Jennie and the Handyman

That image broke up her lecture altogether.

"Floozy on a runway!" she repeated and began to laugh and laughed until there were tears trickling down her face. She had to sit down after a bit, she was that weak from laughing.

It was almost as if a mood was on her at that point. She kept up kind of jabbing at herself with the same kinds of words:

"We showed him!" she said, and giggled harder.

"Almost knocked him off the damn ladder!" she said next and fairly choked with laughter.

"Jennie Allen, get a hold of yourself," she said harshly but the demand faded into giggles almost as soon as she'd made it.

"How about that for ingenuity," she crowed next, "There I was flashing a peeping tom on a ladder at my bedroom window."

"Jennie, stop it or you're gonna pee yourself," she said next and went to the kitchen to engage in some kind of chore to settle herself down.

After a bit, much calmer now, she reflected that indeed she'd not had this much fun for many and many a day-month-year!

"And I know you don't mind, Andy Old Man," she said softly. "Johnnie and I were just funning with each other."

"Yeah," came a voice from deep within her, "When you were parading in front of him in your undies!" That set her off laughing again.

Then the waggish voice continued: "And what did you do, as soon as you saw him? You dropped your only cover, the tee shirt, on the damn floor and put your hand to your mouth."

She was laughing by the end of the thought. "What was I thinking?" she reflected.

"That's easy," came the taunting voice: "Well, here's Jennie!"

She had laughing fits again at that and decided to go out to fetch something for dinner, just to get her mind off of it.

Jennie had long ago discovered that she could actually be good company for herself, when she allowed these kinds of personal dialogues to go on, sometimes in her head only and sometimes, like now partially out loud.

But she was left, as she was driving out to fetch some kind of fast food dinner, with the nagging question, the one that all the foolishness had allowed her to avoid:

"How do you feel about what happened? Your accidentally showing yourself to him almost naked?"

The posed question hung there in mid air. She had actually asked herself the question, in order to make it more real, more of a demand. She allowed the silence to stretch on a bit and finally said softly, to the evening, to any spirits listening, and, more than half intentionally to the spirit of her Andy:

"I liked it! That's frightening but I liked it."

After a brief pause, she asked: "Andy, what am I to do."

And she had the feeling right away that for now there was nothing to do. She set the thoughts aside for the moment and simply went on with her errand of getting something to eat.

She opened a bottle of merlot with her fast food bonanza, to make it seem a little more ritzy.

That entire evening Jennie was in an introspective mood. This was not unusual for her, only this time it was not brooding on the loss of Andy. This introspection was a kind of frightening brood on her whole day with Johnnie Stewart around.

She didn't like the way that her thoughts were going, so she shut them off, shut them down and watched a favorite movie on the tv for entertainment.

It worked for her. She got absorbed in the movie and thought no more about the day's little mishap. At least she didn't think of it any more until it was almost time for her to go to bed.

That night in the dark, in bed she did something that was unusual for her. She was in a mellow mood, and in the dark, giving it little forethought, she let her fingers creep across her stomach and to the waist band of her panties.

She hadn't worn a nightgown to bed, only the panties. She so rarely did this, allowed herself this kind of treat, that she was panting about it, almost from the very start.

The fingers of the invading hand crept down inside the waist band of her panties and across the plane of her stomach. They came to rest, she stopped them for a few seconds, just at the edge of her pubic hair. But she realized quickly that the stopping wasn't to halt the operation at all but only to let the anticipation build.

Then the fingers moved slowly lower and finally they were entwined in the curls of her pubic hair.

"Ohhhhhhhh!" she said and then she stopped for a long moment and gave utterance to the thought that was dominating her mind just then:

"He said 'gorgeous'; it's what he said!"

With those words, she worked her clever fingers into the wetness of her own pussy, past the pubic hair, past the lips, which seemed to be a bit swollen with the lust that had settled so heavily on Jennie right then. The fingers were exploring the inner crease of her vaginal lips, and Jennie had her head sunk into the pillow, her eyes closed and her head moving slowly from side to side making excited, soft noises.

She pushed another finger in to join the first one, and it create more of a fullness.

"Oh this is what I need, this fullness, is what I need, need, need!" she moaned to herself, and with one finger sought and found the button of her clitoris and began to stimulate it.

It had been indeed a long time, since Jennie had allowed herself such a lovely sexual outlet as this, and she was sinking deep into the enjoyment of it, her hands doing the work of a phantom lover, and doing it well.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she moaned to the night, to the shadows, to the dark and to the silent contents of her own now somewhat conflicted heart.

I felt nice but really it felt much more than just nice. It was almost like her spirit being tugged in a new direction, and the shades of the past seemed to be urging her in that new direction also. She fought those thoughts and simply concentrated on the educated fingers that were plundering her pussy and doing it so very well.

Then she knew what was coming and grabbed the pillow with her free hand, wrenching the hand from playing with her nipple and put the pillow over her face and simply bellowing her orgasm's force, simply hollered!

She calmed down then and said a long, heart felt:

"Whewwwwwwwwwwwwww!"

She lay her head back and said quietly: "I must do that more often!"

She thought about it, a smile wreathing her features and said as softly:

"Yep, more often!"

The little voice that was part of her inner dialogue so often spoke up then:

"Time to live Jennie!"

"Yes," was her simple reply, for she knew the truth of what had been expressed.

"And he'd want it, Jennie!" came next.

This also got the simple reply: "Yes," and fewer tears accompanied that realization than she might have thought, pushing her in the direction of thinking that maybe, after all it was time.

Then she had a notion. It was, she thought at first, a silly notion but the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to follow it out.

So, she was out of bed and at her closet in a few seconds, actually pleased to be padding around in the bedroom, even in the dark wearing, again, only panties. Without thinking, she cast a glance at the window half expecting or hoping for his face but of course it wasn't there.

She went on with her task. Pulling the curtains closed, she wasn't ready to expose herself to the world just yet, she put on the light. Then she went downstairs, after thinking for a moment, and came back soon bearing a glass of merlot for herself.

Then it was into the closet, get the box from the back of the closet and set it on the bed. She opened the lid and there it was. There was her finery! All her sexy underwear. She was almost overwhelmed by the variety of fabrics and colors, shapes and kinds of garments.

She giggled.

She sat on the bed then and thought a bit about the two things that she'd done. She loved the masturbation and how powerful it had been for her, and she was silly pleased with the possibility of wearing the sexy panties and sets again.

It even made her light headed. She finished her wine and lay down in bed, drifting off with lovely, sensuous thoughts.

She made sure the next day that she didn't get caught in the same way. She took her shower early, and was dressed immediately afterwards. She went to the kitchen and backed cinnamon rolls to have something for Johnnie, when he came to work on the house.

She was smiling, as he drove up. As he got out of the truck with a sporty:

"Hi, Jennie!"

She greeted him: "Johnnie, good morning; I have a surprise for you!"

"Good," he said, with a wide grin on his face, "Which window shall I put the ladder up to?"

She squealed in positive delight, covering her mouth again with her hand.

"You are such a pleasure to tease!" he said. "I'm sorry, Jennie, what's the surprise?"

"Well, it's not what you were thinking it would be, you devil!"

He grinned at her.

"I have home made cinnamon rolls for us this morning!" she said proudly.

"Then good for us, almost as good as the bedroom follies, as viewed from a ladder outside of the window! The classic stance of the ever seeking peeping tom."

She was giggling wildly at what he was saying.

"Stop it now, or you'll have me peeing myself!" she said tears from the laughter floating down her cheeks.

"Gee that's almost enough incentive to keep on until it happens," he said then.

"Johnnie Stewart!" she said sharply, through her laughter.

"I was wondering how long it would take you today for the first 'Johnnie Stewart'," he said, "Not bad either, within the first 10 minutes."

"Heathen!" she said.

"I am not," he replied, "I'm a Methodist."'

Once again he had her laughing and met her for a morning hug, which seemed to be the most natural thing to do for both of them.

"Come on into the kitchen," she said.

"I love this old house," he said, as he sat at the table, watching her getting things ready for the two of them.

"It was Andy's pride," she said.

"I know," he said softly, "That makes it extra special to you, I realize."

She looked at him and said simply and earnestly:

"Yes, Johnnie, it does; he was a special man. He was . . .he was my man!"

"It must be a terrible feeling," he said to her then.

She looked at him and said: "Thank you; it is, has been, and, I'm relieved to say, is kind of fading to a point where it can rest and not cloud my nights and days quite so much."

"Relief?" he asked.

"Definitely," she said, "Relief. But there'll always be a spot in my heart for my Andy."

"Wonderful woman!" he said simply, "Strong loves, intensely felt, always held onto."

He stopped then and said to her: "Sorry, I'm embarrassing you."

"Well, Johnnie," she said, "Surprising me, surely, but maybe not embarrassing me. I'm trying to kind of forge a new me."

"New you?" he asked, hastening to get away from the statement that he'd made, which was certainly heart felt, but, he was afraid, was exposing too much of himself.

"Yes, getting away from the mope, from the whole idea of burying myself in a middle age that maybe I shouldn't be ready for yet. I don't know. The ideas are only forming themselves right now but that's the way it feels, anyhow."

"A difficult but probably rewarding task," he said.

"Yes," she answered, "I suppose you'd know; I suspect that Marine training was like that for you."

He thought and said: "Yes, yes it was, and it too made a kind of an impression that isn't gone, won't be gone and will always be a part of me. I'm not trying to belittle your love for Dr. Andy by making a flip comparisons, it just feels like it's the same thing."

"I know that you're not being flip, Johnnie; I appreciate the sensitivity that you're giving me about the part of me where my Andy still can be found. It's a rare gift that you're giving."

He'd finished a cup of coffee and two cinnamon rolls and said to her:

"Hey, thanks for this, Mrs A, . . .Jennie, sorry! I guess I'd better get to work before our discussion takes both of us into territory more morose than we want on so bright and sunny a morning."

"Johnnie Stewart," she said, reaching out to stroke his cheek, "You're a very caring man!"

"Thank you for noticing," he said and was off to work.

He told her of his plan for the day. It was his intention that day to scrape the rest of the windows, and then paint.

Jennie got a pixyish look on her face and promised to keep her clothes on, at least whenever she was in a room where he was ogling at the window.

"Ogling!" he almost shouted, "Ogling the lady says! I was doing work that I agreed to do; minding my own business and she prances into the room tits bouncing, and wearing panties that couldn't hide anything even if she wanted to hide it!"

Jennie squeaked, when he got to the part of his oration about 'tits'. It brought a huge grin to his face.

"It makes it worth it for me to engage in verbal battles with you just to see you turn red and make those, sexy noises!" he said, and held his hands up in the air, as she turned and was about to storm at him.

"I'm going, I'm going, I'm going! To work, just to work! Don't throw anything!"

"You devil!" she said to his retreating back, while both of them broke into laughter.

She sat down then to another cup of coffee, knowing that she would have to think this through a bit. It was certainly heady. She had no illusions about his intentions; he was being a brat to get a rise out of her, and it was working, she realized, much to her delight.

But then too there had been some interchanges that were among the most sensitive that were possible. It was these that she turned over in her mind, to look at, to feel and to try to figure out a bit. She wasn't sure that she was actually surprised because he'd always seemed to her to be sensitive. But some of what he had to say to her made a real impression. It gave her food for thought.

She moved to clean up and begin to plan some lunch, when the other thing that he'd said hit her. It was his big jest but it gave her a sense of heat that she was not used to feeling. She remembered what he said about her panties not hiding anything, even if she wanted to. The thought struck her and she was determined to see the truth of it. She certainly hadn't noticed but he obviously had.

She went to the bedroom, making sure that he was not working on one of those windows. Then she went into the bathroom and took her clothes off. She knew that she wanted this to look exactly like it looked then. She took her panties off, a pair of beige 'grannies' today, and put on the ones from yesterday, that she fished out of the hamper. She stood then in front of the mirror and gasped.

"He was right!" she said, eyes wide and staring.

The panties hid nothing. She turned around, as she knew she had inadvertently in the bedroom and checked it out.

"There they were," she thought, "On public display, at least public display if you're Johnnie Stewart and are right outside the window."

For she could readily see her pubic hair and, when turned around, her crack. Then Jennie surprised herself almost totally. She wasn't embarrassed; she wasn't abashed; she wasn't dismayed. Jennie Allen looked at herself, remembered that this is what he saw, and said he saw, with a quick hand movement, she flicked a nipple, which made her squeak, and she positively sat down on the lid of the toilet and giggled.

She hustled back into her clothes, and went to the kitchen. There was now a kind of perpetual smile plastered on her face, since she realized the truth of the matter: namely, that she really and truly had flashed Johnnie Stewart.

"Of course it was inadvertent," she reasoned with herself.

"But it sure as heck must have been impressive!" was her next idea.

Then she heard him clattering about and went on with the lunch that she was preparing. She went outside to call him to lunch, and found him around the other side of the house on the ladder working. He didn't notice her at first. He'd taken his shirt off because it was getting warm, and she noticed, at his waist, riding a little bit above the belt of his shorts, was an edge of what looked like royal purple nylon.

"That's his underwear!" she said to herself, rooted to the spot, as she stared and wondered to herself what kind of garment it cold be.

"Uh, Johnnie," she said, and he turned to look at her.

Then it was worse because he had a row of dark hair that began at his navel and disappeared into the royal purple band and into his shorts. Jennie blushed a deep scarlet.

If he noticed, he was being nice enough not to mention it. But it certainly made an impression on her. She pushed it to the back of her mind for later on.

He came soon afterwards, smiling at her. She realized that she could hardly look at him, now that she knew the way that she had actually looked from his window vantage point.

She also knew that she had to say something.

"What's wrong?" he asked her. "You're upset."

"Uh, yes," she said slowly, trying to think her way through this. "I, uh, have an apology to make, kind of ."

"An apology 'kind of'?" he asked, not understanding.

She heaved a huge sigh and said: "I thought of what you said, you know, about the 'ogling' thing."

"Yes," he said, determined now not to give her any help but to let her struggle through whatever this was by herself.

"Well, I, uh, went upstairs and, uh, dressed again in what I had on then, you see," she said.

"No, I didn't this time, too bad," he said with a smirk.

"Johnnie!" she said with some exasperation, and he realized that she was serious about this and stopped fooling with her.

"Go on," he said, also serious now.

"Well, you were right; when I came out of the bathroom, I was really, I guess, on display, I mean all of me! Not necessarily a pretty sight!" Then she halted, she didn't know how to go on or what to say. There were tears on her cheeks and every one of her instincts was to run away.

He was up and over to her in a second. His arms around her, holding her close.

"Don't you say that; don't you think that. Accident, yes! I know that; you know that but gorgeous sight nevertheless. Siren! Beauty! Amazing."

"Oh, Johnnie," she said in a distressed voice, "I don't know why I'm carrying on this way about such a silly incident."

"Because neither of us think that it was silly nor that its result was silly! That's why!" he said.

"Do you think so?" she said weakly but smiling now, and inwardly pleased by what he'd said, with those words clattering around inside of her head:

"Beauty! Siren!"

"Johnnie," she said then, "Lunch is ready."

"Jennie, you're the best!" was his comment, and he kissed her cheek, and for the briefest moment, she was tempted to turn her head and force him to kiss her properly. She stopped herself only at the last possible moment.

"Sit, I'll get it all ready for you, and thank you; you're such a caring man!" she said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Lunch was quiet and pleasant, once she'd gotten her 'fixation of the day', as she called it now, out and expressed. He went back to work and she set about cleaning up and had a few projects for the afternoon.

It was mid afternoon, while she was doing some reading, trying to keep her mind off of the subject of Johnnie Stewart that, she was afraid, she was beginning to obsess about.

"He must think that I'm a middle aged dingbat with all these histrionics!" she said to herself with some severity, beginning one of her periodic self lectures.

But she was interrupted by Johnnie knocking on the door. She went to see what it was that he wanted, and let him in.

"Johnnie," she said, genuinely pleased, she realized, to see him. "Iced tea? Are you done for today?"

"Yes, to the iced tea, thank you," he said, "And 'maybe' to the done for the day," he went on.

She realized then that he was nervous about something, and she plunged right ahead about it: