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From: "Ray" <ray1031@cac.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Crowded House III, by Ray1031, (MF, Cons, Rom)
Date: Wed, 25 Dec 2002 04:10:04 -0500
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Crowded House III,  (MF, Cons, Rom)
by Ray 1031

This is my story ..... copyrighted and belonging to me.
Want to use it .... ask!

Check the codes before reading .... don't like them,
don't read further.

Like the codes .... enjoy the story.

Ray



Crowded House III  by Ray1031 

That morning when I arrived at my parts supplier it was to 
find only one of my ordered parts had arrived, but it was 
one I had waited almost six-weeks for. After calling and 
updating waiting customers, I happily completed what small 
jobs I could and drove to the Brewster home to finally 
complete their job. The little five dollar part in my hand 
would allow me to finally bill them for over twenty-five 
hundred dollars in work I'd done.

Ringing the doorbell brought no response. Carrying my tool
box around to the fenced back yard I pulled a small memo 
book from my pocket and turned to the inside cover. Listed 
there were fifteen nine-digit numbers. Each was a padlock 
combination written in my own code. Only numbers were 
listed, without names or other markings. Though unable to 
remember all of the combinations, I did know who each 
belonged to when I looked at it.

Correct numbers in mind I unlocked the gate and entered 
their back yard. Two steps in I came to a sudden stop for 
there were Mr. and Mrs. Brewster on the back deck in their 
large hot tub  ... or mostly in it.

Bill Brewster was in his early seventies and had cared 
well for himself over the years. Fit, active and agile he 
was yet a very good looking man. Jennifer, his wife - his 
second wife actually - was another story and I often 
wondered how he'd ended up with her. But it was none of 
my business and I'd never asked. In her mid thirties, lazy 
and vain, she and I had little use for one another. I had 
known the first Mrs. Brewster, before she had passed on, 
and had liked her very much. After her death it had taken 
Bill almost four years to begin living his life again and 
soon thereafter he had taken Jennifer as his second wife. 

Jennifer was now partly in and partly out of the huge 
redwood tub. Her chest against the edge with her large 
rather pendulous breasts hanging over the top, hands 
grasping the lip to either side. Bill was standing behind 
her supporting her right leg in the crook of his arm as 
his left hand grasped her long dishwater blonde hair, 
pulling her head back. Though I couldn't see below chest 
level, he was making hard rapid thrusting motions and, 
with each, her body lurched forward, swinging her breasts 
away from the edge where they would hang momentarily 
before slapping wetly back against the already soaked 
outer tub wall. Every third or fourth such lunge a small 
wave of water would slosh over the edge further wetting 
the side wall and the deck below.

Standing to the side and just slightly behind I was 
unnoticed by either and I simply stood and watched for 
long moments before deciding that discretion was my best 
option. Letting myself back out the gate I gently closed it 
and rehung the lock. Setting my tool box on the ground and 
sitting on it I lit a cigarette and waited. Now that I knew 
what was happening beyond the fence, I was able to hear 
the goings on despite the normal sounds of the surrounding 
neighborhood. Soft grunts, deepening breathing and choked 
off moans. The light sloshing of water and I even thought I 
sometimes heard the wet slapping of flesh on wood as I 
waited.

About the time I finished my cigarette, things quieted beyond 
the fence. I waited another long minute or two, until I could 
hear muted conversation noises, before 'making a noisy 
approach', picking up and dropping my toolbox loudly, 
rattling the lock 'clumsily' and calling out to any yard 
occupants that I was there.

"Is that you Doug?"

"Mr. Brewster? Yes, it's Doug. That part we've been waiting 
so long for has finally shown up. Thought I'd get it installed 
today. I tried the doorbell, but received no answer. Is now a 
good time? I could come back later or tomorrow if you'd 
prefer."

"No. Now is fine. Why don't you go around to the garage. I'll 
raise the door for you." I gently relocked the padlock.

When the door had raised a little over half way, I ducked 
under and entered the garage. Bill, wearing shorts and a T-
shirt, approached and extended his hand for a firm shake. We 
chatted amiably as I moved to the old heater at the rear and 
began work on the repair. He was telling me that Jennifer now 
wanted an enclosed party deck, one she could use year round 
and Bill was asking for my opinions and suggestions. We 
discussed a few options and he asked if I could do the work. 
I could, but it would be July before I could do it with my 
present workload.

I am a bonafide 'Jack-of-All-Trades' and have made my living 
as an  all-around handyman and general contractor for the past 
twenty years. Bill had been one of my first customers when I'd 
started the business. My current customer 'core' numbered 
over five-hundred people, meaning any and every problem they 
had around their home, or any project they considered doing, 
I received a call. If I didn't or couldn't do what they asked, I 
always knew who they should call for good work. My 
'occasional' customer list was close to another six hundred 
people strong. Though usually working alone, I could easily 
put together a crew of up to fifteen, if needed, at any time 
and sometimes worked for other contractors when asked. 
Bill was a dyed in the wool loyal customer and I'd done a 
lot of work on his place, including building the thirty foot by 
fifty foot garage we were now in.

Finished with the repair, I made my final notations to his bill 
and a note to myself for scheduling and doing the designs for 
the proposed project. Bill disappeared into the house with the 
invoice and I, as always, approached two tarp covered cars at 
the rear of the garage, uncovering the convertible. 

The two cars were practically identical. A '76 Ford Mustang II 
coupe, and a '77 Ford Mustang II convertible. When he had 
bought them, a little before his first wife died, they'd both been 
in very rough shape. They and a sudden desire to do wood 
working had been the reason for the large garage. Bill had 
lovingly restored the bodies of both cars until they were 
practically new car perfect. The engines, suspensions and drive 
trains of both were completely restored. Both had been painted 
in a brilliant banana yellow finish that was so deep and clear you 
could almost shave using their depths. Yet, although so much 
had been done, neither was finished. 

Both were yet to have their interiors completed. Both needed 
complete reupholstery restoration and new tops. The 
convertible's top was torn in many places, and the coupe had 
a vinyl top that was cracking and splitting in many places. 
Every time I looked at those cars I was saddened that Bill 
had never completed them. 

He hadn't touched either car, nor a wood working tool since 
Jennifer had moved in. She didn't approve of such things.


Bill returned as I was recovering the car and, with sadness 
in his voice, said he was finally planning to sell them as 
they sat. "I'll never get back to them and they simply take 
up space, so they might as well go." Bill gave me twelve-
hundred dollars in cash and I marked that amount paid on his 
bill before returning it to him. His accountant would cut a 
check for the remainder and mail it to me. 

We were walking to the truck when I had a thought and asked 
what he would be asking for the cars when he sold them. He 
named a price close to their original new car sale price and 
I said it was more than I'd be willing to consider. We talked 
further and I told him about Debbie, the children and my new 
living situation. The twins would be taking driver's training 
courses this summer and I'd thought how apropos it would 
seem to give the twins two practically twin cars. We laughed 
at the joke implied by the thought and I said my good-byes 
and left.


With extra cash in my pocket, I stopped by one of the big 
chain appliance stores and bought a mid-sized television and 
video cassette player on the way home. I also stopped at the 
cable company and picked up a second decoder box. That 
took care of the twins birthday and would give them a 
television for their party - without moving mine. A stop at a 
small jewelry store, one I trusted, and I came away with a 
simple pearl necklace and a receipt for a pair of white-gold 
earrings I was having specially made for Debbie. Her birthday 
was mostly covered.

I was almost home when I remembered flowers. Luckily, there 
was a decent shop near the house and I ordered seventeen 
carnations for each of the twins, one for each year of their lives. 
I also ordered twenty-seven tulips for delivery to Debbie at 
work on her birthday, one for each year I'd known her. The 
carnations I had to take with me though, as there would be no 
delivery available on Memorial Day. They'd keep in the 
refrigerator for two days.

When I arrived home I found a note from Debbie. Everyone 
had 
gone to her brother Chuck's for the day so he could give the 
girls their birthday presents. I had the house to myself for a 
few hours. After running a cable splice and setting up the new 
television and VCR in the girls room, I decided to make the 
best of the afternoon. and started working up the plans for 
Bill's enclosed party deck.


I was still working at the computer hours later when I heard the 
front door open and close. I saved my program and was shutting 
down the computer when Debbie came up behind me wrapping 
her arms about my neck. I leaned my head back and received a 
probing kiss as her right hand began wandering into the open neck 
of my shirt. 

"Susan is staying with her Uncle Chuck until Monday Morning. He 
volunteered to watch her until after the girl's party. Guess what 
that means."

Things were starting to get interesting when there was a loud 
"Whoopee!" from the far end of the house.

Debbie started to look towards the door, but my smile stopped 
her. "Can I get a rain check on this for later? I think we are 
about to be interrupted." 

The sounds of running feet . . . the door slamming back into the 
wall . . . and the twins were there. 

Twenty minutes of thanks and confusion, explanations and 
hugs, finally, Deb and I were alone together again and I 
suddenly found myself with a very upset woman on my hands. 
She never raised her voice, but spoke in a normal tone of voice 
as she read me the riot act about spending more money on her 
and the girls "Until further notice!! You've spent enough!! Do 
You Understand?!!" 

Dinner was leftovers, prepared by the twins who kept up a non-
stop chatter about their gifts and tomorrow's party. I don't 
think they noticed that Debbie was quiet throughout, but I sure 
did. After dinner, I settled in my lounger and Debbie sat beside 
me, same as always, but we didn't cuddle or talk as we normally 
did. The atmosphere for me was a little chilly and it was a relief 
when the telephone rang and Rachel announced it was for me. 
Bringing me the cordless phone, she and Hannah retired to their 
room to watch their new television.

The phone call was from Bill . . .

"Doug, I'm going to make you a one time good deal and if you 
refuse it, I'm going to be very upset with you."

"No promises, Bill. Not until I hear the deal. What do you have 
in mind?"

"Fair enough. Here's the deal: Your remaining bill is a little 
under thirteen-hundred dollars. You forget the rest of it, and 
both of the Mustangs are yours. Both cars for the remaining 
debt. How's that sound?"

"Sounds like you've fallen off your rocker, Bill. They're worth 
more than that. You could get every penny of what you 
originally planned to ask."

"Probably. But this way I know they are going to someone 
who appreciates them as much as I do. Besides, you can use 
them and I like the thought of being able to help you this way, 
you've done so much for me in the past. What do you say?"

"Bill, How about if I return what you gave me this morning? 
I'd feel better about it."

"No, you earned all of that and more. Tell you what, consider 
it a wedding gift."

"We're not married, Bill."

"Doug, my boy, I saw the look on your face, in your eyes, 
this morning when you spoke of your lady and her daughters. 
Believe me when I say that you are married. You just don't 
know it yet." He laughed. "What about the deal?"

"My friend, you have a deal! You don't know it, but you just 
dragged me out of the doghouse and buried me under it. Still, 
you do have a deal. The offer is simply too good to pass up."

"Good. When do you want to pick them up?"

"It will be the end of next week at the earliest, Bill. I have 
to make a few arrangements first. Let's say Friday evening?"

"We will be going out of town Friday morning. Let yourself 
in through the back yard, I'll make sure the side door to the 
garage is unlocked for you. I'll put the signed titles in the 
glove compartments of each car and any extra parts I have for 
them will be in them or stacked around them when you come. 
I call this a done deal. Give that woman of yours a big 'Hi' 
from me, will ya?"

"I'll do that, Bill. You and Jennifer have a fun and safe trip. 
Good bye." 


"You spent more money on me . . . or on the girls . . . after 
promising me only hours ago that you wouldn't?"

"First, I didn't promise. You demanded, but; Yes ... No ... 
Not really, but in a way, yes."

"You can't answer with a simple yes or no?"

"Not this time, the situation is too odd." I explained to her 
about Bill and the cars. I knew the twins were already 
signed up for driver's training classes and told her my 
thoughts about matching sister's and matching cars, 
admitting it was a smart-ass idea. She grinned but continued 
to listen. I explained that I wasn't really 'buying' the cars, but 
had bartered for them, accepting them as partial payment for 
work already completed.

"The restoration of the two cars is not yet complete. Both 
need to have the interiors and upholstery completely redone. 
Every inch of wiring in those cars needs to be examined and 
replaced as necessary. I was thinking that I would make the 
girls earn the cars by helping to complete the restorations. 
Each would commit themselves to between two and four hours 
each weekend to work on the cars. It would maybe help them 
to realize the value of what they get, give them a little pride in 
their cars."

"And if I or the girls say no?"

"Then I complete the restorations myself and sell the cars. 
Once done, I should easily clear four or five times my total 
investment if I simply sell them."

"When do I get to see the cars?"

"The end of next week. The only place I have to park them are 
under the Walnut tree beside the garage. I plan to put up two 
small picnic pavilions to protect the cars. If I don't, they 
will be buried in bird poop in a week and I'd like to keep 
their paint intact. If I drape the pavilions with canvas tarps 
I . . . we . . . would be able to work on them even if it rains. 
I know where I can get a couple of used canopies for next to 
nothing in cost."

"I understand why you accepted them and I like your thinking 
about the girls helping to complete them. Maybe they'll take 
better care of them if they have to work on them. Whether it 
was cash or barter though, you had me and the kids in mind 
when you accepted the cars. If it wasn't for us, you never 
would have gotten them." I nodded when she looked at me. 
"So, you are correct, you are no longer in the dog house . . . 
you are under it! I will reserve judgment on the cars until I see 
them," she said this last as she stood and leaned to kiss me, 
biting at my chin before continuing. "I'm going to get ready for 
bed now."


In bed later, we cuddled and she hugged me close, same as 
always. She used my shoulder for a pillow, same as always. 
But there was no sex that night. 

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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