Page 118 of Not That Ridiculous

“Drills, saws. Wasn’t there some big talk earlier about sledgehammers?”

“Yeah.” He tugged his mask back up. “But that’s for full demo, and we can’t really sleep in here tonight if I take the whole thing down. I’ll cut a section away and we’ll see what’s up. Then I’ll fuck you, we can order pizza, I’ll fuck you again, and I’ll start bright and early tomorrow.”

“I’ll have to run to the shop to close up at six, but other than that, sounds like you’ve got it all planned out.”

His cheeks bunched, narrowing his eyes, as he leaned his upper body towards me as if he was sharing a secret. “It’s on the calendar in my project binder.” He squeezed my butt again, then let go and picked up a small saw. “Right, what I’m going to do now is, I’m going to slip my big blade nice and slow into this tight little hole?—”

“Uh-huh.”

“—and then I’m going to shove it iiiiiiiin.” Metal teeth ripped through plaster and wood. “And drag it oooooout.”

“I think I prefer you trying to be sexy with pastries.”

“No, you don’t. Look at my biceps.”

I did.

His right arm was by my face, and as soon as I glanced at it, he flexed and pushed the saw in again. “Uhn,” he said softly. Exactly the way he did in bed, right before he got loud.

I stared as he pulled the blade back then pushed it forwards again with another soft, deliberate grunt. He did it a few more times before he laughed and stopped fooling around, turning his attention to doing the job properly.

It was bizarrely more arousing than the porn-version he’d just treated me to.

It didn’t take long for him to cut three sides of a small section of the wall, about a foot square at chest height. He cut through the fourth side, then put the saw down and pulled the section clean off with a splintering sound. “See?” he said. “Load of plaster on top of wood.” He dropped the section and leaned in, running a gloved finger lightly over the cut. “Yeah, look. Old plywood. And wow, that’s a fuck-ton of plaster on top. Inches thick.”

I came up beside him and peered into the dark space he’d opened up. “Is there something in there?” I said.

Kevin ducked down. “Oh. Yeah. I think there is.”

I went to put my arm in the hole but he caught my wrist.

“Nope,” he said. “Don’t go sticking your arm into mystery holes. Rule for DIY, rule for life. Let me get my torch and make sure you’re not going to cut yourself on anything.”

“Good point. Sorry.”

He nodded at me and bent down to get his torch, a foot-long, black-and-yellow monster. He switched it on and aimed it in the hole. “Huh,” he said.

“What?”

“Looks like a side panel, maybe? You might get your shelving unit after all. Could be a wardrobe, although I don’t know why someone would seal it up.”

“Ooh.”

“Is it okay if I take a bit more of the wall out?” He put the torch down and gripped the edge in a big gloved fist. “Like…how much of a mess can I make here?”

I stared at the hole, then shrugged. “As much as you like. We can sleep in the guest room tonight.” I’d have to excuse myself while he was busy making a mess, stuff as many of the unopened packing boxes still in the guest room under the bed as I could manage, and run the rest out to hide in the garage.

He quivered with excitement. “Really?”

“Yep. You can use your sledgehammer and everything.”

“You’re the best, Charlie!” He grabbed me and kissed me. At least, he tried to. Mostly he mashed our masks together. “Sorry.” He leaned back, snatched his mask off, then mine, and pushed his tongue into my mouth.

I laughed, throwing my arms around his neck. “You really love your job,” I said when he released me.

“Yeah,” he said. “My job. God, I love my job.” He leaned in and mumbled against my lips, “Love it, Charlie,” before he tugged my mask back up, and then his, staring at me the whole time.

“Well?” I gestured at the hole. “Have at it.”

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