After opening the door he couldn't think of anything better to say. "Hello, and you are?"
"Bob. From Bob & Bob's Plumbing." She made a show of patting the front of herself down. "I don't have a card on me, but if you'd like to check my credentials there's a big blue van parked by the curb. The company name's written on it in foot tall letters."
Indeed there was such a vehicle, but he was no less baffled. He had taken a half day so he could be home when the plumber arrived, something that had taken days to orchestrate, and not for a fraction of a second had he expected this. His brain felt soupy in her presence. He managed weakly, "Bob?"
"Roberta," she grimaced. "Don't call me that though. Look. Are you going to invite me in? I've got a work-order here for this address an' I'd love to stand out here all day since I charge by the hour, but it's a wee bit nippy out."
"Uh, sure." The chill Spring weather had indeed elicited a response, one he could read like braille when she brushed past him in the cramped entryway. Was this happening? Was it real or some practical joke? Who did he know in town that would arrange a stripper dressed as a tradesman to visit his house? Since when were plumbers supposed to be sexy? Hmm, since right about now o'clock.
Sadly, the exotic dancer in disguise scenario was getting less and less likely. Bob had made camp in his kitchen, arraying the tools she might need on the floor by the sink cabinet. Then she got to work. Previously she had been professional bordering on icy, but being amongst the pipe assemblies improved her mood dramatically. While unhooking the garbage disposal she even began volunteering personal information.
"Yup, been doing this since I was eight. In the summers my dad would bring me along so I could get my hands dirty- start learning the trade. I don't think he banked on having four daughters. Eventually he settled on me to pass on the family business. Can't think of doing anything else. It's good money, honest work. Some of my high school friends scoffed, but right about now they're all unemployed. The economy can get bad, but drains will still clog and old pipes will bust. I do OK. Half the stuff is easy things people just don't wanna bother with cuz they're a little gross. I've driven out in the middle of the night to plunge a toilet. Just this morning I yanked a dead rat out of a bathtub, scaly tail hangin' out like a chain on a drain plug. One pull and I bill seventy-five dollars, with the owner glad to pay. Other stuff's trickier. Made a hell of a mess earlier. My shirt's in the van in a plastic bag, smellin' all kinds of awful. So I'm sorry about showin' up at your door like this. You probably got the wrong idea."
He wasn't in a terrible hurry to admit that was the truth. Instead he offered to throw her shirt in the washer.
Bob wiggled her hips as her knees scooted backwards along the floor and came out from underneath the sink and looked at him with arched eyebrows, trying to detect sincerity. When she found it she smiled and hid her blush by ducking her head into the cabinet like a turtle retreating into the safety of its shell. "That's kind of you. But I'm on the clock, and you'd regret offering once you saw the bill."
This pic has given me so many ideas... I love this pic, it shows girls aren't afraid to get down and dirty (literally not sexually) along the same vein as the Tig'Ol wrench wench.
But it's given me ideas for many other "blue collar" women... a truck driver girl, or even a miner?
One of the few cases where heading on your plumber is deemed acceptable behavior...definitely wanted to see her low cut pants though. Well maybe one of her sisters...
"Bob. From Bob & Bob's Plumbing." She made a show of patting the front of herself down. "I don't have a card on me, but if you'd like to check my credentials there's a big blue van parked by the curb. The company name's written on it in foot tall letters."
Indeed there was such a vehicle, but he was no less baffled. He had taken a half day so he could be home when the plumber arrived, something that had taken days to orchestrate, and not for a fraction of a second had he expected this. His brain felt soupy in her presence. He managed weakly, "Bob?"
"Roberta," she grimaced. "Don't call me that though. Look. Are you going to invite me in? I've got a work-order here for this address an' I'd love to stand out here all day since I charge by the hour, but it's a wee bit nippy out."
"Uh, sure." The chill Spring weather had indeed elicited a response, one he could read like braille when she brushed past him in the cramped entryway. Was this happening? Was it real or some practical joke? Who did he know in town that would arrange a stripper dressed as a tradesman to visit his house? Since when were plumbers supposed to be sexy? Hmm, since right about now o'clock.
Sadly, the exotic dancer in disguise scenario was getting less and less likely. Bob had made camp in his kitchen, arraying the tools she might need on the floor by the sink cabinet. Then she got to work. Previously she had been professional bordering on icy, but being amongst the pipe assemblies improved her mood dramatically. While unhooking the garbage disposal she even began volunteering personal information.
"Yup, been doing this since I was eight. In the summers my dad would bring me along so I could get my hands dirty- start learning the trade. I don't think he banked on having four daughters. Eventually he settled on me to pass on the family business. Can't think of doing anything else. It's good money, honest work. Some of my high school friends scoffed, but right about now they're all unemployed. The economy can get bad, but drains will still clog and old pipes will bust. I do OK. Half the stuff is easy things people just don't wanna bother with cuz they're a little gross. I've driven out in the middle of the night to plunge a toilet. Just this morning I yanked a dead rat out of a bathtub, scaly tail hangin' out like a chain on a drain plug. One pull and I bill seventy-five dollars, with the owner glad to pay. Other stuff's trickier. Made a hell of a mess earlier. My shirt's in the van in a plastic bag, smellin' all kinds of awful. So I'm sorry about showin' up at your door like this. You probably got the wrong idea."
He wasn't in a terrible hurry to admit that was the truth. Instead he offered to throw her shirt in the washer.
Bob wiggled her hips as her knees scooted backwards along the floor and came out from underneath the sink and looked at him with arched eyebrows, trying to detect sincerity. When she found it she smiled and hid her blush by ducking her head into the cabinet like a turtle retreating into the safety of its shell. "That's kind of you. But I'm on the clock, and you'd regret offering once you saw the bill."