Light My Way

[Harlequin]

"Good taste," She commented, with a nod toward the lights he\'d been inspecting.

She already had a cart when she showed up, stocked with a few miscellaneous hardware items, and about eight packs of one-hundred globe-shaped christmas lights.

"Very understated, I like it." She already knew that the fixtures were astronomically far out of her price range, and sincerely hoped that he was picking up the tab straight up on this one, instead of having her write it into her bill.

"Thinking of replacing that horrifying chandelier?" She asked, contented smile firmly in place, "Because with those," She nodded  toward the disply again, "You could do away with central lighting entirely, which could be nice. Open up the space a little bit."

All the things she\'d run home to get were currently waiting in her own beat-up pick up truck in the parking lot. The truck was reserved mostly for work, as she preffered walking – but she\'d found out the haard way that people didn\'t believe you were actually the person they\'d called unless you had some kind of masculine vehicle that said in plain writing that you were.

Also, she\'d changed into a different pair of jeans, and a new shirt. The jeans still had holes in the knees (all of her jeans did), but were intact aside from that, and the collar and sleeves of the red T-shirt had been torn off, leaving a ragged edge at her neck and shoulders.
 

[Existentially Odd]

"Thanks," he grinned, sauntering over and inspecting what she had in her trolley with mild interest before looking back at her. "Changed into something a little more comfortable, did you?" he grinned, fingering the ragged edging of the shirt near her throat, the backs of his fingers brushing inadvertently against her warm skin.  Well, as inadvertently as he could make it appear.  His hand dropped when he realised that she\'d probably changed so she\'d feel more comfortable working through the night on his house and he wasn\'t supporting that professionalism very well.  He cleared his throat, looking somewhat apologetic.

"Absofuckinglutely.  That light is hideous - they all are, really - and if you think these are good, should we get a set for every room in the house?  I should talk to a salesperson about getting that many all at once though, shouldn\'t I?  They might need to order some in," he murmured, looking around, as if someone would appear instantly by his side.

[Harlequin]

A brow raised as he touched her with that cold skin, showing a hint of the old familiarity, but she smiled indulgently when he pulled away, and let it be.

"I\'ll take care of that part," She said easily, "We just have to convince them that I\'m actually your contractor, so that they try to shove some of their Union workers down your throat for the installation." She made a face. She had all of her credentials with her, of course, but dealing with these big chain stores was still a pain.
 

[Existentially Odd]

He smiled appreciatively at her, tipping two fingers from his forehead in a mock salute.  "Alright ma\'am.  I will leave it all in your capable hands.  You just tell me what you want carried or paid for - and don\'t forget, the sky\'s the limit when it comes to expense.  If you think it\'ll look good, we buy it.  I\'ll be right by your side every step of the way."

True to his word, he moved behind her, as if interested in following her lead entirely.  His cheeky grin faded somewhat when he realised she had different jeans on - a fact that hadn\'t stood out to him as immediately apparent when she\'d approached behind the trolley - but he stayed true to his position.  She was the master, he the willing... helper.

[Harlequin]

The first thing she did was to bend down over the display, and write down the appropriate product number on a pad she\'d pulled from a back pocket, with a pen stuck through the spiral binding.

Straightening, she turned to him again, "What might happen, is that our friends here at the Home Despot might not be too keen on letting us have the equipment without having us sign up for various maintenance plans, since this sort of set up is much more complicated than installing a ceiling fan or a chandelier.  To get around that, we may have to go through the manufacturer."

Pausing, she looked at the display, lips pursed in a thoughtful manner, "You know, that might actually be easier, and cheaper. We wouldn\'t have to deal with the store\'s corporate procedures and all that. Probably faster as well, since we won\'t have to wait for the store to order the parts." She nodded, and then let her gaze slide back to his face, "Sounds good, or would you rather go through the rigamarole?" She tapped a fingertip against the open page of the notebook, head canted to one side.

[Existentially Odd]

He nodded, stepping around so that he was able to face her a bit better and she would be able to see the gesture.  "Sure, whatever you think is best.  Do you think we\'ll be able to go to the manufacturer tonight or will you have to do that tomorrow?  I\'m... well, as I said, I\'m open to the whole thing taking as long as it takes and you doing as much or as little work as you like by night - for as many nights as we need - but I\'m not available through the days.  Nor is the house."

He considered telling her the truth right then and there, but wasn\'t sure why.  Perhaps it was because she took everything else he\'d said with such calm and poise, that he didn\'t feel she\'d be overly ruffled to learn that he was a vampire.  Still, it was against the Oligarchy\'s rules and he wasn\'t keen for trouble (for once in his existence) just when he was setting himself up.  He was certain she wouldn\'t question him anyway; it wasn\'t her style (but that was exactly why he wanted to tell, too, he supposed).  He gave her a vague smile.

[Harlequin]

"I\'ll call early tomorrow," she said, "They\'ll be delivered to my apartment within a week. We should go back to your house for tonight, though, so I can take measurements and things. maybe get a start on the windows." She smiled vaguely right back – but then, her smiles were almost always vague, "I\'ll have them send you the bill, when the parts arrive," she added, as an afterthought.

"Alright. Let me just pay for these things," She gestured to the cart, "And we can be on our way. Sound good?"

[Existentially Odd]

"No, no," he answered abruptly.  "That doesn\'t sound fine - I\'ll be paying for everything," he insisted and promptly shoved his helmet at her chest while wrenching the trolley from her grasp.  She took what she was offered and he strode determinedly to the cash registers to pay - as if she might chase him down and try to pay herself.

Naturally, she just sauntered along behind him, so that everything was organised into bags by the time she got there.  He was aware that they hadn\'t negotiated pay rates for her time and labour yet, and resolved to do so when they got back to the house.  She pointed out her vehicle when they walked out into the cool night air (he wasn\'t very impressed with it) and he loaded all their current purchases into it, then reclaimed his helmet.  With a promise to meet her at his residence, he wheeled the trolley into a return bay, put the protective item on his head and roared out of the car park, unperturbed that she\'d driven out ahead of him.  He overtook her in no time and was at the house in plenty of time to park the bike, put his gear away and meet her in the driveway to bring everything in.

Not knowing what else to do with it, he set it all in the middle of the lounge room floor then prepared to get comfortable watching her do her thing.  He closed the front door then sat beside all the bags, long legs splayed comfortably.  "You\'re very efficient," he told her conversationally, "just how much money am I going to be paying you to do all this for me?"  A truly wicked thought then occurred to him, curling his lips into a broad grin.  "Perhaps I could pay you in orgasms?  It became part of the currency last time we met," he winked.

[Harlequin]

She followed him at her own sedate pace through all this, secretly amused at the somewhat childish nature of his insistence on doing everything. Of course, she let him, never one to turn down a decent offer. Usually, she accepted what people deigned to give her for her work, unless it was below a livable wage.

When everything was in the lounge, and he spoke to her in that old familiar way, she turned her gaze from the ceiling to his face, brow raised slightly, hands on hips. "Last time, your mistress was paying me in the cold hard stuff, and orgasms, though delicious, don\'t put food in my belly." she spoke frankly and honestly, hoping to squash any hopes he might have had about their having a second such encounter, "And, as I said, i\'ll have them bill you for the parts, and for the amount of time this will take – the going rate is thirteen dollars an hour." As she said this, her gaze returned to the ceiling, then, nodding, went to the floor, "Hmm, now if I were my stepladder, where would I be?" this was said in an undertone as her bicolored eyes searched  through the things on the floor, and then finally located the rickety wooden stepladder, kneeling to pick it up.

"Could you grab the tape measure from my toolbox, please?" She requested, considering the matter from before officially closed.

[Existentially Odd]

He did as she requested, waiting until she was up said stepladder before he continued his line of conversation.  He appreciated the fact that she\'d shut him down pretty damn efficiently, but didn\'t see why their relationship had to be so strictly professional.  Surely there were times when they coud enjoy themselves as well as completing the work?  The sight of her ass wriggling before him only confirmed that desire.

"I\'ll pay you twenty an hour and give you a food allowance if you like.  Of course, if it\'s a matter of your girlfriend objecting to me giving you the orgasms... " he trailed off airily, deliberately alluding to the fact that he believed she was a closet heterosexual (when the mood struck her) as he moved so that he was able to look up into her pretty face.

[Harlequin]

Reaching up with the tape measure as he spoke, she measured out a distance around a light fixture, and then wrote it on her pad, which she steadied against the wall. "I don\'t need an allowance," she said, laughing slightly, "Unless you plan on building an apartment above the garage and keeping me around all the time." She looked down at him, however, at the second part of his little speech.

"Girlfriend?" she asked mildly, shaking her head "I don\'t have a girlfriend." Then, she remembered the last time they had gotten together, recalling that their rendezvous had been cut short by a cell phone call, "Oh! Are you referring to the woman I was speaking to on the phone, last time?" she laughed again, finding this simply hilarious, "She\'s not my girlfriend. She\'s my roommate."

[Existentially Odd]

He stared at her in surprise, a blink the only movement he was able to make,for a moment.  "You mean... you speak like that... and say that you love her... to your roommate?  Not your lesbian lover?" he stated bluntly, unable to believe he\'d got it so wrong and not willing to let it go so quickly.

It had been a delightful fantasy he\'d concocted for himself - one where he was the man that was so irresistable, he could persuade homosexual women into bed with him at the drop of a hat (or a greeting without clothes on, as it were).  Where the possibility of having two women in that bed at once was well within his grasp, because the one he\'d already fucked would tell the other that he was worth sacrificing her love of pussy for, just for a romp and a ride.  A delightful fantasy, indeed.

[Harlequin]

"Of course," she said, reaching up to the ceiling again. She was awre of the fact that, from his heaight and where he was standing, her breasts were just about level with Tom\'s eyes. She didn\'t particualraly care, at this juncture, as long as let her work. "She\'s my best friend, as well. We\'ve known each other since we were children, and I do love her. Very much."

She went to write down another measurement, but found Tom\'s face in the way of the wall. Looking down into those eyes from her vantage point on the stepladder, she smiled gently, and let her arms drift to her sides. "It\'s how I address most of my close friends." Her friends were a generally tactile group, anyway, always holding hands or giving each other kisses on the cheek or hugging or laying about in a pile on the grass, or any manner of touching, completely oblivious to the judgement of those who bore witness.

[Existentially Odd]

"Ahh," he said wisely, "it must be a girl thing, then.  Only thing I refer to my buddies as would be fuckwad or dickhead, with any regularity."  He laughed, because he thought that it was a very amusing comparison, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he looked her over thoughtfully.  "So you\'re not a lesbian?  At all?"

He couldn\'t help but allow a little tinge of disappointment into his voice, just because he\'d always enjoyed the challenge of keeping two women going at once (anything above two he\'d found superfluous and vowed not to do again, three was definitely the right amount), and getting Nimm going at all was proving far more difficult than previous experience would have led him to hypothesise.  He couldn\'t quite figure how this serene creature had ever allowed herself to be caught quivering and panting beneath him as her orgasm ripped through her lovely body last time.  She had handled it with great aplomb, he supposed; she must simply have been horny then and was just... not interested now.  Unless she was one of those people that had very strict working relationship guidelines - never sleep with a colleague, never date your boss kind of thing.  He imagined she could be the type.

[Harlequin]

Nimm shrugged again, flattening the pad against her opposite palm and writing down her most recent measurement, since he hadn\'t moved. "I prefer not to box myself in, sexually, with labels likr that. If I\'m attracted to someone, I\'m attracted to them. it doesn\'t particularly matter to me if their reproductive organs are on the outside or the inside." Always happy to make conversation about whatever topic was broached, she and answered every question honestly and without predjudice.

"I think that\'s a guy thing, with the name-calling," she said, looking at his face again, a pensive look in her bicolored eyes. Her left hand slowly brought her pen up to tap her lower lip, in thought, "Though, I\'ve heard groups of young women use derogatory terms with each other, which perplexes me."