Julia Visits a Construction Site

The hard-hatted man with the neon earbuds farted, completely unaware of Julia standing behind him.

"Until you did that, I was totally gonna fuck you," she stage-whispered in the deadpan delivery her favorite potty-mouthed comediennes used. She composed her very best disgusted face to accompany the line and checked the crossing light.

The man turned around and looked at Julia. The young lady standing in front of him was dressed in business casual leaning toward provocative. Suit jacket, pantyhose and a short dark argyle skirt riding unnaturally high. Thigh gap you could fit a quince through, he thought. He tugged the neon cable of his earbuds and dangled the plug in front of her. It wasn't connected to anything.

"What makes you think your scrawny ass could handle my dick?" he retorted, obviously insulted.

After what seemed like an eternity, her mouth started working again.

"Uh, so ... that wasn't supposed to be heard."

He nodded, "Yeah, I know that."

"So ... I'm going to be walking away now," Julia said in that same impassive comic delivery she favored and about-faced, only to do it again two seconds later and end up right where she started.

"As soon as the light turns, I mean," she nodded at the crossing and looked away.

He stared and repeated himself, "I'm serious, you couldn't handle it."

"OHH really?" Julia enunciated, chuckling at the absurdity. If her eyeroll wasn't enough to convey sarcasm, the head nodding did rest of the job.

"Right, ... now go on and tell me all about your ginormous monster dong."

He shook his head, "I didn't say it was big, I said you couldn't handle it."

Julia scoffed and looked away, ending the conversation.

"What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?"

That pissed her off. Her comment was all a misunderstanding that she didn't want to explain. She hated every minute of this dragging on. Was she expected to bring him up to speed on her sense of humor and how it developed over the years? He didn't have to explain his flatulence.

"You know, I just don't care." She pointed with her purse at the building she walked out of moments ago. "See that place? I just walked in there and got a million dollar contract. And that's all me. So I don't care what you think of this moment because I'm feeling pretty good about myself today to be bothered. And goodbye."

The light turned green and started counting down.

"Yeah? Is that like a big number for you?" he grinned and took his hardhat off to scratch his head. His hair was short but the grain pleasing; for his age it held up firmly, and he wasn't halfway bad looking, she thought and blinked at herself for thinking it.

"Does talking down on strangers make you feel powerful?" he asked after putting the hardhat back on and walked off.

Her jaw dropped from the absurdity of it all. This moment just needed to go away and thankfully it now literally was. But then he turned around in the middle of the intersection and called out after her.

"You wanna see some real power, walk one block ahead and watch."

For a few moments she froze and then realized the crossing light would soon turn, so she sprinted after him best she could, her clicking heels betraying her pace. Once on the other side she watched him walk away, puzzled by his comment. What'd he mean by that? After a time, she followed him since she had to go that way anyway. Past the second intersection he just waited for her, standing by a construction fence.

Once she got closer, he nodded at her and moved into action. He opened a secret door cut in the fence that she walked by many times but never noticed before. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled louder than she thought possible and motioned with his other hand.

"Roll up! Roll up!" he yelled, "on the double!"

As she watched, men streamed out heading in every direction, not too slow and not too fast, carrying backpacks and lunch pails. But cleared out they did. Nearly a dozen of them, maybe more. One of the workers was a lady who winked at her lasciviously and made her blush.

The man pointed a finger at Julia and said, "wait one."

She walked closer to check out the door and realized it wasn't actually as secret as she thought it'd be. It had a handle and everything, she just never noticed it before. This used to be a small park with a big statue but now it was enclosed in a plain beige construction fence, the kind they use to hide ugly things in D.C.

He came back out of a trailer carrying a bulky blueprint and unfolded it with some skill. She had a tough time unfolding newspapers by comparison, she realized and then wondered why they called them blueprints if the paper was white. Some kind of anachronism.

"See this here?" he indicated a detailed oval and then pointed through the gate where some big water thing used to be before they walled the whole place off, Julia recalled. She nodded but honestly it just looked like a bunch of dotted lines, rectangles and numbers and arrows.

"It's just one of four, he continued, "This is the Bartholdi fountain we're working on. It's old. Made by some fancy fucker just after the Civil War ended. Otherwise, it pumps a bunch of water, they tell me. Big deal. And that's seven million bucks by itself."

Suddenly Julia felt churlish having flung numbers at him to justify her own importance. Unenthusiastically, she admitted having completely underestimated the man. Despite his crude behavior he seemed like he was a big deal in his own right. But unlike her, he wasn't shoving it in her face the moment he could just because he didn't like something about her. And to be honest, she sort of snuck up on him when she left the building.

So Julia apologized. In a way.

She tucked her right foot behind her left one at an angle, grabbed the two sides of her short skirt and pretended to lift it up as she dipped down a foot. It was the best curtsy she could manage given the circumstances.

"What, no head bow?" he asked and there was honesty in his smile.

Julia laughed because his smile was infectious. He disarmed her. She nervously adjusted her purse from the dip.

"What do you want, a fake British accent?" she laughed the line out and it too was an honest laugh. Apology accepted. Mood of the day not ruined at all. She adjusted her skirt because it had ridden high on its own.

"Okay, so what was that twirl thing you did with your hand?" Julia asked.

"I sent everyone home."

"You sent everyone home just for me?"

"No, their shift was over anyway. And not everyone was working here. But I did cut it short by a few minutes, for you. Did I look badass telling all those people what to do?"

Julia giggled, "Well, if you hadn't told me that last part, then yes."

"Wanna take a look inside?" he asked her.

"Umm... actually, yeah," she nodded. She'd never been on a construction site before.

Once on the inside, Julia realized just how much work they'd been doing after all. She remembered the dirty greening fountain from either the last year or one before it and now it looked so shiny and clean. It was remarkable how the construction fencing hid the surroundings from within - same as how they hid the messy construction from the outside. She couldn't see the arboretum through it. Come to think of it, the fence wasn't all that plain. Each post was capped and each wood panel had crude wainscoting on it which must have taken time to put together.

He gave her a short tour and explained what they'd been doing. He pointed at unfamiliar equipment and explained it patiently. The names or terms didn't stick. Something about a pulsed laser, a locked box of ceramic goggles they spent a lot of time looking at. She tried one pair on and modeled them for a laugh. Julia realized he was actually charming, in a way, and perhaps her world was smaller than she previously imagined.

When he invited Julia inside the trailer on the account of the cold weather, she didn't think anything of it. Maybe, just maybe, she'd be interested in having a dinner together later. She felt like splurging on some comforts after today's victory.

For a moment he looked very reluctant to take off his hardhat. After he placed it on top of a cabinet, he leaned against a desk and unzipped himself in front of her. Before she could even begin to look astonished he was tugging his flaccid cock in her direction.

She rejected what she saw as unreal. It had to be. But then it wasn't.

"So, dinner's not happening?" she asked in that expressionless sotto voce, startled by the depravity.

This was unbelievable. He went from a jerk to a loudmouth to a leader with some power to ... charmingly attractive ... and then straight to an ass in shorter time than she thought possible. He was missing a trench coat and an alley.

Julia leaned on one foot and mourned the appetizers that would never be. She mumbled, "I mean, like, at least a side of calamari? It didn't have to be expensive."

"C'mon, lets see if you can handle it," he leered at her.

Shocked for that tiny fraction of a second, she recovered fast enough and said goodbye to the idea of dinner with a firm shake of the finger.

"Uh, yeah, so that's so-not happening. Ever."

He stroked his cock some more and it started growing fast. He said he wasn't big, but that wasn't entirely true. It looked thick. He was a tall man after all and she stared in bizarre fascination. Like he was performing for her. In seconds he was nowhere near being flaccid and they were all alone. Her heart skipped a beat unexpectedly.

"So ... I'm going to be walking away now," Julia used that same earlier voice but didn't follow up with an about-face. Something about the morbidity of the moment fascinated her and she watched his cock get harder.

"Well?" he asked.

"Well what?"

"Well, can you handle my dick, or can't you?"

Julia laughed bitterly and bore into him. "You're serious? You just threw away a perfectly good recovery from the intersection. I was about to ask you if you had dinner plans and then you threw it all away."

She then looked back at his cock. It looked painfully swollen, angry veins sticking way out.

"So that's a no?" he needled her as she started turning around.

She stopped herself and with that disbelieving look on her face turned back to face him.

"No, that's a you're a sicko and I don't have to explain myself to you."

"Yeah, thought so. You're all talk. That million dollar thing was all bullshit."

Something snapped inside her.

"Motherfucker, do you have any idea what it took to get to that point? I didn't just walk in there and fuck a CEO to get a million bucks. Do you have any fuckin' idea how long it took me to line this up? Years, and there's more work. Do you have any idea what kind of idiotic questions I had to answer with a straight face? How much paperwork I had to fill out? RFPs? How many lazy administrators I had to chase down? How much shit I had to eat?"

Julia threw her purse on the ground and lurched a few steps forward. She grabbed his cock forcefully, displacing his hand, and gave it a few mean underhanded strokes.

"So yeah, I think I can handle one dick," she tried channeling condescension, but it came off halfheartedly. She was nearly mashing it.

When he said nothing but looked down at her hand, Julia realized she sent her brain out to buy a pack of cigarettes, maybe ten seconds back. She stroked his cock a few more times quietly and paused. Then she took a step forward for a better reach and stroked it some more, this time actually trying to make it pleasurable.

Merrill was beyond shocked. Crazy bitch was supposed to just run out, screaming, and he'd laugh after her like an asshole. But this was such a freaky moment and he could not believe she was touching him.

Today's victory was real for Julia, so very real. But hollow. A culmination of so much work and then a cratering letdown. No one there to congratulate her. No one to appreciate what she'd been through. The long hours. And it wasn't her money, never would be. All she had was pride of earning it for someone else. But then this freaky thing happened and it woke her celebratory yearning. Work hard, play hard, her friend always said and the line became a crude earworm.

She didn't need her brain. It could stay at the imaginary store stuck in long lines only to get carded, she felt. It somehow felt powerful to just reach out and grab a cock, like she deserved the unquestioning right to do that. Like she owned it. She was beautiful, wasn't she? And not like she's never had an anonymous hookup. Once in a blue moon she needed it just for the kind of rare release she wanted. It was oddly a nice surprise not to have to work for it.

Julia grabbed a folding chair from a nearby desk and unfolded it in front of him. He took the opportunity to drop his pants all the way down to his ankles. He wasn't wearing any underwear. She sat down in front of him and unceremoniously stroked him while licking and sucking his balls. There was no hesitancy to it, no moment of looking back. She just jumped in with both feet, tongue lashing at his skin.

She looked up and he was staring at her with a huge grin on his face. Julia thought maybe she didn't want him grinning.

She put her mouth on his cock and started blowing him slowly. After a few seconds of sucking it, she paused to take off her jacket. He did the same with his reflective vest and tried feeling her breasts up, and Julia felt confused because it somehow felt unwelcome. Despite having his cock in her mouth, he simply hadn't earned the right to do that and it felt wrong. It all felt wrong. She wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

She went back resolutely to sucking his cock and after half a minute stood up and kissed him, sticking her tongue deep in his mouth. He kissed her back passionately, somehow surprised by the intimacy, and ran his hands over her hips and legs. He was desperately trying to reach under her skirt. She ducked back down and continued sucking his cock.

Her tongue traced his thick veins playfully and she looked so hot doing it. Seeing it made him moan. Her hands weren't useless either, she was stroking him with practiced skill.

Next time Julia came up he did manage to get his hand between her legs and felt just how wet she was. Her tongue was aggressive, she was an incredible kisser and he felt blind warmth in the moment. Just as he fought past her hosiery and slipped his hand inside her panties, she slipped a sentence in.

"Can you taste your own cock yet, you bastard?"

Merrill couldn't help it. The moment this crazy bitch planted the thought in his head, he thought that he could. And it felt repugnant. He was sure that sort of thing had happened before in his life but he never thought about it, but now it was unmistakable and it felt ... hostile, given the way she phrased it. He got too distracted to try to slip a finger in before she ducked back down and continued sucking his cock. He leaned back and closed his eyes trying to concentrate. She felt so amazing. But then she repeated herself and this time he definitely didn't like the tone of it.

Merrill tried avoiding her kiss, attempting to reach down and kiss her breasts through her shirt but she'd have none of it. She put her knee up on the desk and half-straddled him, stroking and rubbing his cock toward the middle of her skirt and he wanted nothing more in this world but for her to reach further.

So they kissed again and he managed to get a finger inside her. She felt so tight and wet that it made him shudder in anticipation. This time he did taste himself on her mouth and he did not like it. But her pussy was so close to his cock that Merrill let it go. It drove him totally wild to just be so near someone so sexy and wow, the incredible luck of this improbable thing happening. The moment couldn't be wasted. The discomfiture was all in his head, he thought. She squeezed his cock hard with her hand and held it like that.

Then she quickly dipped down and put it in her mouth for a brief second and came back up to kiss him. Her mouth felt sloppy and Merrill felt as if she nearly spit in his mouth so he reflexively backed off to wipe it off with his hand. This time he could taste his own precum and it was repulsive.

"What's a matter, you don't like your cock sucked?" she asked him, acid in her voice and tried to kiss him again.

"Bitch, what the fuck is your problem?" he angrily pushed her away. Merrill couldn't help himself. She'd gotten way beyond his comfort zone.

She said nothing. She just stared at him and smiled. Or was it a grin? She was breathing excitedly, too excitedly for it to be normal. After a few disturbingly long seconds, she sat back down in the chair and started stroking Merrill's cock fast, staring at it intently. When she put her mouth back on it, he was skeptical. He wasn't entirely sure why she didn't bolt when he pushed her away in the outburst.

Then for a moment he thought he imagined her teeth scraping his sides and after a few more close moments he was sure it wasn't his imagination anymore.

"Whoa, hold up" Merrill pleaded, mildly alarmed.

She had her teeth lightly but firmly on his cock and was jerking him into her mouth. If he knew her at all, he'd be okay with it, slightly kinky, whatever. But she was starting to look unhinged to him and a buried sense of self preservation took over. Merrill stood up and slid away along the side of the desk, one of her hands still firmly holding his cock. He had to push her hand away to get free.

"Fucking pussy," she spat at him and stood up, an unsettled grin on her face.

Merrill backed up a few steps and pulled up his pants, out of breath and disoriented. This all had been a terrible mistake, he realized. And then she exploded.

She swept the desk with her arms, strewing everything violently. Stacks of papers, forms, pens, rulers all went their separate ways, some hitting the floor, making him cringe beyond reason. Others got trampled. She jumped up and sat down on the table facing him, her ass crumpling up and folding important paperwork. Her short skirt rode up out of the way and she spread her legs wide. As he watched in disbelief she violently tore her pantyhose open and pulled her blue panties aside with her hand.

Jesus fuck, how did it ever get to this point, Merrill wondered? He urgently wanted to get rid of her right this second. The fucking bitch messed up all his careful paperwork. Feeling of regret was rising.

But hypnotized with the sight of her shaved pussy, his pants dropped back down seemingly on their own and his anger instantly converted into lust. The drive toward her was purely animalistic. That skirt was freakishly stretchy. How could he resist her spread legs and her pussy just waiting for him?

"Fuck me, you bastard," she growled at him and spread her legs wider.

Shaking from excitement, from the challenge, the adrenaline - he didn't know what - Merrill pushed her legs back behind her knees and entered her.

Her pussy felt cold, tight, then instantly warm, then soft, then burning hot. It felt an entire range of new. Fucking her felt like heaven. It felt wrong. It felt like pure undiluted nastiness.

She released her legs to his care and grabbed onto the sides of the table, clutches of papers and forms getting tracked along with her fingers and he felt her disregard for his orderliness amplify his anger. Merrill slammed into her and grunted.

She screamed pleasure at the top of her lungs. It drove him crazy.

Merrill slammed into her again and grunted without ever meaning to. It knocked one of her shoes off. She screamed some more.

"Fuck me harder, you son of a bitch," she bared through her teeth and he kissed her in desperation somewhere between wanting to shut her up and needing to feel her loving mouth again. This was such a strange exhilarating moment. She bailed from the kiss and bit Merrill's neck and then started clawing his back and sides under his shirt as he fucked her. It hurt but he couldn't register the pain. All he wanted to do was fuck her more, angrily.