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Jessie, now selling or leasing up to eight apartments a week, remained too busy to talk to Woody but always waved and she rushed by.

One day Pamela spotted the look on Woody's face watching Jessie speed by and her heart melted for the poor guy. In her best-honeyed voice Pamela said, "Woody, could you call around to check my plumbing tonight. Paul is away at a Realtor's convention so perhaps you'd like to come for drinks and dinner as well?"

"Yeah, okay. I'd like to get at those big tits."

"Oh Woody."


Woody and Pamela only had the one fling. Pamela was amazed that Woody knew so much about sex and seemed to know so little about anything else. He hadn't even known about social mores and the adverse reactions of family and friends when finding out about the great social evil called adultery.

"Adultery, what's that?"

They had been about to commit to that very thing and so with heavy heart, feeling it would drive him away from her looming evening of passion, Pamela explained it to him. And then was blown away when he bit her left breast and chortled, "Damn them, who cares?"

So she experienced the most robust fucking of her life and could scarcely walk to the kitchen when she arose from the sofa to heed his call he'd like coffee and something solid to eat. He'd even fucked her on the dining room table; she'd been unaware that was a great place to do it. He'd drawn passion from her she'd not known she'd possessed -- he did all of that, a poorly educated guy, really not much more than a kid. Unbelievable.

It was unbelievable that Woody and Pamela became close friends. The mismatch threw her family; even her husband thought Pamela must be fucking Woody. But gradually the lively lad won them over. Woody had done plumbing work for both of Pamela's married daughters. They knew it was tradition for housewives to be fucked by the plumber and attempted to comply with tradition but were thwarted when Woody wouldn't oblige. The daughters compared notes to find although he'd turned red-faced and appeared ready to shaft them to the hilt, judging by the manner smaller woody was behaving behind Woody's shorts, he'd stood to attention and intoned, "The ship must come before everything else. My friendship to your mother calls for that same pledge."

Pledge? They failed to understand but agreed Woody must be fucking their mom for her to deserve that level of loyalty.
But no. Woody kept his zip up when with Pamela apart from that one evening of passion. Pamela had assumed the role of mentor and extended that to help Woody with his accounts and payments when they lunched in her office on Thursdays. She expanded to begin advising him on his wardrobe, urged him to grow his blond hair longer, corrected his grammar and began teaching him about things a young guy needed to know to impress the woman he'd not met yet who was destined to become his mother in law.

Woody's business grew so he hired three retired navy plumbers to be on call and by the end of the year two more had been added. The fraternity called themselves Woody's Geriatric Helpers and Woody set up a depot, bought a clapped-out limo and hired a street kid to drive his Geriatric Helpers to their jobs and collect them when they called.

That aspect of the business was an astonishing success. Older women felt safer when alone in the house or apartment with 'a geriatric plumber' although all elderly plumbers claimed they could prove everything was in fine working order if required. A newspaper columnist published a photograph of the five geriatrics lined up alongside their limo, each guy brandishing a wrench, and wrote a colorful story about their backgrounds and their new role in civilian life that had brought them out of retirement.

A TV reporter seized on the story, added Woody to the mix and the comment she drew from Woody, "I do the jobs where female clients are likely to want traditional service from their plumber, leaving all the other

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