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BAG BOY

CHAPTER 7

Cougarcougarcougarcougarcougarcougarcougarcougarcougar

You could say lots of unflattering things about my ex, and most of them would be true, but the man happened to be a genius with a tool belt. Since the day I discovered a pair of crotchless panties—not mine—in Jake's tuxedo pocket, my house has never seen as competent a handyman. If only he'd shown as much care with our marriage as he had with all the shit that broke in our house, we might still be together, and I wouldn't have a list a mile long of projects that needed doing: water-stained ceiling tiles that needed replacing, paint touch-ups requiring a ladder and a level of patience I'd never possess, scratched wood floors, burnt-out bulbs, and the cracked vanity mirror that weighed too much for me to take down by myself. I would hire a carpenter eventually, probably, someday . . .

Okay, perhaps I'd allowed myself to grow somewhat emotional over my punch list. Maybe, just maybe, I don't like to admit there are things I can't do myself—or so said my therapist last time I checked in with her, many years ago. Wouldn't she be surprised to learn where I was about to turn for help after all this time: the bag boy at my local organic grocer, a slightly lost millennial who wasn't quite ready to take his life seriously. Oh, yes, she'd have a field day with my growing obsession over this one.

Pushing aside all rational, non-self-destructive thoughts that might get in my way, I called in my delivery order.

Bagboybagboybagboybagboybagboybagboybagboybagboy

Four dozen light bulbs.

That was quite the shopping list for a high-end organic grocery store. If my boss hadn't relayed the delivery request directly to my face, I might have spared Bella the store's outrageous markup and picked up what she needed at the hardware store. As it was, she cleaned us out of 75-watt, recessed halogens.

Lining up all the bags on her front stoop, I had a feeling I'd be here a while. I wasn't sure if that was good news or bad news for my dick. Either way, he was all in. Two days into this little challenge, and I could've pressed that doorbell button with my boner. Would she answer the door in the blue kimono again? I wasn't even sure if I was rooting for or against that, but as usual, it didn't matter what I wanted.

Today's outfit was a knee-length, gauzy, white sundress, more garden party than slumber party. With the gold cuff clasped around her upper arm and the leather straps of her sandals winding up her calves like a pair of boa constrictors, she looked like a goddess—the ancient type, not the slutty Xena version. But then, the afternoon was young.

"Hope you didn't hit any bumps on the way over," she said, opening the door for me and stepping out of the way while I dragged all the bags inside. "I can't help but notice you've got a heavy foot on the gas pedal."

Yeah, I drove here like a bat outta hell. Sue me.

"I'd be happy to check the lightbulbs for breakage, if you like," I told her, all cool and nonchalant.

A smile started in her eyes and made its way to her juicy lips. "I do have a few bulbs that need changing, if you're up for an installation?"

Hell yes, I was up for an installation, had been since her teasing in the parking lot two days ago. "Always happy to provide excellent customer service."

She nodded. "Can I pour you a soft drink while you change?"

"Oh, I didn't bring anything to change into," I said, kicking myself. Could I have gotten away with jeans and a T-shirt? "But a Coke would be great if you have it, thanks."

"No need to change into anything. You can just take off your shirt and tie. How's black cherry seltzer?" She didn't miss a beat after issuing what was clearly an order.

No matter how prepared I thought I was to see her each time, Bella always managed to make me feel like the rug had just been yanked out from under me. I suppose I should've been grateful she let me keep the pants on . . . for now, anyway.

"Sure, that's fine," I answered to both the drink and the order.

"Terrific!" She clapped her hands together and headed for the kitchen.

Having the strong sense she wanted my shirt off when she returned, I tugged hard at the knot at my throat and worked open enough buttons to pull everything over my head. I draped my discarded clothing over the back of one of her fancy chairs, but it just looked weird and wrong—as weird and wrong as standing in the woman's fancy living room with my shirt off for no damn reason, but I tried not to dwell on such matters. In the last seconds before she appeared again, I snapped up the shirt and tie and threw both over my arm.

Handing me the glass, she held out her other hand. "I'll hang those up for you." Again, not a request.

I traded my shirt and tie for the drink, earning an appreciative leer that sharpened my nipples. I watched as she walked to the coat closet and arranged my clothes around a hanger.

"I'll pick up some Coke for you next time I'm at the store," she said.

I couldn't help the idiotic grin that sprouted on my face or my blush when she turned around and caught me wearing it. Such a simple thing, offering to have my favorite drink available, made me unreasonably happy. I couldn't help it.

Even in my embarrassment, I spotted something in her expression, a rare flicker of vulnerability. It was a bottle of Coke, not the top drawer of her bureau, but still . . . had she given more than she'd meant to? I stashed that little nugget away for later, when I would have more time to roll it around.

"So . . . are you ready to light up my life?" she asked a moment later. Bella was back in the saddle, tightening the reins, which, I supposed, made me her horse. I was more than fine with that.

"Absolutely." Yippee ki yay, motherfucker!

She picked up one bag in each hand, and I finished my drink and grabbed the rest. I followed her to a set of stairs leading to her basement and flipped the wall switch. Not surprisingly, only a few bulbs came on. There was just enough light on the steps that we didn't both end up at the bottom in a tangled heap.

Bella let out a huff as we cleared the final steps. "I guess I've let things go a bit down here."

You could say that. Of the recessed lights that ran every couple of feet throughout the massive space, I counted four bulbs that still worked. Even so, the space was every teenage boy's wet dream, not even counting Bella. Two arcade games, ping-pong and pool tables, foosball, and a sprawling home theater with six cushy recliners lined up in a row . . . I could happily live down here forever.

"This looks like a great spot," I said. "I mean, it seems like it might be, if I could see anything."

She shrugged. Eh, I could see where a lady like Bella might not have a lot of use for these games. She seemed to prefer the type with human playing pieces she could move around the board. I wondered why she'd even bothered asking me to fix the lights.

"There's a ladder in the closet over there. I wish I could offer you more light, but . . ." She trailed off with a smile.

"No problem. Should be cake compared to the fluorescents at the store."

"I'll leave you to it, then."

I thought she might head back upstairs, but she settled into one of the chairs in the theater area and started clicking through the on-demand menus, not that I was watching her or anything.

I located the ladder and set up camp by the nearest working bulb. It took a bit of muscle to loosen the spent bulbs, making me wonder if the person who screwed them all in was my cub predecessor, a hired hand, the ex, or what. After I got into a rhythm, the work went quickly. Soon, I'd replaced the first dozen bulbs. I rewarded myself with a trip to the bathroom, returning to find Bella carrying a tray of food to the theater.

"Come take a break," she said.

"Sure, thanks." I slipped around the back wall and inside the cozy space. Frozen on the giant screen was an image of a naked man, gagged, ankles bound with rope to the legs of the plain wooden chair he was sitting on, his wrists bound behind the seat of the chair. Erection raging.

The kind of stuff any normal person might have been watching with company in the house.

My dick woke right up.

"Have a seat," Bella offered, patting the leather seat next to hers. "Hummus?"

She pushed play as I reached for a carrot stick, and into the dimly lit scene walked a woman clearly outfitted to make the man's next two hours a misery. Her killer body perfectly filled out a sexy, black leather corset, while her long, straight, brown hair spilled down her back. Her resemblance to Bella made me do a double take. For a second I panicked, wondering if we were watching some kind of creepy home movie I might soon be starring in. Slapping a riding crop against the palm of her hand, the woman strode across the concrete floor in spike-heeled, thigh-high leather boots toward her bound victim.

I had a million questions. How long had this man been tied up? What had she already done to him? Was she going to help him out with that huge problem of his? Why exactly were we watching this?

I dared not look directly at Bella, but I strained my peripheral vision to catch the smile on her face. My breath caught in my throat. If Bella had a plan to copy this woman's behavior, I was in a shit ton of trouble . . . and I could hardly wait to get started.

The riding crop touched down on the man's thigh. He let out a moan. Movie-Bella enjoyed that. She landed her crop on his other thigh, another moan rolled out of him, another big smile from the domme on the screen and the cougar next to me. My dick plumped into an uncomfortable bend I desperately needed to straighten out but there was no way I could touch myself without being obvious, so I did the only thing I could do: I reached for a celery stick instead.

The domme on the screen was talking to her victim, taunting him. "You want me to touch you, hmm? Is that what you want?" He nodded vigorously, the poor son of a bitch.

Movie-domme crouched in front of the chair and took both of his nipples between her fingers and squeezed. His eyes grew wide as he let out a muffled yelp. Bella turned her head and stared at my bare chest as if mentally mapping out her moves. A chill wriggled down my spine.

Bella's voice startled me. "Another carrot?"

"Uh, no thanks."

She shrugged, then took a carrot for herself, dragged it through the hummus, and set it seductively between her lips.

Movie-domme dipped her head to her victim's lap and swirled her tongue around his tip. His groan went straight to my aching groin. I shifted in my chair, but it was no use. I had no choice but to sit right there and keep my eyes on the screen as the blowjob deepened.

I felt Bella's warm hand on my thigh and turned toward it. "Oh dear," Bella said, feigning innocence, "this must be really hard for you to watch," she said.

"Yes," I croaked, sounding very much like the gagged man tied to the chair.

Bella aimed the remote at the screen and hit the pause button, freezing the image of the penis sliding into the woman's throat, an image I wouldn't get out of my head for two days.

"How insensitive of me. I'm sorry, Edward. Maybe I should let you get back to work?"

I thanked her and stood with much difficulty. I attempted a graceful exit while she watched me with an angelic smile on her face.

I don't know how I didn't break every bulb in the house after that. She turned up the volume so I would hear the man's needy moans for the next half hour. I could tell when the domme switched to fondling him with her hands, as her merciless taunting increased now that her mouth was free. I couldn't hear the exact words, but I didn't need to. I could hear the slurry squelch of lube against skin, could practically feel the heavenly slide of her fist along my own aching shaft. She brought him to the edge of his release each time, then left him groaning with frustration. Each time she denied him, her cruel laughter followed. That shit was making me horny as fuck.

I could picture his painfully hard cock, left hanging at the edge of madness, punching into the air, begging for friction, just a little bit more to get him off . . . and I imagined Bella's cruel grin, taking notes so she didn't miss a trick when it was my turn.

My turn. Two days from now. If my balls lasted that long.

When the movie man finally shouted, "I'm coming!" for the last time, I nearly bust my nut at the top of the ladder, my hands wrapped around a hot, lit bulb in its socket.

Bella clicked off the movie, came to check on my progress, and declared my work finished for the day.

Upstairs, she handed me a wad of cash. I pushed it back. "I can't take this, Bella. All I did was screw in a bunch of lightbulbs." And watch porn with you.

"Yes, today. But I'd really like to be able to hire you to do more odd jobs in the future. I can't do that if you won't let me pay you a fair wage for your time."

"So this isn't for taking off my shirt?" I was only half-kidding. These tips were starting to feel uncomfortably like something else. Even I had a moral compass, although right now, it seemed to be stuck on magnetic north.

"No, Edward. Come on," she said, giving me a reassuring smile. "What would that make me?"

"Okay. I accept, then."

I took the money, and she reached into the closet for my shirt and tie. With them, she handed me a small black shopping bag with blue tissue paper poking out the top. "This is for taking off your shirt," she said with a wink, "and for what you're going to take off when you come back here on Wednesday, one o'clock—sharp," she reminded me, as if I didn't have the date and time burned into my brain.

My heart thudding against my rib cage, I peered into the bag.

Cougarcougarcougarcougarcougarcougarcougarcougarcougar

I showed up at Nature's Bounty as promised at 3 p.m. the next day. With only two items in my basket—Coke and coconut oil— I could've glided through the express lane and been done with my shopping in mere minutes, but that would have defeated the purpose of my visit.

Edward lit up when he saw me at the end of his line. I watched his expression go from delight to curiosity as my two items rolled down the conveyor belt. He knew exactly why I'd bought the Coke, and if he paid attention to the porn yesterday, he knew exactly where that coconut oil was going to end up.

Much to Tanya's obvious aggravation, which only made it that much more fun, Edward offered to carry my single bag out for me, and I, of course, accepted.

"So? How did the manscaping go?" I asked him as we walked toward my car.

His cheeks turned a sweet shade of pink. "Pretty well, I think."

"I'll be the judge of that."

We reached my car, and Edward set the bag down in the back seat. Without needing to be prompted, he pulled out his phone, tapped it a few times, and handed it over to me.

Wow. The boy could follow instructions, I'd give him that. He'd made excellent use of his new trimmer, a.k.a. the lawnmower. His bushy forest was a neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair that looked every bit as professional as the YouTube link I'd sent him last night.

"Nicely done."

"Glad you approve."

"I do," I said as I swiped my finger across Edward's pubes.

The screen filled with a startlingly close image of a clean-shaven ball sac. His nuts hung low and heavy, a pair of overripe plums straining to hold onto the tree. I couldn't wait to pluck them.

I had a pang of regret at not watching his struggle with the trimmer; there had to have been a few choice curses for me along the way. But he'd done it, followed through until every last hair had been obliterated, and as a happy result, I would have a smooth sac to roll around in my cheeks tomorrow.

"This is impressive work, Edward."

"Thanks." He shot me a shy smile as I handed him back his phone. "Uh, there's one more, if you want to look . . ."

"Oh yeah?" I love me a cub who goes for extra credit. Curious as hell, I swiped to the next photo.

Well, hello.

Normally, I find dick pics cheesy and desperate. This one . . . was the whole package, so to speak. Clearly, the act of trimming for me—or taking the photos he knew he'd be showing me today?—had gotten my boy all excited, which was fun in and of itself. Still better, without the scrub brush in the way, I could see we'd unearthed quite a lovely specimen of manhood. In fact, if I were the type prone to flattery, I might have informed him he could easily have gotten a job as the poster-cock for the Manscaped company, if there were such a job to be had.

Edward shuffled anxiously at my side, possibly rethinking the wisdom of sharing that bonus photo. He'd taken a risk, and I wanted to reward him for it.

"Mmm, doesn't that look good enough to eat?" I asked half-rhetorically, glancing up to catch his gaze drop to my mouth. I parted my lips and flashed him a glimpse of my tongue.

Our fingers brushed as I passed the phone back to him. The simplest of touches, yet goosebumps rippled all over my body.

He cleared his throat. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow at one?"

"Call me at noon for your instructions . . . and try to get a good night's sleep." With a wink, I ducked into my car, leaving him to contemplate his fate.


Author's Note: She bought him Coke, people!

So, this chapter was somewhat inspired by a recent golf tournament giveaway the hubby received - a gift bag filled with products by Manscaped. Hubby raved about the products and instructions, and I thought, "WOW, what a good deed this company is doing for everyone who appreciates a well trimmed hedge!" And how about that extra credit? *hearty eyes*

Hey, thanks for all the sweet reviews and comments coming back on the story. It's fun to write a Bella who knows what she wants... or thinks she does, anyway... and ain't afraid to go and get that! Love to chayasara for helping make the words go down right.
XOXO
~BOH