The Carpenter

"Yeah, pretty much. Until he passed away a few years ago."

Max wasn't sure why she shared this detail; perhaps to avoid further questions about her dad. Diana just nodded and said she was sorry to hear that. That was at least something; some sympathy Max wouldn't have expected from her.

"What do you do?" Max asked, trying to divert the attention away from her own personal life.

"Oh, I'm in finance. It's boring but it makes a killing." She laughed loudly. Max could certainly see that.

"How long have you been in the US? You're British, right?"

That accent, that sexy accent. Max had never been to Europe but she always pictured England to be full of hot, posh women with sexy accents, who drank lots of tea.

"Guilty as charged." Another wink; these were becoming far too common. "I'm from England originally. I moved here, oh let's see, about ten years ago." She chuckled as if to an inside joke. "You wouldn't recognise me if you'd seen me then. Oh, I may have a picture."

She picked up her phone and judging by the speed she found a picture, it hadn't been tucked away that far; certainly not ten years' worth of archive deep.

Diana leaned over the table, suddenly revealing an overwhelming amount of cleavage. Max's eyes were drawn to it like a magnet. She averted her gaze as quickly as she could, her heart beating in her throat. Diana grinned broadly; Max's indiscretion had not escaped her attention. Max cursed herself. She had to get a grip.

"Look how young I look!"

The picture showed Diana in a cocktail dress, wearing some sort of ID badge. She was clearly fishing for compliments; she looked hardly any different from how she looked now. Sure, she was a bit paler and her hair was a bit shorter, but it was complete nonsense that Max wouldn't recognise her. She nodded noncommittally, unsure of why she was looking at the picture.

"These were taken at a work conference." Diana now flicked to the next photo. It was clearly taken at the same event, as Diana was wearing the same dress.

In this picture, she posed next to a handsome dark-haired youngster, who grinned broadly at the camera, as if being by Diana's side was the best gig in the world.

There was something about the youngster that made Max do a double-take. What she had mistaken for a guy, was actually a girl. A very butch-looking girl in a black suit and waistcoat, pulling off androgyny like she'd invented it. Max was intrigued. Who was this, obviously gay, girl? And why did she look like the cat that ate the canary standing by Diana's side?

When she looked up, she saw that Diana was looking at her, clearly trying to gauge her reaction. Max wasn't sure what her face had given away, but she was sure she couldn't feign complete indifference.

"Oh, what conference? And is this a colleague?" She tried to sound casual but was probably failing.

Diana completely ignored the first question. She knew it was a ruse. "That's Rowan. She was my... disciple. Unfortunately she chose a different path in the end."

There was something about her tone of voice that suggested the girl had been more than that. Suddenly it was crystal clear to Max that Rowan - whoever she was - was the reason Diana had brought out the pictures.

But what was she trying to do? Was she trying to show Max that she had known other gay girls? That she was okay with that? Or perhaps much more; that she had been with other gay girls? Was this Rowan an old lover?

Max was suddenly overheating. The thought of Diana with a girl - any girl, but particularly one that was just as much tomboy as Max herself was - was too much. Up to now, she had assumed Diana was just flirting with her a little, just for fun. She would surely never really do more because she was married, to a man. That thought suddenly seemed naive.

Just when Max decided to excuse herself and get back to work, Diana asked: "Do you have a girlfriend, Max?"

Right, straight to the point. It was pretty obvious that Max was gay, she knew that, but it would have been nice to have been able to leave that implicit a bit longer; to not encourage Diana any further with her sexuality or relationship status.

But what could she do? Pretend she was straight? There was no way. Make up an imaginary girlfriend? She'd never been very good at lying.

"No...," she said eventually, trying not to sound defeated.

Diana didn't even hide how pleased she was with that answer. "Excellent," she said, not bothering to explain to Max why that was so great.

Max of course now had some ideas about that. In fact, her mind was probably running ahead even further than it should. She was starting to panic.

"I better get back to work."

"Yes, I'm not just paying you for your company. Go ahead."

Max tried to ignore the implication that Diana was paying her for her work as well as her company. That must have been a slip of the tongue.

The rest of the afternoon, Max focussed all her energy on the foundation framework of the new deck, while Diana worked on her laptop in the kitchen. Max tried to ignore the fact that she was there, and her recent discoveries about Diana.

But she kept seeing that grinning face of the twenty-something girl - Rowan - who was so clearly enamoured with Diana. Perhaps it wasn't mutual. Perhaps it was Rowan who'd had a crush on Diana. Perhaps nothing had happened after all. It was just as likely. But then why did her brain dismiss this thought so vehemently? And why did she feel a hint of disappointment when she tried to convince it not to.

The afternoon was spent going back and forth between these thoughts and at the same time working a bit harder. Time spent here had become dangerous, although Max wasn't quite sure what form that danger would take. The quicker she could finish the job, the better.

So when she said goodbye at the end of the day, she was exhausted and didn't mind in the slightest that Diana was distracted by her work and barely even acknowledged her.

* * * * *

The next morning - after another restless night, this time filled with dreams of Diana and Rowan - Max turned up to find Diana in the middle of a yoga session. She was accompanied by a skinny and insanely flexible young man, who had rolled out his mat facing her.

Max didn't know enough about yoga to be able to name the pose they were in, but she did know that it offered a very aesthetically pleasing view of Diana's taut behind, which was now clad in nothing but tight purple leggings. The leggings were paired with a racerback tank top that put Diana's breasts at serious risk of falling out when she bent over.

Max groaned quietly to herself. In this tight attire, it was obvious that Diana's body was even better than Max had originally anticipated. She was lean and had great muscle definition. Yet, her ass was round and perky, and her breasts were large and firm. Was this what yoga did to you? If so, the whole world should get involved with that.

"Good morning Max," Diana sang from her now bent over position. "There's fresh coffee in the kitchen."

Max snapped out of her reverie. She had been staring and wasn't sure if she'd been caught doing it. She rushed away to the kitchen and picked a safer vantage point just out of view to have a final good look and commit it to memory.

She'd have to try very hard not to let herself get distracted while she worked, even though Diana seemed extremely dedicated to distracting her. She probably wouldn't mind if the work took longer and Max had to keep coming back. In fact, that was probably her plan.

While she worked, Max couldn't help but consider again the possibility that Diana had experience with more than casual flirting during her marriage; that she may initiate more than casual flirting. How would Max feel about that? It made her nervous - slightly terrified actually - which was very unlike her.

But she couldn't deny that the thought was kind of exciting too. Obviously, the woman was really sexy and it wouldn't be a punishment if she wanted to do more. If they'd met under different circumstances, Max would certainly have been up for more.

But what was more? Max pictured making out by the pool. In the pool? Perhaps having a quick feel of those firm breasts? Maybe slipping her hand inside Diana's bathing suit...?

Max felt a familiar tingling course through her and called herself to a halt. If she wasn't careful, she'd get all hot and bothered thinking about Diana and start making moves herself. It was probably too late for the first part, but the second she could still try to avoid. 'Keep it in your pants,' Tyler's voice said again in her head. It had sounded so easy at the time.

Diana and her yoga instructor followed their session with sitting very still for a very long time on their mats. Max assumed they were meditating, although she couldn't image how they could find peace and quiet, when Max was hammering and sawing pretty much non-stop now.

Afterwards they had green tea and the instructor left. The whole routine had taken all morning. Still in her distracting yoga outfit, Diana produced a tray of food again. This time it consisted of crackers, cheeses, cold meats, fruit, and various other small snacks that Max didn't even recognise. She called Max over to the table by the pool for lunch. Apparently this was their routine now.

"This look amazing," Max said truthfully. As much as it was awkward to have lunch with Diana, she did really appreciate the amazing food that was provided.

"Did you put it together yourself?" She couldn't picture Diana slaving away in the kitchen, but still hadn't seen anyone else in the house, apart from the yoga instructor.

"God no. Kirsten does it, my maid. She prepares breakfast and lunch and leaves it in the fridge."

That made more sense, but what didn't make sense was that Kirsten wasn't around during the day. When Max asked about that, Diana's answer surprised her.

"She always leaves before I get up, or before I come home. They all do. I don't like having people around when I'm here."

That certainly suggested Max had been right in assuming she had other staff, presumably people that cooked and cleaned.

As if she thought she might have offended Max, Diana added: "Not you, of course. You are remarkably good company. You can be here as long as you want." She winked again and Max felt her nerves flutter.

As long as she wanted... She had been working towards finishing the job as quickly as she could, but the thought of leaving and never coming back suddenly felt all wrong. It was very confusing.

Max didn't feel as if she'd been 'remarkably good company' either. She'd mostly been avoiding Diana's flirtations and no doubt she'd come across distant and grumpy because of it. That wasn't right. Diana didn't deserve that. Max could at least be friendly.

She smiled and said: "Well, at the rate I'm going, I'll need another two or three days. It will probably be done on Saturday."

"So soon?" Diana pulled a sad face. "You're working too hard."

"Part of the max effort, ma'am." She tipped her cap slightly to indicate she was putting on the politeness deliberately, before Diana could reproach her for calling her ma'am.

Diana laughed at that. "And working on a Saturday too. Don't you take weekends off?"

"Sometimes. It depends on the job I'm working. I usually take Sundays off."

Diana tutted. "You are young. You must go and have fun. Before you know it you're as old as I am and the only cute, young girls in your life are the ones that build your new sun deck."

Max was lost for words. That was the most direct compliment Diana had given her and she had no idea how to reply.

"You're supposed to say I'm not that old," Diana helped her, with a wink, and clearly not taking herself too seriously.

Max nodded gratefully. "You're really not." She stopped herself from added that Diana looked great too. Too much, Max.

"Honey, I'm probably twice your age. How old are you?"

"I'm 28."

Diana looked at her appreciatively. That answer clearly pleased her. She liked the young ones, clearly.

"Okay, almost double your age then. Anyway, at your age you should be rocking the bars and chasing girls," she continued relentlessly.

Max shrugged. "That's not really my thing."

She hardly ever went out, preferring to hang out with friends at home, and girls her own age - the girls that frequented the bars and clubs - rarely interested her.

"What is your thing then?" Diana predictably asked.

Max had to smile despite herself: she'd set herself up for failure. 'This,' she wanted to say. 'A hot older woman sitting opposite me in skin-tight clothing, showing me an enticing amount of breast. You, Diana, you are my thing.' Keep it in your pants, Max.

Instead she said: "This. Building... Doing things with my hands. Carpentry is my thing."

Diana smiled as if she knew Max's thoughts had gone elsewhere, but she didn't question her response. "Very well. It good to find something you're good at and you enjoy doing. Working with your hands... That seems to be a thing for you girls."

She seemed lost in thought for a moment, but Max had no idea what she meant by 'you girls'. She didn't know that many other girls who worked with their hands in the same as she did She certainly wouldn't call it 'a thing' for girls.

"Anyway, I have some bad new for you, Max. I'm going to have to pop to the office this afternoon. There's a situation I need to deal with, which, really, they should be able to handle without me." She sighed in exasperation.

"That's okay," Max said, "I can let myself out when I'm done." She had kind of gotten used to Diana being around and would certainly miss the view.

"I'll have to go in tomorrow morning too: board meeting. You know how it is." Max had no idea. "So," she continued, "we won't be able to have our little lunch. I'll have to have lunch with our boring board members instead. It's a shame, there's no one nearly as cute as you there."

Max tried to stay cool at yet another casual reference to her cuteness, but felt her face taking on a suspicious glow.

"But you know what they say," Diana said as she picked up the tray and walked off to the kitchen, "absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Max nearly choked on the last of the orange juice she'd been trying to finish. She barely avoided spraying it over the patio and swallowed hard.

Her heart or Diana's? Neither was in particular need of growing fonder. Speaking for herself, her heart - or at least her loins - were already much fonder than she'd like.

Trying to focus on her job, Max went back to cutting the planks for the deck to size and screwing them on. It wasn't particularly demanding intellectually, but it was enough to take her mind off Diana once she'd actually left; of course looking smoking hot again in one of her power suits.

By the end of the day, the deck was finished, which left the lattice fencing and pillars. Max did a quick calculation in her head. She'd been right on the money: another two or three days should do it. Somehow the thought of having another few days here didn't feel so daunting anymore.

* * * * *

The next morning, Max was whistling as she drove her truck onto Diana's driveway. She was in a good mood. She tried to tell herself this was to do with Diana's absence this morning and the fact that she'd be able to work undisturbed.

Yet, her mind kept jumping to the moment Diana would invariably come back and see the first of the lattice work Max would have created by then. Would she be pleased? Impressed by Max's handiwork? Of course, client satisfaction was what kept their business thriving and growing, so it was only natural to long for Diana's approval, wasn't it?

When Tyler had asked her last night how the project was coming along, Max had tried to stick to the facts: her progress on the deck and her envisioned timeline to completion. Her brother had of course seen straight through her and had asked how 'side project cougar' was going. Max had told him Diana was still flirting with her, and that she had gotten the impression Diana may have had some experiences with girls in the past. What she hadn't told him was how she'd started to see that Diana wasn't just some spoiled, rich lady.

Undeniably she was that too. But there was more to her: she at least worked for a living, and she must have worked damn hard to be in the position she was in. She knew what she wanted and people clearly respected her. She'd come over from a foreign country and had built a new life for herself, an impressive one at that.

And then, despite the fact she'd probably never admit it, she was thoughtful; she cared about people. Max had concluded this from the way she'd provided food and drinks and made sure Max had a break; her concern that she was working too hard. None of her other clients had gone to such lengths.

Proving her point this morning was a note that was carefully propped between the planks of the deck where she was sure to see it:

[Morning Max. The kitchen doors are unlocked. Help yourself to coffee and whatever you want from the fridge.]

Max smiled. From cooler box outside to access to the house; clearly she'd climbed a few rungs on the trust ladder. Then she saw the P.S.:

[You better not rob me.]

Maybe she wasn't completely at the top of the ladder then. Chuckling, Max slid the kitchen door open. The smell of fresh coffee wafted towards her. The machine was still purring. It must have a timer, set to start brewing around the time Max usually came in. See, Diana really cared.

When the coffee maker was done, Max poured herself a cup. She peered into the fridge, where again a tray of sandwiches - more than she could possibly finish - sat waiting for her, alongside fresh juice, bottled water, beers and white wine; even a bottle of champagne. Max sillily wondered if they'd bust that out when the deck was finished; smash it onto its planks to wish it good fortune.

She looked around the immaculate kitchen. She recalled something she read once: you could tell much more about a person from seeing their house than hours' worth of conversation. She was suddenly insatiably curious about Diana's home; the things it would teach her about the still mysterious woman. She could just have a quick snoop....

She called herself to a stop. It was out of the question. Diana trusted her; she couldn't betray that trust. Besides, she was a professional builder. Gaining access to people's homes was a vital part of that; one she couldn't afford to jeopardise.

She made her way outside to resist further temptation. Encouraged by her resolve to impress Diana when she came home, Max set out to creating the first lattice panel. It required cutting each individual strip of the intricate pattern to size, and carefully gluing it in the right location. It was detailed work that required a lot of focus and attention. Of course, one could buy ready-made fending panels, but the handcraft was clearly superior-looking, in Max's opinion.

She only stopped briefly for lunch and by the time Diana came home mid-afternoon, she'd finished two panels.

"What do you think?" She asked Diana, when the woman hadn't volunteered her opinions straightaway. She held up a panel in the place it would be mounted.

"Oh, that looks marvellous, Max!" Diana said enthusiastically, making Max glow with pride. "I'm sorry, honey, my head is still in that meeting."

There was no need to apologise, of course, and when Max asked her: "How was work?" in return, it felt like Diana had just come home to her partner enquiring about her day. The thought both embarrassed and secretly pleased Max. Yet, she vowed to not let it happen again.

"Oh, same old problems with people being incapable of doing their jobs. You look away for one moment and they think it's a free pass to sit on their backsides and do nothing! You cannot imagine how glad I am to come home and see quite the opposite here."