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Naughtybynature
Advanced Spanko
Username: Naughtybynature
Post Number: 116
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Friday, January 20, 2006 - 04:45 am: | 
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The Special Builder
“The place I went to see on West Forty-second?”
“Mmm-I’m lighting a cigarette…go on.”
“It turned out to be a miniature attic with a small circular window and a sloping ceiling. The kind of room you couldn’t even put a small child in. Although of course you can put a small child up in almost anything.”
“You’re not going to be single all your life, Leslie. Then you might feel different about having children.”
“I doubt it!”
“Tell me the rest. There’s obviously more, otherwise you wouldn’t be dragging this out for so long.”
“Ok…”
“I mean, of course you’re not going to find another place in midtown Manhattan, for God’s sake. You should have made Daniel move out.”
“Allie, it was his apartment!”
“Then you guys should have stayed together. It was worth it just for the location.”
“Shut up, Allie, and let me finish. So, this was the fifth apartment I’d checked out since this morning, and it was raining, and naturally there was as much chance of finding a cab as there was locating the Ark, and I find myself in the Herald Square so I jump on the Train.”
“Oh my God, you’re moving to Jersey.”
“Well, Weehawken. It’s…..”
“I know, I know, only ten minutes from town and half the rent. But you know what they say: once you move off the island you never get back on. Still, I guess it’s kind of semi-fashionable to live there now. Go on.”
“Ok, so Weehawken. Well, I was walking along a street somewhere off Washington, right down by the river, and I saw a “For Sale” notice in this window.”
“Wait, you’re going to buy?”
“I figure, why pay rent all your life? The point is, I put in an offer and it’s been accepted.”
“Can you afford it?”
Leslie laughed, “No, of course not. It’s on the second floor, above a deli, and it needs a tremendous amount of work, but it has a View. I mean, there’s just the river straight ahead, then the lights of the city are spread out before you.”
“Sounds perfect…What’s the catch?”
“No catch, at least I don’t think so. I want you to come out and see it with me before I start the alterations. You’re so good with design ideas, and you know I’ve no sense of color coordination.”
On the other end of the line, Allie sighed. “Yeah, I guess I owe it to your future boyfriends to make sure that your apartment doesn’t end up looking like you won it on Wheel of Fortune. Name a date and we’ll go check it out.”
“How about Saturday?”
“Fine by me.”
The September wind that blew across from the Hudson felt humid and unhealthy. It swirled around the old ferry buildings and down into the entrance of the subway as Allie re-buttoned her coat and left the station. She checked the address on the slip of paper and headed up along Third Street, past a clutch of smart new restaurants that characterized Weehawken’s reborn status as a desirable neighborhood. She quickly located the delicatessen near the corner and looked up at the windows above. The building itself appeared to be rather nondescript, its gray brickwork fascia blending with the slight architectural variations on either side. She looked back down in time to see her friend striding along the sidewalk toward her. As always, Leslie looked immaculate. Glossy dark hair brushed her shoulders as she turned her head and smiled. The expensively simple black suit she wore emphasized her tiny waist. She had a figure that only a dedicated career woman could afford to keep.
“I’m not late, am I?” Leslie hiked up her coat sleeve and checked her watch, revealing a slender white wrist.
“No, I was early. Looks like you’ll have all the stores you need right here.” Allie gestured along the street.
“Hey, don’t knock it.” Leslie stepped into the doorway beside the deli and searched her purse for keys. “I mean have you seen the Royale Modes Beauty Parlor two doors along? How could I ever think of getting my hair done anywhere else?” She unlocked the outer door and beckoned Allie inside.
“It still smells a little funky in here,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “The elderly lady who had the place had cats.”
A second door admitted them to a gloomy narrow hallway and a flight of gray carpeted stairs. Leslie gestured dismissively at the bare walls as they ascended.
“At the moment this is just so….hallway. Don’t look at it.”
“I guess you could brighten it up by bolting some prints to the wall.”
“Allie, this is not Manhattan, it’s a much safer neighborhood.” She had to fit three separate keys to the door locks before they could enter the apartment. “Oh sure,” said Allie, studying the burglar bolts as she passed them.
The room before them was presumably intended to be a combined sitting area and kitchen. The fading purple carpets release a pungent and unmistakable feline odor. Stained brown wallpaper revealed the shapes of recently removed paintings and light fixtures. Against the farthest wall a broken-backed sofa slumped, its corduroy covering worn smooth with use.
The two women moved into the adjoining room, turning around as they did so. The cramped kitchen alcove consisted of a mustard yellow counter and a number of cheaply finished wooden cupboards. Mouse droppings lay scattered on most of the work surfaces.
“Admittedly the place doesn’t look like it’s been cleaned since the fifties,” said Leslie, running a manicured finger along the top of a shelf.
“Hygiene Hell,” agreed Allie, moving gingerly, careful not to touch anything. “If you’re serious about this, all I can say is that you must have more design vision than I gave you credit for.”
“I have more than vision,” said Leslie. “I have a View.” She tugged on a dirty gray curtain draped across the far doorway, and there it was. A huge, spectacular room with double windows and an unspoiled view of the Hudson and the city beyond.
Any objections Allie could have raised about her friend’s planned purchase were felled at a stroke. Watery sunlight streaked the sides of the distant skyscrapers that filled the room’s horizons like a living fresco. Barges could be glimpsed passing the shoreside buildings, their horns sounding in forlorn cadence against the cried of wheeling gulls.
“Can you believe the previous owner had actually boarded over the windows?” said Leslie, pointing to a stack of planks standing in a corner.
“Why would anyone do that?” asked Allie, moving to the glass.
“I don’t know. I guess she must have been a little crazy. I believe she was very old.”
“So when did she move out?”
“She didn’t. She died. The apartment went to her nephew, but he lives in the Midwest and just wants to sell it.”
Laurie turned from the window and led the way to a far door across the room. Beyond lay a short flight of steps leading to the first of two bedrooms. Allie took a step inside and halted. The room was dark and musty with the smell of stale blankets. Here the windows were still nailed shut with sheets of plywood. Leslie reached across and switched on the overhead light, a single naked bulb that illuminated the sagging bed, an unraveled wicker chair, and an ancient, badly painted dresser.
“I think you’re going to find yourself with a lot of structural alteration on your hands.” said Allie. “Even the walls you keep will all need re-plastering. You’ll never be able to live here while it’s being fixed up.” Allie tried to avoid looking at the bed; its bare mattress stained dark, perhaps with the secretions of the elderly woman’s dying body. She looked over at Leslie, who seemed to be reading her mind.
“She didn’t die here. She was in the hospital for a long time. The bathroom’s through the hall in the far corner.”
The cheap modern tub with the cracked floor seemed almost willfully misplace in the large bathroom. A much older china sink stood against a partially tiled wall. Most of the plumbing seemed to have been connected in plain sigh, with pipes jutting from every corner.
“It’s going to cost a fortune to do it properly, you know that.”
“Look at the outlay in terms of long-term investment said Leslie. “I’ll never get another chance like this.”
“Maybe you’re right. There’s plenty of scope for renovation, I’ll say that. And the property can only go up in value.”
Leslie led the way back to the living room, passing another much smaller bedroom. “You think that’s too small for a guest room?” she asked. “Maybe it should be knocked through.”
“I don’t know. You don’t want to reduce the number of rooms too much. Suppose you decide that you want someone to live with you.”
“Oh, no,” said Leslie firmly. “I’m not living with anyone ever again. And I’m never going to get married, you know that.”
“Yeah, you say so now, but maybe in a year or two…”
“In a year or two we could all be dead.” She gestured at the walls, anxious to change the subject. “So, could it work? “What do you think?”
“What I think is the apartment’s wonderful. But you’re going to need a real professional to come in and handle the renovation from start to finish.”
“How do I find someone to do that?”
Allie smiled. “I know a special builder,” she said.
Leslie Fletcher worked for a large publishing house on the East Thirteen Street. She had been employed there as an acquisitions editor for nearly five years and in that time had lived up to her reputation as a formidably confident negotiator. Three years before, on her twenty-seventh birthday and against her better judgment, she had moved into an apartment with an advertising executive named Daniel, but her relationship with him… never once referred to by either party as a romance…. had all too quickly degenerated into a series of uncomfortable power plays.
On the surface, things had seemed perfect. If the idea of cohabiting with such a man had been presented to Leslie in the form of a business deal, she would have jumped at it.
Daniel had an inquiring mind, great plans for the future, perfect teeth, and a house in the Hamptons. Unfortunately, he also had an ego the size of his real-estate holdings and a lump of rock where his heart should have been. He was a grown man of forty-four who wanted to live with a beautiful, independent woman and still be allowed to play the field.
When the strains on the relationship started to affect Leslie’s work, she moved out. The final parting was recriminatory and messy. Now she was single again, still the subject of longing glances from colleagues and friends, still the woman whose private life remained a delicious mystery to all but a few.
Allie had known her for more years than she cared to admit. The two of them had gone to high school together, had shared more secrets. The only remaining uncharted territory of their friendship was that part concerning love and sex. Even at school, Laurie had never dated. Her academic success had been qualified by her lack of popularity with other students, most of whom had felt threatened by such a noticeably superior combination of beauty and brains. Boys had quickly christened her The Snow Queen, and she gave them no cause to reconsider the title.
In Allie’s opinion, her friend was a biological time bomb waiting to explode. Surely nobody could hold back so much for so long. Years earlier, she had forced friendship onto her frozen classmate when everyone else at school had given up trying to do so, and she had never been sorry for making the effort. Leslie, once you got to know her, was an extraordinarily kind person, a generous friend, irascible and acid-tongued at time to be sure, but always true. And although Allie considered herself to be much the less attractive pair, she never felt her personality eclipsed by Leslie. After all, hadn’t she been the one with all the dates, and wasn’t she now still enjoying a long-term romantic relationship, albeit with a married man, while Leslie dressed for success and worked late most nights?
Allie reminded herself to call Leslie and give her the telephone number of the special builder. She had never met the man personally, but her friends were unable to praise him highly enough. Last year he had apparently transformed an apartment belonging to an inspiring actress, yet his fees remained low and his daily rate was considered very reasonable. But then, of course, there were other reasons for the glowing testimonials of his clients. Smiling to herself, Allie picked up the telephone and dialed.
After half an hour of sitting in the empty apartment with a sketchpad, Leslie gave up. She stood up and smoothed out the legs of her jeans, laying the pad on the table next to a pile of crumpled up paper balls. Allie had been right. Her design intellect just wasn’t up to the task that faced her. The deal on the property had gone through quickly enough, and the deposit had now been paid. The mortgage loan had been handled with almost uncanny efficiency, and she saw no reason why the closing date should not be kept. What bothered her more was that she would have to continue staying with friends until the work on the apartment was completed, and who know just how long that would take?
She looked around the room. The day’s dying sunlight glanced from the river onto the walls in soft golden hues, investing the apartment with a hint of the grandeurs to come. She checked the ancient bakelite telephone to see if the line was still connected, then dialed the number Allie had given her that morning and asked to speak to the Special Builder.
He answered the phone himself, in a voice that was deep and meticulous, and gave the impression that he was weighing and judging each word carefully before committing it to use. The job provided marvelous scope for creativity, Leslie explained, but would have to be finished before Christmas. Could he possible come and take a look at the apartment before the weekend? He stated he could. She gave him the address and settled a time for the meeting. After she had hung up, she wrote the number for the Blaine Feller in her address book under “Special Builder.”
You going to do this properly, you are going to take it back to scratch and start again.” He ran a broad hand across the living-room wall, knocked on it with his knuckle, picked at a loose edge of wallpaper that lifted away from the plaster with alarming ease. “This right here is a support wall. I imagine you could replace it with a couple of central pillars, but for what? It’s a big apartment. Taking out the walls will make the living room look out of proportion to the rest of the place. Now you can do that if you want, but you’re going to be sorry you did.”
In the half hour since Leslie had opened the door to the builder, he had torn down every idea she had presented. A simple yes or no didn’t seem to suffice with him; there was always an adverse comment to be made. The man was downright rude.
“Sure, I can do that if you want me to, Miss, but it will look rather homely.” We can put a window in through there, but I’m advising you it will look kind of stupid.” We can put a window in, as if he and Leslie were buying the apartment together. She stepped back against the far wall with her arms folded across her chest and watched as he lumbered between the rooms, digging into the plaster with the end of a metal ruler, stooping to pry up a broken section of floorboard. He was well over six feet tall, broad-chested and ugly-handsome, clad in boots and worn jeans, dark hair curling from the neck of his flannel shirt. When he passed her, he trailed a smell of musk and sweat.
“Come in here a minute.” He was calling to her from the main bedroom, as familiar as if they were newlyweds. Well, she would quickly put a stop to this.
“Mr. Feller,” she began in her coldest business voice, “let’s get one thing straight around here.” She walked to the doorway and waited for him to stand and look at her.
“Please call me Blaine.” He said, turning slowly and rising to his full height. “All my good friends do. And as it looks like this job is going to take some time to achieve perfection. I feel we are going to become good friends.” Then he smiled a dangerous white smile that squared his jaw and ran from one side to the other of his face. Leslie stopped in her tracks, suddenly aware that she was alone in the apartment with a complete stranger.
“I suppose you’re right,” she said in a careful, clear voice. “Although, as I’ll be staying with friends in Manhattan until the work is completed, I don’t suppose we will be meeting very often.” She gestured at the bedroom walls. “I would like you to submit plans within ten working days, together with a quote for your time, building materials, and so forth.”
“Now wait just a minute,” said the builder, raising a broad palm. “I haven’t said I would take the job yet.” He wandered from the room, leaving Leslie to fume at the man’s arrogance. Who the hell did he think he was? Ok, so he did a good job of some hot-shot actress’s apartment, but that didn’t make him Andy Warhol. If he was so great, how come his prices were so low? She stormed after him and was about to deliver a frank speech on male arrogance when he strode out of the bathroom, almost bumping into her, and said, “I’ll do it.” And that was the end of that.
Or rather, the beginning…
Because two weeks later Blaine Feller delivered his plans and his estimate, and another argument developed between them.
Did is a word of achievement, Won't is a word of retreat, Might is a word of bereavement, Can't is a word of defeat, Ought is a word of duty, Try is a word of each hour, Will is a word of beauty, Can is a word of power.
*(Unknown Author)
Don't take life so seriously.....it isn't permanent
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Ziggy
Supreme Spanko
Username: Ziggy
Post Number: 2170
Registered: 08-2005
| | Posted on Friday, January 20, 2006 - 08:51 am: |
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it is great so far. I can't wait for the rest.
when caught run faster then him !!
I am a TA junkie !!
HUBBIE IS HOME !! HAVING A GOOD TIME !! LOVING EVERY MINTUE OF ALSO
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Reader_girl
New member
Username: Reader_girl
Post Number: 41
Registered: 07-2005
| | Posted on Saturday, January 21, 2006 - 10:12 am: |
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Naughty! This is great! You are a wonderful writer. When do we get the next installment?!
Reader Girl
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Smartnnaughty
Advanced Spanko
Username: Smartnnaughty
Post Number: 323
Registered: 05-2005
| | Posted on Saturday, January 21, 2006 - 11:21 am: |
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Naughty,
This situation could prove quite interesting. I, too, will await the next installment. Please don't keep us waiting too long.
SNN
I try to take one day at a time -- but sometimes several days attack me at once.
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Hunny
Advanced Spanko
Username: Hunny
Post Number: 1389
Registered: 10-2005
| | Posted on Saturday, January 21, 2006 - 01:04 pm: |
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Great story! Can't wait to read the rest!
I'm just a little angel...sometimes!
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Wolfie
Moderator/Spanking Aficionado
Username: Wolfie
Post Number: 1119
Registered: 04-2005
| | Posted on Saturday, January 21, 2006 - 06:59 pm: |
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Love it, love it love it!
If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.
Grow old with me, the best is yet to be.
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Blistering_blonde
New member
Username: Blistering_blonde
Post Number: 23
Registered: 10-2005
| | Posted on Saturday, March 04, 2006 - 05:50 pm: |
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HEHE ohhhh i can not wait to see THIS story play out |
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