5 Weeks With Daisy

The idea for this story was requested by an older member and is dedicated to all the old strokers. The story doesn't last very long, but then neither do most men over sixty-five.

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It happened quite by accident. I was at one of the supposed home repair centers, you know the ones, they have an assortment of items generally used by the DIY people but not much else. My quest was to find a specific router bit that I didn't want to wait several days for delivery, I needed it that day. Thankfully they had what I needed, I could have gotten it three bucks cheaper on-line, but it would have taken too long to arrive. Two or three days I didn't have the luxury of waiting.

As I was going through the assortment of bits, from the corner of my eye I noticed an older lady looking at a few pieces of equipment again and again. It seemed she was unsettled as to which she should purchase. She was a little shorter than me, I assumed around five foot seven, I'm five foot nine so it was easy to do a comparison. When I turned to leave she seemed completely perplexed, standing next to her she looked my way. She was mid-sixties at least, not fat but no longer trim and without spot or blemish. Her hair was dyed a soft brown, her makeup had been applied sparingly, enough to highlight without being gawdy.

When she looked at me I asked one simple question. "What is it you're planning to cut with a power miter saw?"

"Mostly trim, I bought a house outright that needs some work, nothing having to do with the foundation or mechanicals, it's all cosmetic."

"Do you need a compound miter, or will a straight cut be sufficient?"

"Oh. Good question. Compound, I think. I want to install some crown moldings and the video says I need a compound."

I chuckled as I smiled, "The video was correct. But unless you're cutting anything wider than eight inches you don't need a sliding miter. Even on a cheap model that's another hundred bucks and you'll never get your monies worth."

As she turned to move further down the aisle toward the standard compound miter saws I watched her heavy breasts moved beneath the blouse. They weren't tightly fettered to her body like a thick bra would do, she was wearing what my late wife used to. It was a simple cotton bra with soft cups that moved when she did. Walking with her back to me I did what most red blooded men would, I glanced at her butt and then up her torso. She still had a nice figure though she had lumps and bumps here or there, just as I did. Don't we all when we age? She was wearing a light cotton skirt to go along with the cotton blouse, very summer like.

I followed, when she stopped she pointed at the standard saw and I nodded. Looking at the saw, then at me she asked.

"Do you know anything about air guns, I think they're called nailers?"

"I do. Do you have an air compressor to operate a pneumatic brad nailer?" She shook her head. "Then I would suggest a cordless one, they're a little more expensive but you don't have to mess with the noise and bulkiness of an air compressor. Follow me, I'll show what they have."

We looked at cordless brad nailers, cordless drills and corded orbital sanders. We'd been shuffling around the store a good twenty minutes when I asked if her questions had been answered.

She nodded but I could see confusion in her eyes. "It's more money than I planned to spend, but I don't have much choice."

I began to answer, "You know, I might have a better idea. By the way, what is your name?"

She flushed a bit, "It's one of those names you never hear anymore. Daisy. And yours?"

I laughed, "Geez, we could be on an old western, I'm like you, a name you never hear anymore. Chester, most people call me Chet, but I answer to both. I was going to say, I'm sure you can find this stuff online for less, and they'll ship it to your door. Maybe you can save enough to get all you need right away. Do you have internet?"

"Oh my yes. In fact they just put it in the house this past week. My daughter is stationed in Korea, we talk every other week. I've been using the internet at the motel up to this point. I don't know how to do it, but she sends an email with a time that she's going to video chat with me. What do you have in mind Chet?"

I smiled at her, "Please don't think I'm trying to be fresh or a masher, but I could follow you home and help you find these things."

She laughed, "Masher. Now there's a terminology no one under the age of sixty uses. No, I don't think you're a masher, and if you'll let me make you lunch, I'll accept your help."

*** Daisies thoughts as she drives home ***

Hmm, he's not bad looking for an older guy. Seems to have his own teeth and most of his hair. I'll bet that soft beard tickles when it touches a girl's sensitive skin. He has to be at least two inches taller than me. I like the fact that he's wearing a belt instead of suspenders with a beer belly hanging over his pants. He seems nice enough, he didn't hint or toss around sexual inuendo's like the pervs at the community center do. Those guys are disgusting, I doubt that many of them can even get it up any longer, and if they did would it last.

I get the feeling he may still be frisky in the right setting, unlike those other knobs who are like a dog chasing a car, what will they do with it if they catch it. I like his confidence as well as his knowing what I needed to complete this project. It's been four years since Gerald cashed in his chips, four years without any intimacy whatsoever, maybe that can change. Maybe there's more than one project he can complete, and if he isn't on the magic pills, it might be spontaneous. Now that's something that hasn't happened in ages.

Slow down girl, you're getting way ahead of yourself. He's been invited to help you order tools and have lunch. Besides, you don't know if he's single, there's no ring on his finger but then not all men wear a wedding band if they're working. You're almost home, get your stuff together Daisy.

*** Back to the story from Chester's point of view ***

I was lost in thought as she turned onto Fuller Drive, I knew it well, I grew up at the end of the street. Watching her pull into a driveway I smiled, she'd bought the old Montgomery place, I hadn't seen them since I went off to join the Navy oh so many years ago. I'd enlisted when I was 18 expecting to go to Nam, in a way I did, we sat offshore and pounded positions held by the cong with our five-inch guns every night. Like so many other Vietnam vets I retreated into myself when I got home, trying to make sense of it all, and failed.

Walking up the sidewalk behind Daisy I glanced around noticing that yard work had been carried out giving the place a nicer curbside appeal than I could ever remember when the Montgomerie's lived there. In the driveway was a four-yard dumpster half full, judging by the scrape marks on the concrete it had been filled more than once. Inside the door I looked around at all the changes that had been made since the last time I'd been in it over forty years ago. Not just paint and new carpet, walls had been removed providing an open concept, the kitchen had been completely remodeled.

The huge energy inefficient bay windows on the back wall had been replaced with smaller, higher efficiency units. As I looked around I could see all of the windows and doors had been replaced. Daisy told me to look around while she, as she put it, 'rustled up some grub'. Everything in the house looked different, fresh, clean, inviting. In what used to be the master bedroom there was now a master suite with an attached bath and a 3' by 5' walk in shower. The house had originally been a four bedroom, it was now a three bedroom, one of those being the master suite with the attached bath and a huge walk-in closet.

I was in the garage looking over the new electrical panel and on-demand water heater when I heard her yell, "Chet, lunch is ready". We enjoyed a grilled cheese sandwich along with chili she'd made the day before. As we finished I leaned back.

With a wave of my hand I asked, "What made you buy this old place? I used to play with their kids, we lived at the end of the street. You've really done a lot to improve it, the last time I drove by it looked dismal at best. Really run down."

"It was my mother's youngest sisters place, my aunt Marsha. She married the oldest Montgomery boy and moved here from Columbus. She died about a dozen years ago, none of her kids wanted the place and have been renting it, but good renters are hard to find, and the kids living two hours away didn't make for a very good landlord. After the last bunch left, they locked the doors."

I was curious, "How long ago was that, and why are you here now?"

"Two years ago, I bought the place eight months ago for a song considering how run down it was. I had money I needed to invest quickly, this seemed like a good investment. One of my sons-in-law talked me into remodeling it to flip, so that's why I'm here."

I was shaking my head as I looked around, "You certainly didn't do all of this work, you had to have had a contractor, why didn't you just hire someone to finish the trim? As it is, this remodel must have cost you a fortune."

She smiled, "Actually, it didn't. The son-in-law who suggested I flip the place is also a contractor who lives about thirty miles away, he was looking for work to keep his guys busy during the cold months. So, I hired him. They've done wonderful work and their regular trim guy was scheduled to start next week, that is until he broke his leg a week ago. Charlie and his crew are on another job and can't leave. I decided what the hell, it's cutting to size and nailing. I can do that."

I laughed, "It's a bit more than a few simple cuts and a nail or two. In your mind I'm sure you can do it, but I'm wondering, would you be open to a little help? I have nothing in my life that's pressing after I finish my latest cabinet, which will be tonight. To be completely honest, I like being around a nice lady close to my age. It gets lonely when you have no one to talk with, as I'm sure you know."

The expression on her face gave no hint as to what she might be thinking, as she stood clearing dishes I started to stand. She put her hand on my shoulder holding me down.

"Sit, I've got this. As to you helping, let's see how the search for tools goes, then I'll let you know."

After forty-five minutes of searching online I needed to ask the question I'd been avoiding.

"Are you planning to do this again, I mean flip a house and do the trim yourself?"

She'd been leaning over my arm looking at the screen with me, when I asked the question she slumped back in the chair and crossed her arms.

"Nope, this is a once and done for me. I went a little overboard on new fixtures and appliances, I'm at the end of my budget and I want to do it in the least expensive way. I was going to have to dip into savings to pay the trim guy, so anything I can do to avoid that will be good."

Spinning away from the computer facing her I had an idea. Her legs were extended, I tapped on the toe of her sandal with the bottom of my foot causing her to look directly at my smiling face.

"I have a proposition for you Daisy."

Before I could go on she stopped me, "I'm not sure I want to be propositioned Chet."

"No, no, not that kind of proposition. I have all the tools you plan to buy, why not let me help you for a few home cooked meals and an evening or two letting me take you to dinner? You can pay for the brads and a new saw blade, the rest would just be for materials. I noticed the master bedroom has a bed, am I safe in assuming you're staying here full time now?"

Without moving from her rather stoic position she grinned, "Yes, I'm here full time, I moved in a week ago. I'll stay until the project is done, after that I'll turn it over to a realtor and go back home. I've got a new granddaughter to help raise. Are you sure you want to do this Chet? No offense, but if you start helping, I'm going to need you to stay and finish the job."

"No offense taken, with you staying overnight I can be here early enough to get a full day's work done. I'm up at five."

She laughed, "Well I'm not up at five, six, but not five. A seven o'clock start would fit me fine if it works for you. I'll have coffee ready and I'll feed you lunch as well."

"Sounds good, now let's start measuring for materials. By the way, when does the floor guy finish, and are you hanging the doors as well? I see the jambs are in."

"What's today, Tuesday? All he has to finish is the living room, he told me he'd be done Thursday morning. The bedrooms and kitchen/dining areas are done. Can't we work in the bedrooms and not be in his way?"

"We can. Is the garage available to set up equipment and do our cutting?" She nodded. "Okay then, let's get this show on the road."

She giggled like a schoolgirl as her face turned a dark pink, "Give me a chance to change out of this skirt, I don't want to be causing your heart rate to increase if I happen to move wrong."

With a smile she was down the hall, emerging in a pair of simple older lady shorts. No camel toe, no ass hugging tightness, no cut at the crotch level jeans, simple comfortable shorts that ended a few inches below her butt. We measured, laughed, exchanged ideas and had the list basically completed around four thirty. Knowing it was late I asked if she'd like to get supper with me. Looking at me she stated.

"Only if I'm buying."

I shook my head, "Not a chance, no lady I take to eat is going to pay. You're making lunches, I'll buy supper."

Waiting for our food I mentioned that she'd used the word sons-in-law and wondered how many she had.

With a smile of contentment she answered, "I have four, and two daughters-in-law. All but two of the kids and their families live out of state. Gerald and I had just celebrated our 45^th anniversary when he died of a heart attack four years ago. And before you ask, I'm 66."

After the meal we sat having coffee as a lot of older folks tend to do, she looked up and said. 'Okay, your turn. What about you?"

"I met the girl of my dreams a few years after getting out of the navy, Katrina and I shared a life together with great joy, we not only loved each other, we liked each other. With great fervor we threw ourselves into our jobs saving for a home and then to start a family. Within three years we had the home, shortly afterward we discovered why she hadn't yet gotten pregnant. She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Leaving out all the long-drawn-out details of watching her die slowly, she departed from my life at the tender age of 28. To say I was heartbroken and angry at life would be an understatement, I've been on my own since."

She held her hand on her chest in one of those 'you have to be kidding' kind of gestures.

"You never found another woman to marry and have a family with?"

I shook my head, "I tried the dating thing a few times in the beginning. My expectations of what a wife should be were probably too high. None of them ever seemed to match what I had with Katrina, that was before I realized there would never be another Katrina. By that time I'd burned all the bridges and they'd married someone else."

Giving me a look of pity and not concern she opened her arms at the elbows, palms up, "Surely you've not been celibate all these years. I mean, you aren't a priest. There had to be somebody to fill in the blanks."

I smiled, "The blanks, nice way to put it. Yeah, I had a girlfriend or two along the way. They didn't want to marry and neither did I, it was mostly for companionship and dare I say, sex. It's been over five years since I had a date or girlfriend, some say I'm getting too old for that stuff."

She chuckled, "What do you say? Are you too old for that 'stuff' as you put it?"

I was caught off guard, "Is this a trick question? If I say no are you suddenly going to be upset and tell me to take a hike because you think I'm some sort of perv?"

"Not a trick question Chet. I would like an honest answer though."

I grinned as I looked down, "No, I'm not too old, I may be out of practice, but I still have what it takes to get the job done."

She touched my arm, "Since we're being serious, can I ask an intimate question?" I nodded. "Do you have to take the little magic pills?"

"Nope, not yet anyway. It takes a minute or two longer to get the engine running than it used to, but once it's up to speed it stays that way until the trip is over."

She was laughing out loud, "Oh my, you're funny. Because of the medications Gerald had to take them for a few years before he died. The spontaneity of sex was gone after that, we had to schedule our time together."

I could relate, "Yeah, my younger brother is only 63 and he has to do the same thing. He says I'm lucky. Maybe I am."

"How old are you Chet? You look to be in good shape."

"I'm 67. Say, it's getting late, I should run you home."

As we approached the house I told her I'd be there by nine the next morning with tools. We could go after that and buy materials. The garage door was open when I arrived the next morning. Following a quick cup of coffee I had the miter stand in the garage and the saw mounted by ten, when I walked in she was bent over tying her shoes. The view down the front of her blouse was a bonus I hadn't expected. Her breasts were large but not grotesque, the byproduct of six kids, what more is there to say. She had on mom jeans with a high waist and sort of baggy.

It was eleven thirty by the time we'd sorted through trim trying to find something that didn't look like a toboggan reject. The crap they call lumber anymore is atrocious. She had coupons for Burger King, not one of my regular places but since it was where she wanted to go I figured I could find something. She wanted the whopper junior, I settled for a chicken sandwich and onion rings. By the time we'd returned, unloaded and got everything set to start the next morning it was late in the day. We were both ready to call it a day, I spent the evening at home reading and watching a series on tv.

When I arrived the next morning it was decided we would start in the master bedroom, she was in the kitchen tidying up as I walked to her room. Inside on the end of the bed was a black lace bra of ultra-soft material and basically shear. I pondered whether to touch it or not, it had been a long while since I'd touched lingerie, just as I was about to pick it up her hand flashed ahead of mine grabbing it.

"You weren't supposed to see that, I forgot it was on the bed. Now that you're done looking at my underwear let's get busy."

I smirked, "Is that all you wear? You mean to tell me a lady your age goes commando?"

She slugged my arm, "Knock it off you bozo. I'll bet you'd love to find out."

We had the doors hung along with the trim around the doors and windows by mid-afternoon. Having skipped lunch we were ready to eat. She ordered a pizza, while we waited we relaxed and rested. The flooring guy finished late Wednesday, the place was completely ours beginning Thursday, we made progress each day but didn't overdo it either. There was time to sit and rest, as well as snack and meal breaks. On Saturday morning I suggested a half day to which she immediately accepted. As I was getting ready to leave I asked about me taking her to supper.

"Let's not do that Chet. How about you get cleaned up and come back for dinner, I have a beef roast if you like that." I nodded. "You do? Perfect, shall we say five thirty? Great, see you then. Oh, and dress casual."

When I stopped at the florist on the way home my intention was simply to be kind and make a nice gesture of how much I enjoyed her company. As the afternoon went on my mind seemed to take another direction. She would be in town a month or so, maybe there was a chance for a short fling, then again, did she even do those things any longer? Only one way to find out, make a pass at her. We finished supper and had the kitchen cleaned when she asked if I'd like a beer or wine.