“Maybe,” I said, not wanting to reveal anything. I finally loosened the bolt holding the old sink, releasing a fine mist of dust onto my face.
“Are you okay?” she said as I batted the dust away.
“Oh, you know,” I said, “unexpected mess on my face.”
“I know the feeling,” she said, laughing. Her hand moved up my knee. I removed the bolt and scooted out of the sink. She sat up next to me as I wiped more dust off my face.
“I’m going to need another shower,” I said. We pulled off the old sink and installed the new one. She helped me by holding it in place as I tightened the new bolts. She kept pressing her tits onto me, getting me hard again. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it.
“Any leaks?” she said.
“No, nothing.” I replied. I test the faucets, and started cleaning up the tools when her phone rang.
“I have to check,” she pleaded.
“It might be the job,” I said. “Get it.”
She took her phone and I sat on the edge of the bed. My phone buzzed again and I took it out of my pocket. It was a text from Mom, just a picture of her tits in the mirror, a work bathroom picture to keep me aroused. It was no different than her parents and their film camera. Jen was finishing her phone call, and I stashed my phone and walked over to her.
“Yes, that works. I’ll check and get right back to you. Thank you,” she said curtly. She hung up, setting her phone on the counter. I stood behind her in the mirror, trying to read her expression.
“I got the job,” she said to my reflection. She was beaming. She turned around and hugged me. She practically leapt into my arms, and we fell backward against the wall.
“Congratulations,” I said, kissing her.
“Let’s celebrate,” she said. “Let’s go to the beach.” She kissed me again, and sent me to my room to get ready. Minutes later I met her at the stairs. She wore a tiny, yellow bikini that was very low cut. We walked to my car, and I saw about an inch of her ass crack was visible. She kept looking her shoulder as we walked through the house. As we drove to the beach, we talked about her job.
“I start August 15th for training and development workshops,” she said as I drove. She was drumming on her knees, her feet on the dashboard. “I can’t believe I got it.”
“I can,” I said. She smiled at me, and closed her eyes and let the wind whip through her hair. We pulled up at the beach approach and set up a blanket away from everyone else. It was a weekday, and the beach was not crowded but it wasn’t deserted, either. She put sunblock on her arms, chest, and legs, but then lay on her stomach and handed me the bottle.
“Get to work,” she teased. I spread sunblock on her back, and the back of her legs. She parted her legs and I rubbed as close as I dared in broad daylight. No one was watching us, but we had to be careful.
I sat next to her, rubbing her inner thighs, looking left and right. “Can you move so your head is pointed to the water?” I asked.
“Why?” she said.
“Trust me,” I replied. She shifted, turning her whole body about a quarter turn. I picked up my book, holding it in one hand while my other hand slipped between her thighs.