The Fowler and His Net -- Prologue - Sex Stories

The Fowler and His Net -- Prologue

... relative closeness. It was a situation he had experienced all of his life. Even as a teenager, he had garnered trust with his handsome baby-face and had taken full advantage of that. Nine years in the army had taken that edge away however, but it had been supplanted by physical confidence and a physique that more than made up for the loss. It was an important feature of his plan that Mrs. Barton be interested in that physique.

She looked down at the new tiling and pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘It is lovely work Mr. Fowler.'

‘Aye, me Dad ‘ad me working when I were a little lad Mrs. Barton,' Gary replied. ‘He always needed an 'and.' His explanation was a partial truth. The partial mistruth was that the work was tiling.

Mrs. Barton smiled condescendingly at his dialect and seemed thoughtful in her reply. ‘It must be so comforting to have a child who shows such diligence.'

Gary laughed. ‘Aye, but he’d give us a right bloody belt if he found us slacking.'

Mrs. Barton ruminated on the work he had done, tactfully ignoring his joke. ‘These new tiles though,' her eyes switched quickly between the newly laid ceramic and Gary’s newly exposed torso. ‘don’t you think they rather overwhelm the old ones?’

Gary nodded, the plan may have diverted a little here, but he sensed an opportunity. ‘I guess, aye,' he replied, ‘tough to distress tiles it is. Have to wait till they all weather in, wit’ the sun and frost and that.'

‘Oh no. We can’t have that. I have important ...

... guests at the beginning of the month. I think we have to replace all of them.'

Gary scratched his chin and looked around the pool. A thirty by eighteen-foot pool, with twelve-inch tiles. He, his mate and two apprentices could have the work done in the matter of a day. That wouldn’t do. He had to think quickly. ‘Aye, problem is we ain’t got the blokes right now, they’re all off on a big job in town. I’d have to get it done round that. By me sen’ like.'

Mrs. Barton seemed far from disappointed by this. ‘I see, mmm. Well, when you’ve tidied up, pop over to the house and we’ll talk business.' At this, Mrs. Barton span around and flounced her way back toward the French windows. Gary gazed intently at her backside as she walked. It pivoted in a lithe and sumptuous dance, like a small beam engine.

‘Aye' he thought, ‘A right cracker, a bit too much make-up for me likin’’ but she could be just the ticket.'

These deep musings were distracted by a shuffle in the curtains in one of the upstairs bedrooms. He stared intently hoping for more information, but the curtain remained still. ‘Well now. Who is that then?’ he whispered to himself.

Thirty minutes later and he was in the large and impressive kitchen.

‘Aye, well by mesen’ it’ll be two foot an ‘our. So, I reckon if I get, like, three hour done a day it’ll take a couple of weeks to get round it, like.'

Mrs. Barton looked pleased with this arrangement. ‘You will have to work so hard; I am so grateful to you.'

In truth, ...