Handy

Handy

Sophia was handy at many things. Electronics, computers. Plumbing, wiring! Cars and TVs and appliances, every kind.

That's why they keep me around, she thought glumly as she fixed Bobbi's hair dryer for the upm-teenth time. Dropped in the toilet, again, wiring burned and fuse popped.

As she unwound the tiny motor on her bench, measured the wire gauge, counted the coils, she whistled tunelessly.

Honestly, this was where she liked to be, at her bench, some gadget spread out in pieces in front of her, tools all arranged just so.

As Bobbi's cries and moans got to their peak, about to cum from whatever that hunk was doing to her or in her, Sophia fished in a parts drawer for another miniature breaker. This one had been popped half a dozen times, she didn't trust it anymore. They built these things to the minimum tolerances; it was likely only meant to pop once. Why the motor burned this time.

She had one a little smaller, but the same rating. Cut the old one out of the circuit, tested her soldering iron, just right! Dabbed a little solder at exactly the right place in the joint, gauged the heat perfectly, and voila!

Now to repack the tiny motor casing with new coils. Then reassemble and test. It would work; they always worked the first time when Sophia fixed them.

She had just finished up as Bobbi finished up, her usual orgasm-rage-talk clear through the thin walls.

"Fucker! You're gonna cum in me! Bastard! Fucking slut-fucker whoremonger cuntdicker! Do it! Do it! Fill me you fucker! Breed me! Georgi! Georgi! Cum in me! I'm cumming! Eeeeee!"

Oops, that guy the other night had been Georgi. Probably wouldn't matter, men didn't get too fussy when Bobbi got naked and wet.

Bobbi was only five two but nearly that big around, her tits about as big as her head, same size as her hips. Add in jet-black hair, pouty little-girl face, that high-pitched voice that turned to a squeal every time she came, they forgave pretty much anything else she did.

Sophia got up, banged on her door, went in without waiting.

"Got your hair dryer fixed! I'll put it in the bathroom."

She'd wait forever if she wanted any consideration from her roommates. They ignored her for the most part, except to ask for something.

Bobbi made some muffled Fank Goo! sound as she mouthed her gigolo's cock, head-bobbing and slurping to clean him, licking up the side of his cock carefully, getting it all, swallowing his mess noisily.

Well, that was something, a Thank You anyway. She must want something else.

Pulling off with a schmuck! and wiping her mouth with the back of one hand, Bobbi hopped up, boobs bobbing wildly, fished around in the blankets, pulled out a nine-inch purple wand!

"Soph luv, it doesn't, you know, buzz! It just hums, won't get going, won't adjust! Thanks doll!" and she thrust it into Sophia's hands.

Whatever the whoremonger cuntdicker guy thought of all this, he didn't show any concern. Still red across his face, shoulders, eyes closed, his dick at half-mast, wet, content. Bobbi gave good service, whatever you might say about her pushy personality!

Like now, she just assumed Sophia had nothing better to do than fix her sex toy! Typical.

Well, to be honest, she didn't. And this was the new ThrillSeeker model, she hadn't opened one up before. Gonna be interesting!

...

Lunchtime found all the housemates in the kitchen, foraging. A rare event.

Sophia had left the ThrillSeeker in pieces, the little counterweight that swung on a cam and made it buzz! It was loose, needed a pin, didn't have the right size. Planning a visit to the hardware store after lunch.

Bobbi claimed to not be really hungry, just had cum for lunch! The others laughed politely. They all knew Bobbi was a cum-slut.

She poured a bowl of sugar-pebbles and emptied half the milk bottle into her bowl, began chowing down.

With her Hispanic figure, jet-black hair, figure wobbling wherever she went, she was a sight to behold. She had the bedroom downstairs, the basement really except the house was on a hill, it had a separate entrance to the back yard.

Sophia's shop was downstairs too. Really just an airless storeroom, no windows. Suited her.

Megan was building a sandwich, had covered half the counter with packages from the fridge. With rust-red hair, her true color, same as her bush and under her arm, she never shaved.

Finished her enormous ham and cheese off with mustard, pickles, three kinds of cheese, capers, mayo. Gotta try that, it looked good, be nice to have a bite but Megan would never share. She didn't share her master bedroom suite on the main level, the lease was in her name, she called all the shots, claimed all the perks for herself.

Then there was Trish. A willowy blond, she did some modeling, bra commercials, panty ads, condom ads. Usually late with her rent, spent it all on makeup and clothes, that car. Today eating some leftovers from a photoshoot, wild salmon over basmati rice, little buns with caviar, some prosecco.

Her waterbed nearly filled her bedroom, normally a guest room, a corner room overlooking the back yard, the side yard.

The neighbor's house had a clear view from upstairs. Mr. Woolbrush could often be seen admiring Trish as she lounged naked on her bed or entertaining some producer which meant screwing them until they passed out.

And Sophia, poor Sophia, plain brown hair, no makeup ever, not even blush. Skin a little mottled, some Portwine stain she'd had as an infant, imperfectly treated. Left her looking like a map of Venus.

Waist a little too large; boobs a little too small. Perky though, with puffy nipples sticking out nearly two inches, though nobody knew, nobody ever got to see them.

And a clit like a little cock! An inch or more all told. Complete with a fat head, like a cockhead but tiny. Felt like a freak, the other girls all had little nubs or pink pearls, not like hers at all, not like a miniature boy! She saw them often enough, they never used a bathrobe, walked around the house stark naked from the bath.

Sophia dressed in loose cotton work shirts, deliberately a size too large to disguise her figure. Wore baggy jean or even overalls. Sandals with wool socks. Her feet got cold in her room in the basement, sharing space with the water heater.

And those glasses! Thick black rims, the girls joked she got them from Svens House of Soviet Eyewear.

It wasn't true, they were just being mean. She got them mail-order from a place in India, a fraction of the price the local optometrist would charge. She just measured her prescription with her jury-rigged phoropter, you didn't need one of those enormous steel arrangement they used in the doctors' offices.

Sophia had a box of lenses, an old Victorian prescription set, got it at a yard sale, used for half a century by doctors everywhere, perfectly good. Made a binocular mount, just tried lenses in each eye until it looked good enough.

Sophia ate her wholegrain wheat bread and hummus sandwich, delicious but the other girls sniffed at it, called it her 'health pellet'. She retreated downstairs, ate alone at her bench.

The doorbell started ringing, folks started arriving. A party? Typical; they'd said nothing to her. Probably not welcome; certainly not invited.

It got noisy, laughing and talking, then doors slamming. Bobbi came downstairs, sounded like two sets of feet on the stairs, into her room and Slam.

Then it got quiet, real quiet.

Then it got loud again, this time yelling and squealing, some moaning.

They were screwing! All her roommates, all with boyfriends over, for sex. Maybe an orgy? Was it technically an orgy if they fucked in separate bedrooms?

Strike that; Megan was screwing two guys by the sound of it. Or a guy and a gal? Both voices pretty low, but some women had voices like that.

Bobbi's guy was pretty silent, just some mumbling then her headboard started thumping, right behind the wall to her lab, rattling her parts cabinet so the little drawers started to slide out.

She blushed, her breathing got heavy, she started salivating. Normal erotic stimulation response.

Nothing to do for it, but give in. She shucked out of her overalls, slid her cotton panties down to her knees, sat back down on her bench stool, cold against her naked butt.

Taking up her portable jigsaw, she dropped the blade out. Plugged it in, turned it on slow, carefully pressed the foot plate to her clit.

The reciprocal motor buzzed her junk better than those dildo wands ever could! Just touching, letting off, touching again, her breathing getting deeper, her tongue between her lips, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

Building, building, it was getting good. The voices around the house were intermittent, calls of encouragement, instructions to suck this or kiss that.

Almost there, almost...

The lab door banged open; Sophia dropped the jigsaw. It bounced off her stool footrest, slid under her bench, buzzing under there, loud in the small space.

"Sophia! You have my vibrator fixed yet?"

Bobbi was staring, wanting an answer, but clearly amazed at what she was seeing.

"Go away!"

Her face split in a huge smile, gleeful. She turned away, went out, leaving her lab door open, leaving Sophia sitting naked from belly to knee, wet smears on her gaping crotch, red-faced, clit hard and projecting like a little thumb.

"Hey Jimbo! Guess what Sophia was doing! You're not gonna believe it!"

She slammed back into her room, talked animatedly to somebody in there, Sophia couldn't make out a word, but the rude laughing was clue enough.

Haw Haw Haw! Then some more urgent talking, something about '...her clit' then peals of laughter from Bobbi!

She jerked up her white cotton panties, struggled into her overalls, buttoned back up. Jerked the power cord out, stilling the loud buzzing under the bench.

Ran up the stairs, grabbed her jacket, threw the front door open. Behind her the house was filled with yelling, screaming, crying, passionate pleading. Building to a crescendo, wild voices in orgasm, screaming out their passion, her roommates having the time of their lives.

Sophia stomped down the sidewalk, left the front door wide open, not caring, not sure she was gonna come back.

Mad! Those whores fucked their brains out with random strangers, yelled out their lust to the whole house, came to breakfast with every kind of man in tow, red-faced, makeup smeared, cum dripping from their chins, staining their bras if they even wore a bra.

But Sophia jills in her lab and it's hilarious? Something to mock her for? Like she's the slut, and they're some kind of paragons of virtue?

She fumed, walked, made some turns, walked some more, fumed some more. Burning off her mad.

Looked up after a time, not sure where she even was, must be half a mile from home, easy.

There was a guy just standing in his yard, hands in pockets, looking at the day, nothing to do. She could ask him for directions.

"Excuse me?"

He startled, saw her, took his hands out of his pockets.

"Ma'am?" Polite, a nice start. Not ridiculing her body, her needs anyway.

"Hey, I'm a little lost, you know which way to Mission Court?"

He didn't answer, just looking at her, mind not engaged.

"Dude, you don't know, just say so." She had no time for fools, not today.

Awakened with a start, still looking at her but seeing her now.

"I, yeah, I know the way. Off of Central, right? Then down the park road, to the north?"

She nodded.

"About six blocks west, turn at the corner with Winston. You can't miss it."

That made sense, she knew Winston.

"Uh, thanks. Sorry to be so short."

He nodded; saw she was having a bad day. Familiar with bad days.

"No problem. I've been there. Take long walks myself. Pretty much all I do. That's why I know all the streets around here."

She recognized a kindred spirit.

"So, thanks. I'll be going."

But she didn't go. She looked to the west, looked back.

Nothing back there but more humiliation, more 'jokes' about her needs, her body. Her brains, an egghead, a nerd.

They stood in silence, longer than would normally be comfortable. Neither of them felt the need to say anything.

That was nice. Her housemates were full of small talk, always saying stupid empty things, never waiting for an answer. Talking about themselves, nonstop.

He finally felt the need to admit something.

"I'm just out here to get away from my sisters."

She absorbed that. Occurred to her to reciprocate.

"I'm out here because of my roommates."

They shared a companionable silence, just two ordinary people with shitty living arrangements.

"Mine are entertaining boyfriends. Hell, fucking random guys, they're a bunch of sluts, whores. Selling themselves for cars, for money, for parts. Every night a different guy."

His eyebrows raised, he nodded.

"My sisters are in there, getting pounded by some guys from work. Stinking up the place, always smells like estrogen and peroxide. A health hazard!"

She smiled, snorted, subsided.

"Seventeen kinds of fake hair product left open on the bathroom counter."

He lit up. "Like placenta does anything for hair, right?"

"And I gotta clean it all up. They never will. I left an open container of milk on the counter for two weeks, an experiment. They never touched it. All they had to do, dump it, put the carton in the trash. Two weeks!"

"I put anything away, I get complaints - where did you put my shit? Why are you always messing with my stuff! Don't fuck with my stuff!"

They were really connecting, now.

"So, you a chemist?"

He reared his head back, looked at her with new respect.

"How on earth did you guess that?"

She smiled. "Anybody else would have said, smells like pussy. You said, estrogen. So, a chemist."

He looked really pleased, now.

"And you're a... mathematician?" He was guessing.

She smiled, was gonna slam him, tell him he was wrong but something in her said, why not be nice?

"I know a little. Electronics are more my thing. I design circuit board layouts, freelance."

Silence again, as they digested this new information.

"Hey, there's a coffee shop, on Central, on your way? Wanna, I don't know, get some coffee? Talk?"

She was gonna say no, not used to social situations, not really comfortable with the whole 'dating' thing.

But something about him was different. If she ordered something strange, she didn't think he'd ride her about it. He'd be polite, curious. Glad to learn!

And probably wouldn't talk her ear off.

She nodded OK! Waited for him to come out his gate, join her. They started walking.

One block in she said, "Sophia."

He was quick. "Michael."

Nothing more was said until they got into the shop.

"Hey, my treat? I invited you."

Sophia was going to shut him down, not that kind of girl, taking gifts from strange men, becoming obligated.

But hell, why not? She didn't have to fuck him because he bought her coffee.

"Thanks! My treat, next time."

She ordered first - cold matcha latte. He looked on in wonderment.

"You too? I never knew anybody else that drank that. My sisters, it's all some double-double frap blend or some shit."

She had to laugh. "No way you drink matcha! 'Oooh, it tastes like grass! You must be a cow!'"

He laughed too, ordered his, but a large for him. Gave his name, Mike.

They sat, waiting to be called by the barista.

"What got you going today? Me, it was the orgy going on in the family room. They had these guys over, had porn on, really gross stuff, started in kissing and groping. I had to get out of there."

What should she say? The truth, why not.

"They had a party, didn't invite me. So I'm in my lab, listening to their banging and cock-sucking, thinking why not? I got my vibrator out," and she didn't say 'my black and decker reciprocal hand saw', "and one of them barged in, wanted her dildo back. She only gave it to me an hour ago, needs a bushing and pin."

"They make you fix all their shit?" He was incredulous.

"Everything! Dildos, electric toothbrush, remote, vibrators! Video game controllers, always got gunk in the switches. Massage pads, but you know they isn't any massaging going on, it's always completely gross and smells..."

"Like estrogen!" They laughed together, easily, maybe friends already.

"What do they make you do? As a chemist?" She was honestly curious.

"Laundry! All their stankiest spunk-soaked underwear, bras! Shirts with fructose and protein stains, they always say mustard but you know.."

"It's cum! From sucking cocks, that stuff gets everywhere, they never even bother to try and be tidy. Just let it fly!"

He nodded. "I use laundry enzymes, mild acid and base solutions, depending. Then, very dilute detergent, lifts the freed proteins. A gentle rinse, pH neutral, and voila!"

He seemed to be actually pretty ok with the laundry thing; right up his alley, being a Chemist.

"All handwork?"

"You know it! Silk and lace, it'd be ruined in a regular washer. And they deliberately smear cum all over, like it's some kind of turn-on."

Sophia wasn't certain it wouldn't be a turn-on but kept her peace.

They chatted on, about stains in furniture and carpet. About vacuum cleaners jammed with slimy condoms. How to get tampons out of a toilet, no matter how many times you said Throw it in the trash! they tried to flush them.

The worst? Pussy-juice on the walls, the woodwork, all that glucose squirted everywhere. Like spilled soda, you had to rinse again and again!

They went quiet, their matcha long gone, the sun getting low. The coffee shop customers had turned over like three times while they were talking.

"You know what we are? You and me?" He was asking, impishly, as impish as a fairly hairy guy with twenty pounds extra on him could get.

"Friends?" She said it, astonished at herself at being so bold.

He smiled. "Soul mates! Two people with lives in alignment. A perfect meeting, like it was meant for us to find each other."

She looked at him, quizzically. Was he really one of those people, who believed in mystical shit?

He laughed out loud. "I know! Not a thing. As if everybody has one person in the world who they're meant to be with. Somehow, they always find them in the same neighborhood, just around the corner! They're not in Bangladesh or Saigon. Astronomically unlikely. But hear me out.

"Any statistical event, no matter how unlikely, given a big enough sample size, becomes..."

"Inevitable!" They said it together, amazed, uncertain.

"I like you." He said it, plain, honest.

She wondered, what could she say to that? What did she want to say?

"I like you, too."

"Ok. We like one another. We both have shitty living arrangements, I presume you, like me, because you can't afford a place of your own."

That was an understatement. Housing prices, even rentals, were out of her grasp, even with her well-paying gigs. Jobs were just too uncertain, sometimes she'd go weeks without a contract. Can't pay rent that way.

She conceded the point.

"But together? Maybe? I work at the water treatment plant, a Junior Engineer. That means I do all the work, the old farts play cards and chat, get paid the big bucks to boss me around."

"I do design work, piecework, online gigs. Not consistently, sometimes nothing for a week or two then I get slammed."

"See, we average that out, we can come up with a spreadsheet, calculate the likelihood of a cashflow problem given the rent payment?"

She amended. "I have savings, three months. As a hedge. Including that, the curve is shifted over ninety days, nearly, brackets a different part of the bell curve."

They got into it, suggesting distribution models, weights. Decided to repair to his room, his laptop, do some simulations.

The sisters were about where he left them, she saw from the front door coming in, the living room occupied by naked bodies, clothes draped over everything. Sacked out, or drunk and passed out. A porno still droning in the background, the heavy porno-music beat obvious...and it did indeed stink of pussy.