You thought you were alone…

As a cable installer, I work odd hours so I don’t disrupt people’s work. I have become accustomed to working in the dark, since much of my work involves crawling though raceways, ceilings, etc. So when I wire an office, I rarely turn on the lights, so my eyes aren’t constantly having to adjust.

Anyhow, I was working in a high-rise office building downtown one late evening. Everyone had gone home, and it was just me and my spool of cable, like usual. As I made my way up the ladder, through the ceiling access panel and into the raceway above, I pulled the cable behind me. I walked across the raceway, and I could see down through the various return-air vents. This helps me be able to tell which offices I am above.

Suddenly I see light shine up through one of the vents. I kneel down low to look through the vent to see what’s going on. I am supposed to be alone! I am a little startled, and I wonder what this person might be up to. As my eyes adjust to the bright office light, I am blessed with the vision of a stunning brunette woman in a short leather skirt, with a briefcase. “Oh, this must be her office” I thought. She slams the briefcase on her desk as she slumps down into the office chair. She slowly twirls around in the chair and I can see her face. Long brunette hair flowing down the side of her dark-rim glasses.

My first post- The redhead and the repairman

I am sitting in my work van eating my lunch when my phone rings. It seems that one of the remote sales ladies is having trouble logging into the system from home. Since it’s my job to maintain all the remote workers, I open a trouble ticket, set the GPS, and head toward her house.

The drive was pretty uneventful. As I arrive at her place, I ascend the long, winding driveway that levels off at a fancy hilltop house. It looks very out-of-place for the area. It’s all glass-and-beam construction, with views of the whole city. There’s one car in the driveway, some two-seat roadster. I assume this is going to be the usual overly-entitled, impatient client that barks at me the whole time I am working.

Still taking in the scenery, I ring the doorbell. I hear the door open, but my back is to the door (I’m still looking around). As I turn around, I am greeted by a pair of stunning blue eyes, framed by locks of flowing red hair. She couldn’t be 5ft tall, probably about 35 years old, and perfect curves too. She had on a red, low-cut top that accented her tremendous natural breasts, and a black skirt that showed off her perfectly toned legs. I think I might be staring a little too long, when she says “Hi, I’m Sam, you must be here to fix my computer!” she says with a bubbly smile.