I had a leak under my kitchen sink. Nothing major, but enough to leave water pooling by the cabinets. I live alone, and I usually call maintenance for stuff like this, but I mentioned it to a friend who said her neighbor was great with repairs and owed her a favor. I didn’t ask too many questions. She gave him my number, and we set up a time for him to come by that afternoon.
I had no idea what to expect. I assumed he’d be older. Maybe married. He wasn’t. He showed up in a black t-shirt, work pants, tool bag over his shoulder. Polite but not chatty. The kind of guy who listens more than he speaks. He knelt down, checked the pipe, and started working like he’d done it a hundred times. I offered him water. He said no, thanked me, then got back to it.
I wasn’t trying to be flirty. I was just in a soft crop top and shorts because it was hot. But I noticed his eyes flick to my thighs once. Then again when I leaned over the counter. I acted like I didn’t notice, but I definitely did.
He finished quickly. Said it was a loose connection and that it should be fine now. I thanked him, told him I owed him a drink sometime. He just gave me a quiet smile and said, “You’re good. Just don’t lean too far over the counter or someone’s going to forget what they came here for.”
That stopped me.
I stared at him for a second. My heart kicked up. He didn’t move. He just watched me. I walked around the counter slowly and asked, “Is that what happened to you?”
He didn’t answer with words. He stepped forward, pressed his hand to my hip, and kissed me like he had been thinking about it since he got here. I kissed him back harder, pulling him closer, his hands already sliding up under my shirt. I guided him toward the counter without thinking, climbing up, legs parting around his waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I didn’t even care that the front door was still half open. His hand was already inside my shorts. I was soaked, aching, completely gone. He pulled them down just far enough, then unzipped and slid into me with one slow, steady thrust. I gasped. He grabbed my thighs and started moving, his breath heavy in my ear, both of us trying to stay quiet but not succeeding.
It didn’t take long. It wasn’t about lasting forever. It was hot and raw and unfiltered, like we had both needed it more than we realized. I came fast, grinding into him with my hands digging into his shoulders. He followed with a low groan, head buried in my neck, hands gripping me like he was afraid I’d vanish.
After, we both laughed softly. No awkwardness. Just heat between us and a puddle of water still on the floor.
He asked if I needed anything else fixed before he left. I didn’t answer. I just looked at him and said, “You’re welcome to stop by again, even if nothing’s broken.”
