversation. "I've got to get permits, but that won't take long. You're not building a separate structure, just adding onto an existing one. I should have those by Tuesday, Wednesday at the latest. I'll get that roof fixed while we're waiting."

  "I like your style. You've got the job, if you want it. Our business is done for the day," she said and rose to her feet suddenly. "We can't do anything else until I see your schedule, and we've dealt with the contract."

  He got to his feet so quickly that he tipped his chair. He made a wild grab to keep it from going over. The flush returned. He stammered, "Yes, I want the job. I'll phone you in the morning, if that's all right."

  "No, I'll phone you and let you know when I'll be available tomorrow evening."

  He gaped. It seemed he wasn't accustomed to being told what to do. It was also apparent from the bulge in his jeans and the brilliant flush, that he liked it. "Yes, ma'am. I'll be waiting for your call." He picked up his preliminary sketches and got his boots from the back door. She followed him through the living room and smiled when he squared his shoulders. He must have realized she was watching him. Once he got into his boots, he straightened up and looked at her, but didn't say anything. She opened the door. "I'll talk to you tomorrow." He stopped halfway to his truck and looked back at her, as if he was about to say something but thought better of it. He waved and got into his truck.

  Chapter Three

  Cynthia spent that evening in a blur of reflection and arousal. Memories of Tom and their life mixed with visions of Caleb and the things she wanted to do with him. Her bath turned into another bout of masturbation, and she marveled at how quickly she reached orgasm. Tired, she thought she'd fall asleep as soon as her head it the pillow, but it didn't come for the longest time. Finally, she drifted into a troubled slumber where she found herself immersed in a land of dungeons and flesh. She felt herself tossing and turning, and the frustrated lust that wouldn't leave her alone kept her from the deep sleep she craved.

  Just as dawn's first light poked its way into her room, she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep. When she woke, the sun was streaming into the room through windows where the curtains billowed in the breeze.

  She stretched and yawned, arching her back until she felt a touch of ache. She turned onto her side and checked her alarm. It was nearly eleven. A smile spread across her face. Caleb would be wondering.

  She lazed in bed for a few more minutes, enjoying the feel of the sheets on her naked skin and the fresh smell of trees and garden. It wasn't often she got to sleep in. She couldn't remember sleeping in this late.

  It was eagerness to make the call that finally dragged her out of bed and towards the bathroom. A hot shower, finished with a quick spray of cold water, completed the waking process. Dressed in a pair of green cotton shorts and a white T-shirt, and with a towel wrapped around her hair, she wandered into the living room. She opened the drapes and headed for the kitchen. Before she did anything else, she made coffee. With the machine bubbling away, she picked up the phone and dialed Caleb's number. After only one ring, his soft voice answered, "Hello." "Hello, Caleb," she said. "This is Cynthia Lyon." "Oh, hello. I've been waiting for your call." His voice had risen to an excited pitch. "The finished drawings are ready whenever you'd like to see them." "Wonderful. And the schedule?" "I've got that just about done. I said three weeks and I'll stand by that." There was a pause before he added, "Of course, I've never had quite as much of an incentive before."

  "I'll expect you this evening, say around seven." She kept her voice even, although she was trembling with excitement. "I'll be there." "Do you wear shorts, or cut-offs?" The question had popped into her head out of the blue, but as soon as she'd said it, she smiled. He'd look good in shorts. "Uh, yeah, I wear cut-offs when I'm working if it's hot." "Good, wear a pair this evening." "Yes, ma'am." His voice had dropped to a whisper. She was sure

  that he sensed what was happening. "I'll see you then," she said, and hung up the receiver. The afternoon dragged by. She spent a few hours working in the garden, transplanting and weeding. Every so often she stopped to stretch her back, and think of the evening ahead. She got most of the bulbs cleaned up, but the larger shrubs would need more work later on in the season. The Hydrangeas needed pruning badly, but that too would have to wait.

  Around five, she stopped to put her tools and gloves away. She was famished. The yard looked a hundred percent better than it had in months. A sense of satisfaction made even the broken fingernails and sore knees seem trivial.

  She took a quick shower and put on a soft, lavender slip dress she hadn't worn for a couple of years. Feeling refreshed, she had a dinner of cold ham and sliced veggies while sitting out on the deck. A cold beer finished off her meal beautifully. She'd almost finished the dishes when there was a knock at the front door. Looking at the clock over the stove, she knew it was Caleb—right on time.

  She made him wait for a few moments while she finished wiping down the countertops. Drying her hands, she went to the door and pulled it open.

  As she'd requested, he'd worn a pair of loose cut-offs, and a white sleeveless tank that showed off his lean, musculature beautifully. Instead of his work boots, he had on sandals. He had very little body hair, at least none showed at the top of his shirt, and that on his legs was sparse and light colored. In one hand, he held a folder, the design drawings and the schedule, she assumed.

  "Come in," Cynthia said and stood aside, allowing him just enough room to brush past her. He smelled of soap and man, and she inhaled deeply as he went by. His shoulder nudged her breast when he bent down and removed his shoes. Her nipples puckered, as if eager for attention.

  Pushing his sandals to the side, he straightened up. "Here's the drawings and the schedule." He held out the folder.

  She left him holding it while she looked him up and down. When he blushed, she reached out and took the proffered offering. Without looking into it, she closed the door and headed for the dining room. She tossed the folder on the table, and went for coffee, asking, "Coffee, would you like to join me?" Caleb hurried after her. Nodding, he said, "Yes, please." Pouring two cups, she brought them to the table and sat at her usual chair, looking out of the large glass doors. He moved to take a seat beside her, and sat facing her, his legs not pushed under the table but extended towards her.

  "Okay, let me have a look at these drawings first." Opening the manila folder, she flipped through the papers and picked out three sheets with drawings on them. She spread them out and peered at them. They were good. He'd provided her with three views, each giving her a different angle as well as the measurements. She loved the number of windows he'd managed to fit in, and he'd even added some color that lent to the outdoors feel to the room. The sliding glass door she already had would be re-used in the new room.

  "It looks wonderful," she said. She set them to the side in a small pile. "This is the schedule?" She indicated the remaining papers.

  "Yes," he replied. "Three weeks, laid out so it's easy to read. I hope it's what you wanted."

  She pulled the large sheet of graph paper closer and unfolded it. He'd laid it out so she could see what he should be doing by the day and the cost at each step. Scooting her chair forward, she went over the dayto-day stuff, and smiled when she noted how detailed the spreadsheet was. He even had it down to when the light switch covers should be put on.

  "Looks very good, very detailed," she said looking up at him. "Have you thought about the contract?"

  "Yes," he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and she glanced down. The crotch of his cut-offs was stretched tight across an impressive bulge. "I'm sure I can keep to my schedule, so I don't have a problem with signing."

  "Good." Cynthia reached into a folder she'd left on the table and pulled out both copies of the contract. Handing them to Caleb, she watched him read it again. She'd
made it simple, straightforward and to the point, no frills, and no escape clause. He sat back and took a deep breath. "You have a pen I can use?" She pulled out the pen she'd tucked into her folder. Handing it to him, at first she didn't let go. He tugged, but when she didn't release it, he looked up at her with his wide hazel eyes. She winked and let the pen go. He blinked and for an instant looked confused, but then lowered his eyes. He shivered.

  "The start date will be Monday, the fifth. That means you have to have it completed on thetwenty-sixth."

  He nodded, and filled in the dates. She watched him scan the paper again, and then he signed the first copy. It took only a few moments for him to fill in and sign both copies. She took the pen from him, lightly brushing his fingers with her own then signed just under his signature, and dated it. She handed him one copy, which he tucked in alongside the other papers he'd brought, and slid the other into her folder.

  "Monday it is. I'll have copies of the schedule made up today and the design." He picked up his coffee, and his hand trembled.

  Excitement or was it something else? She wondered. "You said you'd need to get permits, will those take long?" She turned her chair towards him. Her legs nearly touched his. Seductively, she crossed one over the other, and slid her toe down his shin.

  "Uh, no, I'll have them early Tuesday morning," he stammered. His face flushed.

  She watched him struggle, not to look at her legs, but his eyes kept drifting downward. "Good, you'll be able to get started right away then. I'll expect to have a copy of the schedule in my hands before you do anything. Not that I think you'd change anything." She let the sentence hang in the air between them.

  "You'll have a copy before I do anything." He shifted in his chair, his knees easing apart as he leaned forward to reassure her. He took a deep breath, and for a moment, she wasn't sure what he was going to do. He just sat looking at her, with an odd, confused look on his face. He finally blurted, "You never did say what kind of punishment you had in mind. Can I ask now, what you plan on doing?"

  Cynthia smiled; she couldn't help it. "You may ask." She took a sip of coffee to keep from laughing at his expression. Shock wasn't quite it, but it came close.

  He looked dumbstruck, confused, then swallowed nervously before saying, "What kind of punishment do you have planned for me if I don't keep to the schedule?"

  She looked him over, tanned, muscular, an impressive erection straining at the front of his cut-offs. He shifted again, one hand going to his crotch, to cover his obvious excitement. The silence dragged on. She let it. She enjoyed another sip of coffee, and the sight of him squirming. Finally, she relented and answered, "The punishment will be whatever I decide. That's what it says in the contract and that's all you need to know." "But—" "You can leave now." Her words cut him off. She smiled sweetly at him. When she rose and headed for the front door, she gave him no choice but to do as she'd told him.

  He followed her. He'd obviously never had a customer like her, and wasn't sure how to react. She waited while he slipped into his sandals, admired the play of muscles along his back as he buckled them. When he was done, he started to rise, but she put her hand on his shoulder and kept him down.Just for a moment, but he obeyed. She removed her hand and smiled when, for an instant, he stayed put before he got to his feet. He looked down at her, a little defiant, a little confused, and more than a little turned on.

  She moved passed him and opened the door. "I'll see you first thing Monday morning then. I leave for work around eight, so make it seventhirty."

  He walked passed her, folder in hand, saying, "I'll be here. Thanks." He turned and looked at her, shivered, then was on his way.

  Ginger bounded in and rubbed around her legs. She reached down for the cat. With him firmly in her arms, she waved at Caleb as he pulled out of her driveway.

  The rest of the weekend raced by. She slept well, ate well, and felt like she was finally coming alive again. Sunday evening, she went into the spare room—that room. For the first time since Tom's death, she didn't feel the tears. She looked around, admired the clean lines of the leather furniture, the swing, and the single easy chair. The two whitewashed walls adorned with all manner of toys and punishment devises she'd ever need. A large picture window opened up onto the side garden, but for the past few months had been kept closed and curtained. Along the remaining wall, waiting patiently stood the large wooden cross, with its cuffs and eyebolts. Beside the cross was the X-Frame, a large framework that would hold a full-grown man spread-eagle and upright. Eyebolts and hooks were screwed in every few inches along both sides and the top beam. Slowing walking around the room, she noticed the dust and cringed. "That'll never do," she said, and went for a dust rag.

  Ginger wandered in behind her, and managed to get in the way as she went from one item to the next, lovingly cleaning the light film of dust from each. An hour later, she was done. The room was spotless, and she felt as if she'd crossed some invisible barrier.

  Tom was really gone. The memories she had of him in that room would always touch her, but the memory of his presence didn't hurt any more.

  Cynthia slept well that night, and was up bright and early on Monday morning. With a breakfast of cereal and fruit under her belt, she was just sitting down to her morning coffee when she heard the rumble of a truck. Checking the time, she smiled—seven-twenty-five on the dot. A couple of minutes later, a knock sounded on the front door.

  "Good morning, Caleb," she said, noticing he'd worn cut-offs and a bright blue tank top. At least he could follow directions.

  "Here's a copy of the schedule." He handed her a rolled sheet of paper.

  "Thanks," she said and unrolled the sheet. She glanced at the numbers and list of tasks to be completed. They looked the same as she remembered. Rolling the paper up again, she asked, "Have you had coffee?"

  "No, ma'am, but I think I'd like a rain check, if that's okay. I'd really like to get those permits.If I'm lucky, I can get them in and signed today. Then I'll head right to the lumberyard so I can get the materials I need to start."

  "A rain check's fine," she said. A thought occurred to her, and she asked, "Hey, are you going to need to get into the house for anything?"

  "I'll need to get in later, yes. I may want to get in to shut off the power when I start cutting into the wall. I'll have an electrician in here later to hook your existing electrical wiring to the new addition."

  "Okay, wait right here for a sec." She got her purse from the hall closet and dug into the side pocket for her spare key. "Here, this opens the back door. Feel free to use the bathroom if you need to."

  Caleb took the key from her and slid it onto his key ring. "Thank you." "Okay, I'll see you later today then." "Yes, ma'am," he replied and quickly headed for his truck. She smiled and closed the door.

  * * * * Her morning dragged. Business was good, great in fact, but she'd organized things so well that for most of the day she did little but answer the phone and discuss new orders. Finally, at just after one, she called in Sammy.

  "You called," he smiled cheerfully around the partially opened door. The man was dressed outrageously. He wore a bright pink shirt over silky black slacks. His shoes were white loafers with gold chains strung across the tops, and looked as if he'd raided some pimp's closet. Her customers loved him, though, and he was a dream to work with. "Yeah, I called," she laughed. "Get your butt in here." "Oh, I love it when you're so forceful," he beamed, and then he too laughed. They had a special relationship. Each had helped the other through some tough times and their banter would have made the political correction police cringe. Sammy pulled up the chair in front of her desk and asked, "What's up, Cyn?"

  "Nothing, Sammy, I just wanted to let you know I hired someone to do that work on my house that we were talking about last week."

  "Oh, perfect," he clapped his hands together. "Did you use the one's I told you about?"

  "'Fraid not, hun," she said, "I called them and got nothing but rude. They said they couldn't start right
away and to be honest, I got the impression that they didn't need the work, or want it."

  "Oh, really? Well, their loss for sure. So, did you phone that other one—the three generation place?"

  "Yeah, and that's who I got. And, you should see the guy who came to do the dickering." For emphasis, she licked her fingertip, turned her butt, and made a hissing sound as if she'd burned her finger touching it. "Hot, hot, hot!" He laughed. "Any chance he likes boys?" "Nah, sorry, Sam, this one's mine." As she said it, she realized that she meant it. She wanted this man. "What I really called you in here about is, it's going to take three weeks to get the work done, the business is going great, and I'm doing a lot of sitting here doing nothing. So, I'm going to keep coming in for the mornings, and unless there's an emergency, I'll be leaving at noon."

  "Works for me. If something comes up I can't handle, I'll just phone." He looked at her, and something of her excitement must have showed. In a more serious tone, he said, "It's about time you started to live again.This guy must be something special."

  She felt a rush of excitement that she quickly tried to squash. "He's nice. I don't know, Sammy. He's just nice."

  "Hey, nice is good." He reached across her desk and held out his hand. She took it and he squeezed hers. "Now take off. I can take care of the office. If anything happens and I need you, I'll call, or it can wait until tomorrow." "Thanks, Sammy, you're a dream." "Yeah, yeah, I know, I just wish some of those boys at the club would realize it." He puckered his lips and blew her a kiss as he got up and scampered, prettily, out of her office.