Josh Fixes My Roof

I've been having trouble with my roof, since I got the flashing done. There has been a constant drip right next to my office that there never was before the flashing was replaced. Drip, drip, drip once the rain starts falling. Grrrr! And, I have to tell you, that sort of noise is one of my pet hates...

Also, the leaking in the toilet that they water proofed is still leaking in heavy rain.

So, I called up Josh. I called up Josh? I make it sound so simple, but the truth is that I agonised over it for days. I am good in a confrontation, dispute, whatever you want to call it, right there on the spot, with no time to think about it, I am excellent with such things. However, if you give me any time to think about it, I procrastinate like a bitch, think about every possible scenario, think about it some more, quite possible lose some sleep over it. How do I prove what is wrong when it’s just that it never happened before he fixed the roof. What if he comes over and it doesn’t do it? What if he says no, he won’t fix it because it doesn’t sound like something he caused? What if? What if? What if?

And it wasn't until today, when it rained all morning and the drip was Drip, DRIP, DRIPPING, that I picked up my phone and called.

So, Josh was nice about it, as I explained what I thought was the problem. He'll send someone around next week to look at it, he said. 

So, he's not coming himself, for me to perve on his cute arse and thick thighs in his shorts and day dream about what I'd like to do to him. You know, get him on his knees, with his shorts and jocks around his thighs... um... er... pity.

"You didn't get the job done right, did you Josh?"

"No." I slap his arse. "Ah," he calls out.

"You are a bad boy, aren't you Josh!"

"Yes." Slap. "Ah."

"Are you going to continue to be a bad boy?"

"Yes." Slap. "Ah"

"No, Josh not now." Slap.

"Ah! I'm sorry." Slap. "Ah." Slap.

"You're not going to be a bad boy again, are you Josh?"

"No." Slap. "Ah."

"You are going to fix my... roof, aren't you Josh?"

"Yes." Slap. "Oh yeah."

"You are not going to make this mistake again, are you Josh?"

"No." Slap. "Ah, yeah!"

"Do you have anything else to say for yourself, Josh?"

"Please slap me again."

"Again, what?"

"Again, sir." Slap. "Ah."

Slap "Oh, thank you sir."

Slap. "Yes. Yes."

Slap. "Oh yes. thank you sir."

Slap. Slap. Slap.

"Oh my god, oh, oh OH!"

“Anything else to say?”

“Yes, please, slap me harder.’

“Slap me harder, what?”

“Sir, slap me harder, sir.”

Slap, slap, slap.

"Oh, OH, Ah Ah AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He gasps for breath.

He’s even more handsome... He rolls over onto his back, and brings his knees up. He screws up his face like he is in pain, pain that he is enjoying pain that is excruciatingly good. He throws his head back. His body jerks. His body jerks again, and again. His whole body spasms with electric shocks. He groans, and groans and groans again. Then he is still.

"Good boy, Josh,” I say. “Good boy."

Josh is still panting and breathing hard.

Ha ha, so I guess you can assume correctly that I think Josh is as cute as the proverbial...

Dark hair, boyish face, hairy chest, tight waist, beefy arse, thick thighs, cute smile, just slightly below my height, so just perfect to be bent over.

But he’s not coming, in my thoughts, or in person, he is sending, who I can now assume, is his right hand man, Beau. Beau, the long tall streak of Aussie bloke. Beau who got up there and did all the work the last time... and who complained about Josh not telling him exactly how hard the job was going to be?

So, do I think Beau is going to come with his big extension ladder next week ready to get up to my highest roof to trim the flashing so it doesn’t drip in the rain like this is waterboarding at Guantanamo Bay every time it rains? Mmmmm? I wonder?

So, I immediately start worrying about next week and what Beau is going to do to fix my woes.

I’ve got to say, I think we get more anxious as life goes on, not less. I never used to worry about anything once, now I stress out about the smallest thing.