The Handyman (18+ Only) [COMPLETED]

7: In Which She is Almost - but Not Quite - Katy Perry

7: In Which She is Almost - but Not Quite - Katy Perry

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I had only actually met Harriet Periwinkle once before.

As Jack had been quick to point out, her husband (whatever his name was) owned the stables beside the Comptons Lake, ergo the Periwinkles were a very wealthy couple – and extremely stuck-up and old-fashioned, at least from what little I’d seen.

So it was no wonder I was shaking in my gladiator sandals as I made my way into my kitchen. Harriet Periwinkle was the last person I’d ever wanted to discover me spread-eagled before my plumber. Not that I actually ever wanted anyone to find out about this little affair – but that was beside the point.

Peeking through the entranceway, I spotted Harriet Periwinkle sitting at the table, sipping a large glass of what I could see was pulp orange juice. She’d quickly made herself right at home without my say-so. Dressed in a silk cream blouse and tan slacks, she looked exactly like the pompous Stepford wife I knew she was. Everything about her screamed opulence and sophistication, and it greatly intimidated me. I didn’t have any idea of what she would say.

I cleared my throat and went in, pasting a wide smile on my face. “Is the juice OK?” The cheer in my voice was forced but Harriet looked up at me, smiling back.

“I hope you don’t mind, dear,” she said serenely, raising the glass.

“Not at all,” I countered, going into the fridge myself and getting out the jug for myself. I avoided eye contact as I went to get a glass. Perhaps if I did that long enough, she’d dissipate into thin air and I could pretend she had never been here, never even existed.

“Is that young Vaughn Parker upstairs?” she asked after a long moment of silence had passed.

I glanced at her. “Er, yes… He’s doing the shower.”

“Oh? Broken, is it?”

“Very.”

She nodded sagely. “Understandable. This house is as old as the hills, as are most of the others.”

“Mrs. Periwinkle –” I began.

“I won’t tell, you know,” she said gently, blue eyes sincere.

“You…you won’t?” I asked loudly. The hammering had started up again upstairs and neither of us could act as though Vaughn wasn’t in my bedroom after fúcking me.

“Of course not.” Harriet waved a hand. “We all need…a release. Besides, dear Jack doesn’t seem much fun, does he?”

“He… I… I don’t make it a habit, Mrs. Periwinkle,” I finished lamely, knowing that I was blushing like a boil.

“Please, call me Harriet. We’re just girls here. You have my word, dear – my lips are sealed.”

Lucky. I’m so fucking lucky, I thought to myself, breathing an audible sigh of relief.

I gulped down the bitter juice in one swig, wiping my mouth when I was done. Smoothing down the hem of my dress, I started to think of ways to get her to leave, now that I knew that my secret was safe with her. Between my legs, there was the slightest trickle of liquid, and I experienced a miniature heart attack when I remembered that Vaughn hadn’t used protection before Harriet caught us.

My chest constricted. I was clean – you couldn’t get disease from your hand – but was Vaughn? How was I supposed to know he wasn’t shagging every married, single, widowed or divorced woman in town? Obviously, his morals were…loose and I had no right to assume he used protection with every woman he was with. The only plus side of this was that I was still taking birth control but the Pill wasn’t any protection from STDs…