The Time to Strike

Jerri was no good at household repair. Her skills were people skills, not manual ones. Now she needed some skilled hands. For some mysterious reason, her toilet had overflowed when she used it last night. Why? She'd only peed, for heavens sake.

The plunger didn't move anything. She had a rusty plumber's snake that seemed always to have been in the house—it was an old house, she had grown up in it—but when she awkwardly forced the snake partway down, it hit some kind of hard blockage. She had no idea what it could be.

Alfonso was her go-to guy for these things. He didn't answer, so she left a message. This was the only toilet in the house. It wasn't just her, but Jenni, her five-year-old, would also need it. Please, Alfonso, call me back right away.

It was two hours before she heard from him. And the news wasn't good.

"Gerri, sorry, but I'm already on my way to LA. My brother, he's in some kinda trouble, he needs me there." Gerri had asked if he knew anybody else. A regular plumber would probably cost her a week's wages, with tips.

Alfonso thought for a moment. "Look, I got this friend, Richard. He don't do this as a business. But he's help me a few times, he know shit like this. You could give him a call, see if he can come over."

Worth a try. Richard had a deep voice and spoke slowly. He asked Gerri to describe the problem, twice, as if it seemed rather exotic to him. Then he said he owed Alfonso a favor, he'd come over.

* * * * *

Jerri had suspected from Richard's voice that he was a big man, and he was. Kind of on the shapeless side, but not soft-looking. His hands were huge. Gerri, who had some experience of the streets, thought he looked like a man you wouldn't want to crowd too much.

With her, Richard acted a bit shy. Jerri could talk easily to all kinds of people. But one of the things a good waitress knows is who not to chatter at. Respect people's silence. So she gave Richard a couple of warm smiles and showed him the bathroom. Richard went back his car, came back with a toolbox, and tinkered around for a long time. Jerri was wondering how bad it was. She was going to offer him twice whatever she would have paid Alfonso—glad to do it, but she still hoped it wouldn't be too bad.

At length Richard came into the kitchen. He was holding a small purple plastic cup in his hand, part of a play tea set Jenni had.

"There's your blockage. It was just the perfect size to block the horn."

"Horn?" said Jerri.

"Toilet horn. It's... like, the inside of the toilet goes like this... " He moved his hand in curves. "Called the horn."

"Oh, gee," said Jerri. "Thanks so much for solving it."

"How old is this house?" Richard asked abruptly.

"Built in 1955," she said. "My grandparents bought it when it was new."

"I like these old houses," he said.

"I grew up in this house. My parents got it from Grandpa and Grandma. Then it was part of my mother's estate a few years ago."

"At least you don't have a mortgage to pay off."

"Actually, I do, sort of. I have a brother and a sister. I had to buy out their shares. Still paying them off."

"Well, houses hold their value nowadays."

"If you have the money to hold them. . . Say, Richard, I just made some tea. Care to join me for a cup? Or I'll make coffee, if you like that better."

Richard looked slightly scared, as if he didn't know what he should say. Then he gestured vaguely, as if to indicate these things really weren't up to him, then sat down where Jerri indicated, at the kitchen table.

* * * * * * * * *

Jerri was a little smaller than average. Compactly shaped. She looked good in pants. Her face was not especially beautiful, but it was balanced and friendly and alert as if she noticed details, which she did. Her memory for faces, names and personalities was prodigious. Nobody could beat her at TV or movie trivia. She could beat many men at pro sports trivia, too.

She had never married Jenni's father. That was fine, since things had not worked out. Things had not worked out, either, with the couple of guys she had been involved with since. Jerri had had enough of roughness, enough of turbulence. She wanted her life to have an even, predictable tenor. There was Jenni to think of. Money was always a worry. She was grateful as long as she could pay the bills. She loved living in this old family house, and God knows she didn't want to be paying rent, but the place threatened to become a money sinkhole.

His toilet-repair skills aside (he had refused to take any payment whatsoever), she had liked Richard right away. He was quiet, and she knew, in the way she knew these things about people, that he was a gentle man, though she still had the sense it wouldn't be wise to provoke him. His shyness with her pushed exactly the right womanly buttons: she found herself thinking she would like nothing better than to convince a man like that to come to bed with her.

How to do it?

The answer to that question was provided a few days later. By the toilet.

* * * * *

Again, Jerri got up in the middle of the night to pee. She flushed and started back to bed. An odd sound stopped her. It was coming from the water tank of the toilet. Then, to her horror, she saw water, quite a bit of water, dripping from under the tank lid onto the floor. Unwisely, she lifted it. Water sprayed everywhere.

Oh God God God! What was wrong? How could she stop it? She didn't have the faintest idea. She hesitated—but what the fuck else was she going to do? Richard was the only one she knew who could tell her how to stop it. She dialed his number.

Richard answered right away, sleepy. "Yeah."

"Richard, oh God, I'm so sorry for this but I've got water running from my toilet all over the place. Can you tell me what to do?" She was so flustered she hadn't even told him who was calling.

"Ummm, where is it coming from?"

"From the back, you know, the tank, where the water comes from."

"All right, just look under the toilet, near the floor. See that little faucet? All you do is turn it to the right."

"Yeah, OK, OK, I'm turning it."

"Did the water stop flowing?"

"Yeah... oh, yeah... Richard, I'm so embarrassed. Oh God. I wouldn't have bothered you for anything, but I was just so panicked and couldn't think of anything to do."

"Are you OK now?"

"My heart is still beating like crazy, but I'm OK. Look, can I see you tomorrow so I can apologize face to face?"

"You don't need to apologize, Jerri. But face to face sounds good."

Her heart speeded up again. What was he saying? What was he saying?

"Jerri?"

"Uh... uh..." she breathed. "Yeah, I'm here." She swallowed so loud he must have heard it.

"You sound upset. Maybe I oughta come over there."

"No..." she said, faintly. "I can't put you to more trouble."

"I wouldn't call it trouble. Do you have to go to work early tomorrow?"

"No."

"Neither do I. You sound like you could use company. You can make me a cup of tea."

Now she actually sobbed. It had been so long since anybody at all had wanted to take care of her.

"Can I come over? Jerri?"

"Sure... if it's not too much trouble..."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

* * * * * * * * *

Jerri would never have done this deliberately, but since it had unfolded this way, now was the time to strike.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was disheveled. She picked up a comb, then put it down. Let him see her this way. What did they call it, deshabille? Her hair would remind him that she'd just climbed out of bed. It might also remind him that when a woman makes love, her hair gets all messed up.

She was wearing a colorful nightshirt that fell to her thighs. Could she meet him in this? It showed her body well, but... Richard wasn't stupid. She went into the bedroom pulling it off and threw it on the bed. She slipped on a terrycloth bathrobe and tied the tie. The fuchsia color went well with her hair, skin and eyes. Hmm, no cleavage. She pulled at the lapels. But even if she left it open almost to the waist he'd see just the area between her breasts and a slice of her midriff

Her signal had to be unmistakeable, and yet not so obvious it insulted Richard's intelligence. She took off the bathrobe went to a drawer, and took out an underwire strapless bra. It raised her breasts and pushed them closer together. Now, with the bathrobe on, there was a little bit of cleavage. If she folded her arms, even more.

Richard would want to look at the toilet. Her bedroom was right across the hall from the bathroom. The head of the bed was under the window so Jerri could look at the stars on clear nights. Not visible from the door. But if she... She moved a couple of chairs and a small table that were against the bedroom wall facing the hallway. With difficulty, she dragged and shoved the bed over against that wall. Now it was well illuminated by the hall light. The rumpled covers were thrown back and a girlish nightshirt was half on the sheet, dangling almost to the floor. She hesitated. Then she slipped off her panties and threw them on the floor by the bed. Perfect.

Only a few minutes till Richard got here. She went to the kitchen to start water for tea. She needed something in the kitchen, but what? It struck her. She ran to her closet and dug around on the upper shelf. She found it—an alabaster statue of some neoclassical nude. A friend had brought it to her from a trip to France. Jerri didn't know anything about art, but she knew this was kitsch. No matter, it was a nude woman. She looked around the kitchen—where to put it? There was space at the end of the cookbook shelf. If Richard sat so, he'd be facing it. He might notice that it hadn't been there a few days ago, but again, she wanted him to guess that she was sending a signal. She couldn't be too subtle about it.

* * * * *

She answered the door with more apologies, which gave Richard another opportunity to be magnanimous. She knew her face would look timid to him, which was exactly how she wanted it to look. Richard was her benefactor, protector of a helpless woman. Jerri thought that without irony. She was helpless, in a lot of ways. And she so craved the feeling of somebody to protect her.

"I'm so glad you wanted to come over," she said. "When things like this happen, I'm, well... a bit helpless. I stop thinking." She paused, then said hesitantly, "They make me realize how alone I am."

Richard merely gave her an ambiguous expression, then went down the hall to look at the toilet. He did turn his head toward the bedroom, briefly, but she couldn't see his face. He suggested that they mop the water up. They did, together, on their hands and knees on the floor, wringing the mop rags into the toilet bowl. Richard said that the filler valve had split. He pointed out that everything inside the tank looked ancient. They agreed that he'd replace it all tomorrow.

They went to the kitchen and Jerri poured tea. She told Richard that Jenni denied throwing the cup in the toilet, she said Erica did it. She talked for a few minutes as mothers do about their child. Then she asked Richard, "Do you have kids?"

"No," he said, at little abruptly. "I've never had the opportunity for a family."

Jerri was unsure how to respond. Finally, she said gently, "Are you married?"

"Was once," he said. "Didn't work out."

Jerri gave him an understanding smile. "I know how that feels." Not thinking, she added, "I don't have much luck with men. I seem always to bet on the bad ones."

Richard shot her a startled look. "I hope that doesn't apply to me."

Jerri was stricken. And at the same time her heart skipped a beat. "Oh, no, no, Richard, of course not. I wasn't thinking of you at all. Look what you've done for me. Coming over here just because you're worried about how I feel. No, no, you feel like the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."

Richard's look was long enough to have a question in it. Again, she hadn't planned it this way, but it was time to set the hook.

Both of his big hands were holding his mug of tea. She lowered her head, trying to look right into his eyes, and touched his knuckles with just two fingertips. "Richard, it's late. I wouldn't mind at all if you slept here for the rest of the night." Her voice was soft. She put a light emphasis on "at all."

He didn't move his hands and stared at the cup. This was the moment of decision. He'd either bite or he'd make an excuse and swim away. Several long seconds passed. Finally he spoke.

"It's been a long time for me, Jerri." Now he glanced at her in the doubtful way that meant don't blame me if it all goes wrong.

Now she could easily, naturally look him in the eyes. She moved her fingers till they cupped the hairy back of his hand. He wanted her. That was all she needed. She could do the rest.

She said, almost in a whisper, "Me too, Richard. We don't have to do anything. Just cuddle. I love just being held."

Richard stood up abruptly. Jerri, startled, was a split second behind him. They gave each other a long, wondering look, then came together almost with a thump. Jerri folded her arms and burrowed her face into his shirt. His great big hands covered her whole back, like armor. All she could say was, "Oh, oh, oh, ooooohh!" Richard murmured something indistinct.

After that, things were a bit of a whirl. She grabbed his hand, led him down the hall to her room, closed and locked the door, and then threw her arms around him in the dark. This time he put his right hand on the back of her head, pressing her into him as if she were a small child. She cooed. She could feel his faster breathing.

"Where can we sit down?" he asked as if he didn't trust his voice.

She took his hand. "Over here." They walked the few steps to the bed and sat down side by side.

And suddenly, they were both lying on their sides, cross-wise on the bed, each holding the other's face, and kissing like mad. Something old surfaced in Jerri and took over, that dreamy outside-yourself feeling that comes when Eros arises. You are about to join with a strange human body, yet it feels foreordained. She was already wet, but her cunt could wait. Now she just wanted to kiss and whimper. Having those big arms around her was worth the whole price of admission.

Richard's hands tried to pull her bathrobe open. Oh God, the bra! She'd assumed she'd be able to take it off in the dark while she was a little apart from him. But Richard wanted her breasts now. Delaying him wasn't a good idea. She quickly untied the knot and let him open the robe. His hands hungrily cupped her encased tits.

"Let me take it off," she whispered. Her hands behind her, she unsnapped the thing and flung it aside. Richard's huge hands now cupped her bare skin. A big, rough thumb gently rubbed each nipple. She gasped with pleasure. And without even thinking about it, she went for his crotch. As she'd thought, it was rock hard. She rubbed it through his pants. She thought, vaguely in her dreamy state, wow, that feels big.

Now it was Richard's turn to struggle, with his belt and pants and shorts. He was so excited he was fumbling. He leapt his butt up off the bed and tugged both the pants down around his knees. His shorts got caught in his erection. Swearing, he freed it. He rolled to face Jerri, and she folded her fingers around what she now knew, for sure, was the biggest, hardest cock she had ever felt. She slipped her hand up and down, purring into his chest. A tiny river of precum was streaming out of him. She cupped his scrotum, big, heavy, tight. She tapped her fingernail on the centerline as far back as she could reach, as close to his asshole and she could get, tickled him, then slowly ran the nail from far back to front. She started to slide down, kissing his shirt as she went. He held her back.

"No," he rasped, "not yet. I just need to be inside you, right now. Is that OK?"

Jerri immediately rolled onto her back and spread her legs, reaching for him. Richard struggled to kick his pants off. He didn't bother about the shirt. He rolled between her thighs. She couldn't anywhere near get her arms around him, but what pleasure just trying! His sheer size excited her. Her other lovers had been, like her, more trimly built. Richard covered her like a mountain. He made her feel tiny. She wanted to hide under him forever. His big shoulders, arms and chest were hard muscle. He had a bit of a gut. Not that she would think about it with that Thing inside her.

Richard raised himself awkwardly, took himself in hand, and stroked her opening with the tip. They were both putting out a lot of fluid; the whole zone slick with it. Jerri was all nerves down there. He knew where the most sensitive spot was and caressed it with his tool. She whimpered, groaned and panted, trying to slide herself down so It would enter her.

Richard lifted himself away slightly, then came back, rubbing her now with the sensitive underside of his cock. He wanted to enjoy her wetness. Jerri rocked her hips slightly, trying to match his rhythm, press against him harder. She was becoming frantic. She reached down and got a hold of him, sliding him in her hand. Then she pressed it down, whimpering, to her opening. She had to get it into her.

Richard began to press the head in. Slowly her labia rolled aside. She began to stretch open. But his width seemed to grow and grow. She felt a stab of something close to terror. What if it was just too big? Or she was too small? But whatever her fears, it was going to happen. She realized dimly now that she had never really felt penetrated before. This was penetration! It bordered on violation! She was in pleasure and in pain, equal and intense. All she could do was dig her fingers into his lats, bite his shirt, and let his body decide what was going to happen. She craved this feeling of huge fullness, but it was almost too much. Like too much happiness, making you feel giddy and shaky.

He kept entering slowly, little by little, firmly filling her canal, pushing against all the wet, swollen tissues—would it never stop?—then pulling back just an inch or so, waiting, then once again giving her the overpowering sweetness of her womanhood yielding to him. She gasped and gurgled. She yelped with pleasure. She had an urge to get a hold on him somewhere and make him feel the same kind of pleasure she was feeling. She wanted to stroke and tickle his balls while he came. But his size made her helpless. And she realized that having no choice but to surrender was a new kind of pleasure. He was in control. He was taking her. His massiveness and firmness would decide. She was water, he was earth. She was the river, he was its bed. She would yield to every last, little thing he did with her.

When Richard had opened her thoroughly, he began thrusting, tentatively at first. Jerri's pleasure began to crest in sudden spikes. It was like being stabbed with a pleasure-knife. With each one she a kind of muffled yell and she clasped him harder. She'd better be careful. She didn't want Jenni waking up. She began whispering, mindlessly, "Fuck, Richard, oh fuck, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me again, yes, God, FUCK ME!"

Richard was thrusting hard and deep now, gasping and beginning to make sounds of satisfaction with each plunge, a cross between a grunt and a roar. Jerri's arms flopped uselessly down on the bed, her head lolled back, she was senseless to everything except Richard's heavy, hairy loins slamming into hers like a runaway train, his long pumping piston ripping her cunt open, driving her over the edge.

She came, then, too loudly, incoherently, massaging his shaft with her climax pulses. Her toes curled, her perineum clenched. The pleasure shot like electricity up her spine, down her arms and into her fingertips. She levitated. Her whole body was wrapped in a warm cloud. It appeared she had not really known what an orgasm was like, either—had never had this kind of nuclear fireball pulsing through her entire midsection.