That day, I sat at my computer, trying to think of the next chapter of my novel. I'd been working on the same chapter for about a week, stuck on the fate of a character I had brought close to death in the chapter before. It worked for the plot, but I was stuck with the question of whether to let the character die or have her survive the fall. Both seemed logical, but how would it affect the path of the story? Would I lose the audience? I only had a month to finish the novel according to my contract as it was. Then my publisher would start knocking on my door.
My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on my apartment door. Was my publisher here already? No, I remembered. I had called the maintenance line about a leak under my kitchen sink. That was probably them.
I opened the door, expecting to face a greasy, overweight guy with five o-clock shadow carrying a toolbox. Imagine my shock at the sight of a young Hispanic woman in jeans and a T-shirt. The only thing that matched my imaginary plumber was the toolbox she carried. I guessed her age in the early twenties. She stood less than five feet tall, looking up at me with large brown eyes. She had long, black hair tied back in a ponytail. Dark oil stains covered parts of the T-shirt, but they did nothing to take away from the bulge of her breasts underneath. The T-shirt didn't quite come all the way down to her waist, and I could see a slip of her bare stomach before it vanished into her jeans. The jeans hugged her wide hips and thighs very nicely.
She smiled up at me with full lips. Her voice had a touch of a Spanish accent. "Hi, I'm with maintenance. You called about a leak in your kitchen?"
It took a moment before I could speak. "Oh, yeah. Come on in."
"Thanks." The woman walked in, looking around the apartment. "Nice. Like what you've done with the place. I'm Emma, by the way."
"Charlie. Nice to meet you. Kitchen's this way."
I headed for the kitchen, wishing I could have imagined it would be a gorgeous woman coming to fix my sink. I only wore a pair of plain gray sweatpants and a plain white undershirt. I didn't even have shoes or socks on. The tiles felt cold on my bare soles as I walked into the kitchen and pointed to the sink.
"Thanks." Emma set down her toolbox and bent over to open the doors under the sink. I couldn't help glancing down at her jeans as they stretched tight over the round and firm cheeks of her butt. I couldn't help imagining what lay underneath. When she straightened and turned around, I forced myself to tear my gaze away and focus on her.
Emma's mouth curved up in a smile. "I know what you're thinkin'."
Uh-oh. I tried to look casual as I raised my eyebrows. "Really?"
Emma spread her hands and waved them a little in the air. "Yeah. You're thinkin', 'I was expecting some big Italian guy in overalls and a plumbers' crack,' not a little girl like me."
I laughed, almost sighing in relief. She really hadn't guessed everything I had been thinking. "Oh, no. Well, I mean, sort of, but it's no big deal."
Emma giggled as she knelt down to open her toolbox. "I get that all the time. My dad taught me plumbing. I don't look like a plumber, but I know my stuff."
"Of course. I believe you."
"But I can do the rest of it." Emma stood up, turned around, and looked over her shoulder at me while she pulled down her jeans in the back, exposing an inch of the crack of her butt. "That more like it?"
I laughed, partly because it was funny, and partly trying to cover up how turned on I was. I tried not to stare too hard at the cleavage poking out of her jeans, and how easy it was to follow it down and trace the curves of her buttocks through the cloth.
Emma giggled some more, then got down on her knees in front of the sink. She hadn't pulled up her jeans, and I couldn't help drinking in the rounded cleavage of her rear vanishing into them.
I completely forgot my work then, just enjoying being around Emma. She did know her stuff. I watched her work on the sink with interest, and the sight of her body with more interest. When she bent over, I admired her ass. When she sat up, I watched the front of her T-shirt mold itself to her full breasts. I was addicted. And she wasn't bad companionship, either. It turned out that we had both grown up in the same area. We had even gone to the same high school, and we laughed about the teachers and students we remembered.
We also talked about our families, and my heart melted hearing her talk about her mother who had died young, leaving her to be raised by her father. By the time an hour had passed, I had made up my mind that I had to have her.
She finally made one final turn on a pipe with a wrench and got to her feet. "All done. She's as good as new."
"Thanks," I said, my mind racing for excuses to keep her around. "Can I get you something to drink?"
Emma tossed her wrench back into her toolbox and braced her hands on her wide hips. "Sure. Soda's fine. Pepsi if you have it."
I went to the fridge, opened the door, and thanked myself for not drinking the last can of Pepsi the night before. "Just happen to have one left."
I tossed her the can and got a grape soda for myself. She popped open the can, gulped some of it down, and leaned against the counter.
"So I've done all the talking," Emma said. "Tell me about yourself. You live in this apartment alone?"
"Yeah, just me. I used to have a roommate, but he skipped out on the rent one too many times."
"Nice." Emma took a sip of her Pepsi, eyeing me over the edge of the can. "So I guess your girlfriend must like having this place all to herself then, huh?"
"Oh, I'm between girlfriends right now."
Emma's smile pricked up in one corner. "Oh, now how can that be? A fine-looking man such as yourself is single?"
I laughed, feeling my cheeks warming in a blush. "Yeah, well, spread the word. Maybe that'll change."
Emma set the Pepsi down on the counter and leaned one elbow against it. She braced her fist on her chin and looked up at me with her crooked smile. "Oh, I'm not telling any of my girlfriends. I want you all to myself."
My laughter tapered off, hardly believing my ears. I had expected to dance around the obvious for a little while, and was unprepared for the direct approach. I found myself mumbling like an idiot, trying to think of my next move.
Emma giggled and lowered her eyes. "You know, I seen you around the complex. I was hoping you'd be here when I came to fix your sink."
"Really? Well, I haven't seen you before, but if I had known there was a plumber here this cute, I would've called sooner. I take it you're single?"
Emma cocked her head to one side, letting her ponytail fall to one shoulder. "Yeah, I ain't hooked up with nobody. I just got off a bad relationship and I'm not really looking for anything serious. Right now, I'm interested in having fun, you know? That okay with you?"
"Sure is." I let my gaze drop down to take in the neckline of her shirt, which had fallen down to expose the dark canyon of her cleavage. "I'm all into having fun."
"Good. Then let's have some fun." Emma turned away from me, smiling coyly over her shoulder as her hands worked at the front of her jeans. The jeans loosened and slipped down her legs to the floor. They left her muscular legs cocked before me, and I followed them up to the thong that cradled the cheeks of her perfect ass.
Emma watched my expression from over her shoulder. "I seen you checking me out all this time. Thought maybe you'd like a better view."
I stepped closer to her. "Very nice. I do love that view. You have an amazing body."
Emma giggled, then turned around to face me. I admired the front of her lacy black thong climbing up between her thighs, tracing it down to the treasure between them. "You're not so bad yourself."
She reached out to run her fingers up my left arm. Her hand was cold from handling the water-pipe, but soft anddelicate. "I been checkin' out those muscles since I got in here. Wondering how they would feel around me."