The Repairman

It was four-twenty five, and the roads were jammed with the usual rush hour congestion. Nick reached down and turned the vents of his AC grille, directing the flow of air to his face, feeling the cool breeze across his flushed, sweaty forehead. It had been a very hard day; he had already done seven repair calls, and he was feeling the wave of fatigue that usually hit him at this hour of the day. He was looking forward to getting home and relaxing with a nice, hot shower and a delicious meal. His mind wandered as he thought of being home; his castle, his domain. He loved it there; it was his reward for the hard work of his demanding job. Being an air conditioning repairman in Southern Florida was not the easiest occupation on earth, but in all of the years that he had been doing it, he had never been laid off due to lack of work. Everyone in the state had an air conditioner, and he was always very busy.

His mind wandered to his wife, to whom he had been married for five years. She would be home from her own job by now, and would be cooking, waiting for him to walk in the door. Her smiling face flashed in his mind, and he thought of her soft, warm body pressed against his, her hands caressing him gently. He paused in his thoughts, shaking his head. Lately, it seemed, all of his thoughts had, in one way or another, led to explicit sexual fantasies. He spent the entire work -day fantasizing about various situations, usually involving any attractive woman that crossed his path! He had never even considered being unfaithful to his wife, but the fantasies helped him to deal with the day’s drudgery.

He was now forty years old, this particular “event” being a semi-traumatic time in his life. When he was younger, forty seemed so old! Ancient! Every day, he would look at himself in the mirror, searching his face for signs of old age. He was about five foot six, around one hundred and fifty pounds. His hair was very close cropped, and he sported a goatee beard that was increasingly appearing to change color before his very eyes.
“There it is! Another gray hair!” he would say, his wife would shake her head, laughing under her breath at his vanity.

He had begun a daily exercise regimen, involving running, sit-ups, and other routines, and had succeeded in losing a large amount of the weight that he had accumulated in his thirties. He was now at the same weight that he had been in high school, and he had never felt better physically in his life, but no matter how hard he tried, the specter of his impending mortality refused to leave his mind.

The one thing that he did not expect was the increase in his sex drive. He was always horny, it seemed! The smallest thing could set him off; a passing glance from an attractive woman, a sexy walk, a nice pair of legs, sometimes just a woman’s voice, or her eyes. It seemed that his appreciation of the opposite sex had increased exponentially with his age.

Even now, as he sat in the crawling parade of rush hour traffic, he thought of his wife’s naked body, lying in wait on their queen sized bed, her legs spread invitingly…..
RRRRRRRRRRRIINNNGGGG…
The sound of his cell phone nearly made him jump out of his skin! He angrily picked it up from its dash- mounted holder, pushed the “answer” button, and pressed the phone to his ear.
“Hello.”
“Nick?”
“Yeah.”
“This is Ron.”
“Yeah. I know. What up?”
“Got one more call for ya, Slick.”
Nick groaned audibly.
“Oh, come on! I ‘ve been killin’ myself today!”
“Yeah, Nick, I know, but you’re the best we’ve got, and this is a regular customer! Help me out here, Bud!”
Nick grew silent, a sure sign to his boss that he was consenting.
“Ahh, what the hell. I could use the overtime. Where is it?”
“Ritzy place on the island. Some rich lady, a Mrs. Ashley. Pays cash. I hear she tips, too!”
Nick smiled. “Yeah, right, that’s what you always say, Ron.”
“21 Ocean Way. Use the service entrance.”
“Whatever. Thanks Ron.”
He called his wife, letting her know that he would be working late again. He hated the disappointment in her voice at this news. She loved him so much, and worried about him.

Nick set down the phone, let out a big sigh, and looked for the next exit off the Interstate.
He found the address painted on a sign in front of a pair of high, wooden gates. He turned his van into the driveway, and stopped next to a small security station. He rolled his window down, and pushed the button marked “CALL”.
Nothing.
He pushed it again, harder.
Still nothing.
Disgusted, he started to roll his window up.
“Yessssss?”
The loud voice blurting from the box startled him.
He lowered the window back down.
“Air conditioning.”
“Yess.. Thank God you’re here. Come in!”

The large wooden gates began to open slowly. Nick knew what to expect. This person would be an old, spoiled rich lady, expecting him to fix the problem quickly and with minimal interference in her sheltered life. He had done hundreds of calls like these, and knew the routine. Kiss their ass, and hope for a tip.
He guided his service van down the winding, gravel driveway, the rocks grinding under his heavy tires. The vegetation on either side of the road made a kind of “tunnel” effect; the queen palms, bougainvillea, and sea grape brushing against the side of the vehicle softly as he slowly made his way toward the main house. The driveway forked ahead, a sign indicating a right hand turn for service, a left hand turn for guests. Nick smiled to himself, thinking that he would never be able to turn left here.

He made his way around a sharp curve, and there was the house. Huge and imposing, he was almost immediately impressed. He had seen and been in many houses of the wealthy here, and he loved the older houses, the ones that had been built in the twenties and maintained in their original condition. This was such a house. It was still clad in the old Florida stucco finish, freshly painted, with the barrel tile roof. It had the original slide up windows, obviously in good working condition, because they were open. It always amazed him that something as beautiful as this could be completely hidden from view, here in the jungle. But, he knew that this place was considered a hiding place for the very wealthy, and that these people treasured their privacy, and would go to great lengths to preserve it.

“If only they could fix their own air conditioners.”
Nick smiled at this thought.
He walked across the driveway, stepped up on the raised tile porch, and pushed the lighted doorbell. He waited patiently, looking downward, avoiding the temptation to peer inside the small window at eye level on the door. After a few minutes, he heard the sound of the deadbolt turning, and the chain being removed from the slider. The door pulled open, and Nick found himself looking at the “owner” of the house.
“Oh, thank God you’re here!”
“Mrs. Ashley?”
“Yes!”
“My name’s Nick.”
“Hello Nick.” She said, flashing a bright smile.

She was not what he expected. She was slightly shorter than him, about forty-five, with dark brown hair. The first thing that occurred to him was that she was very cute. Not gorgeous, but definitely cute. Her hair was tied up on top of here head in a girlish ponytail, some of it spilling down over her face. She had a pert, upturned nose, and brown eyes that caught Nick’s gaze fearlessly. Nick immediately thought that she would never have to use mascara, her eyelashes were thick and lush naturally. What really disarmed him was that smile. It was the smile of a high school cheerleader, slightly innocent, while at the same time naughty, her straight white teeth showing between her full lips. Nick found himself smiling back, unable to speak. His eyes moved down, and he saw that she was wearing a flowered robe tied with a sash around her waist. She was not skinny, but not what he would consider overweight, either. He liked women that were not too thin, anyway. He found himself blushing at these thoughts, and immediately broke his gaze from her.

“This thing has been broken for a couple of hours now. I was down at the beach, so I didn’t notice it earlier. When I got back up here, I felt that awful heat, and I checked the thermostat, but it didn’t work.”
As she spoke, she turned and walked into the house, Nick’s eyes dropping to survey her full hips as she moved.
“Yes,” he thought, “this lady is sexy.”

He followed her through the house, out of the kitchen, and into the living room. He was immediately taken aback by the full wall of windows on the east side of the room, the ocean view magnificent. The ceilings were at least twenty feet high, and the room was trimmed with the rare pecked cypress of traditional old Florida homes. Antique furniture lined the walls, and the room had a comforting, wooden smell that he loved.

He watched her move across the room, his eyes glued to her hips swaying back and forth. She turned to him, smiling.
“The air conditioner is in here. I hope you can help me. I can’t stand this Florida heat too long!”
Nick smiled at her. “No problem, Ma’am. I’ll take care of it.”
“I’m going into the guest wing to shower. If you need anything, I’ll be back in a few short minutes. There are sodas in the fridge!”
Nick worked on the unit slowly, finding the problem in the wiring, and making the repair meticulously, hoping that Mrs. Ashley would return soon.
Soon, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. As if on cue, the air conditioner started up, humming softly.