KarMel Scholarship 2005
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“Cliché” By
Anonymous |
Desciption of Submission: “A new twist to a classic scenerio: Riki’s
pips are broekn, and who to call but the sexy plumber?
Hopefully his wife doesn’t mind.” - Anonymous
It was breakfast as usual in the
The flat of his wife's palm slammed into the table as she was delivered
what Riki thought must have been a wicked turn, making the dishes skip about
the table. "What do you mean 'he's
considering other options'?"
Suzanna demanded. "Mr.
Rodger's firm would be a valuable asset.
It would help us get the edge over--What?" Riki drifted away from the half-conversation
as his wife started with the monosyllabic responses.
To be perfectly honest, Riki had no idea what Suzanna actually did
for a living. Everyday she drove an hour
to
Being a product translator wasn't a hard job. Some days he didn't even work. Riki got paid per project rather than by
time, and so if he didn't feel like sitting at his desk all day, he
didn't. Even now he was sitting at the
breakfast table in just his pajama bottoms, trying not to be intimidated by his
wife's power-suit. Riki didn't envy her,
despite the money she made. He couldn't
stand being on call twenty-four hours a day.
Or worrying about...whatever it was she worried about.
Suzanna hung up the phone without saying 'good-bye' to the person on the
other end. She got up from the table
without finishing her breakfast, and went back in their bedroom to grab her
heels. "I'm off early today. My assistants are about to lose me the
Rodger's firm...they mean well, but..." Suzanna trailed off, her meaning
obvious. "See you later tonight,
Riki," she said, moving to gather her briefcase and pausing shortly to
kiss him on the cheek. Suzanna hated it
when he didn't brush his teeth first thing in the morning. "But don't wait up for me."
Like he ever did.
With a swish of polyester and nylon and the soft rustle of paper,
Suzanna was gone, the front door closed firmly behind her. Riki was alone in the house Suzanna's parents
had bought for them when they were first married. Somewhere he heard a clock ticking away the
seconds, and the distant laughter of children as they prepared to board the
school bus. Riki frowned. He didn't understand why the bus stop had to
be in his front lawn. The noise
was irritating this early in the morning--he hoped he never had children of his
own.
Unfortunately for him, Suzanna felt quite the opposite. She wanted nothing more than to have gobs of
children, stay at home and play with them all day. Riki had been an only child, and so didn't
have much experience with kids, but what he had seen of them, he didn't
like. Noisy, out of control, dirty...
Just the thought of having them around everyday was enough to make him
shudder. Maybe that was why their
sex-life had suddenly taken a turn for the worse.
If Suzanna came home and was interested at all, he told her that he was
tired, but it wasn't true. The reality
was that he was bored. It was boring to
have sex with his wife. Most times she'd
just lie there and...not do anything. When it came to the point when Riki could no
longer avoid Suzanna, what they did in the bedroom, for him, was as mechanical
as eating or breathing. There was no
passion--no feeling at all--involved.
Riki sighed as he got up. These
were not things he needed to be thinking about now. Gathering up the dishes from the table, he
dumped them all unceremoniously into the sink.
That was another thing--why had he suddenly gained all of the
responsibilities of a housekeeper? Just
because Suzanna was never home didn't mean that he should have to clean up
after her when she was. Riki grumbled as
he turned the faucet on. Demeaning was
what it was. What kind of man had to do
housework?
He left the water running as he rinsed the dishes, though the tap seemed
to be getting less pressure than usual.
It took him a moment to realize he was standing in a wide puddle of
water, and that it was steadily creeping across the hardwood floor. Uttering several blistering curses under his
breath, Riki turned the water off with a quick, furious motion. This was just what he needed. He crouched to examine the plumbing under the
sink.
It was clear that he had a problem.
Water was still weakly pulsing from a juncture in the pipes, and he had
no idea how to fix something like that.
He turned off the water supply to the rest of the sink and glared at
nothing in particular. This was
stupid. Why should he have to be dealing
with this? He was tempted just to mop
the water up and let Suzanna "discover" the leak the next time she
bothered to do dishes. But that could be
months from now, he thought balefully, and there was only so long he could live
with styrofoam dishes.
Disgusted with the whole business, Riki left the kitchen. All this meant that he'd have to call a
plumber, wait for him to get here, and then pay him a ridiculous amount of
money. Damn it, damn it, damn it.
Riki went into his bedroom to get dressed. He supposed he had to get dressed
before
But no, a quick glance revealed that it was just one of his old shirts
from college, thin and falling apart at the shoulders. Riki had filled out since he'd graduated--he
went to the gym everyday because that was more time he didn't have to spend at
home. Not to mention he'd been something
of a nerd back then, pale and gangly.
Now he was just pale.
The phone book made quite a sound as Riki slammed it open on the
countertop. He leafed through the
plumbing section looking only for the flashiest ad. It didn't matter too much to him how much he
paid--it wasn't his money he was going to be spending, anyway--just so long as
the damn thing didn't leak anymore. He
picked up the phone his wife had been barking in not fifteen minutes ago and
dialed the first number that jumped out at him.
The man on the phone explained that it would be at least a thirty minute
wait. Riki thanked him and hung up the
phone, finding the prefunctionary exchange refreshing. If only talking to Suzanna could be that
easy.
He shaved, brushed his teeth, and settled in front of the television to
wait for the plumber. As Riki flipped
through the few channels that were allotted to him, he remembered just why is was that he hated TV.
A knock at the door came sooner than he expected, startling him from the
half-awake stupor he found himself in.
He answered the door without checking to see if it was, indeed, the
plumber--in fact, Riki didn't much care who it was, just so long as they
could fix the leak and let him get on with his life. But the man standing on his front porch
carried what he expected were plumber's tools and his truck outside titled him
as such. That was good enough for Riki.
He stood about six inches taller than Riki himself, which wasn't too out
of the ordinary, and seemed to be much better built
than the stereotypical plumber. He
appeared to be about the same age as himself, too. If the man carried a name-tag of any kind,
Riki couldn't see it--the long-sleeved shirt of his uniform was tied around his
waist, leaving the upper portion of him clad only in white t-shirt. His dark hair was pulled back in a short
pony-tail--all in all, Riki thought he looked very unprofessional, but then
again, he wasn't exactly the perfect business man, either.
"Mr. Compton," the plumber said after a long moment, making
Riki realize that he'd been studying the man for entirely too long. He stepped out of the way, letting the other
man enter.
"Sorry about that," he muttered, and ran a hand through his
hair. When the plumber had come through
the doorway Riki shut it behind him with a mental sigh. He hoped this wouldn't take long.
"Hey, it's okay. Monday
morning--I know how it is. I'm Kinsey,
by the way." He smiled at Riki as
though they'd been best friends for years.
Riki returned it, though it wasn't sincere. He'd rather just have done with the formalities--the
longer they sat here making small talk, the longer that Riki would have to
pretend to be in a good mood. However,
he felt obligated to play along--after all, this guy hadn't been the one to
break the pipes, nor was he responsible for the shamble that his marriage was
in.
"I thought guys like you were named 'Bob' or 'Don,'" Riki
said, coming around to the kitchen.
Kinsey responded with a laugh. "Well, Bob was my given name, but I
changed it after the other five Bobs started answering my phone calls at
work." Riki smiled but said nothing
else. Before the moment had a chance to
turn awkward, with the clap of his hands Kinsey asked, "So, where's the
problem at?"
"The sink is leaking," Riki told him, almost cut short by the
sudden ringing of the telephone.
"Can you excuse me a moment?"
Without waiting for a reply, Riki brushed past the other man to get to
the phone on the other side of the kitchen.
Kinsey turned to watch him as he went, but the smaller man didn't
notice. "Hello?" He said into the receiver.
Kinsey studied the man's back when it was turned to him, the way he
subtly shifted his weight from one leg to the other. The jeans the other man was wearing had to be
old, because he knew how to wear them well. Kinsey had thought he'd looked good from the
front--with his tight shirt and pretty face--but seeing the way the fabric
clung to his ass in all the right places was just as good, if not better. His smile became a fraction wider as Riki
bent over the table for a moment to collect a stray fork.
"Oh, hi," Riki said into the phone, not sounding very
enthusiastic. "I'm working today,
yes. And the sink broke, so I'm having to get that fixed." A pause. "Yes, now." Another, longer pause. He transferred his weight to the other leg once
again, and turned. Kinsey saw him roll
his eyes. "Yeah,
whatever. Did you leave the
ticket?" For the second time that
morning, he ran a hand through his hair.
"Okay, fine. I'll see you
later...Bye." The man sighed and
hung up the phone.
Kinsey knew it was in bad taste to ask, but did anyway. "Who was that?" Riki frowned at him for a long moment.
"My wife," he answered stiffly, and Kinsey inwardly
cursed. "She wants me to pick up
her dry-cleaning."
"Hm. That's rough," Kinsey answered, kneeling
on the kitchen floor and opening his box of tools. He'd already started to give up on the chance
that this might be something other than a simple pipe repair. He didn't mess around with married
men--scorned women were frightening.
Seeing that the valve was already shut off, he grabbed for a wrench and
started with the first washer when something occurred to him.
"You didn't say you loved your wife, Mr. Compton," said
Kinsey, coming out from underneath the sink.
"I don't see what business it is of yours," Riki snapped,
"and besides, what does that prove?"
He leaned against the opposite counter, behind the other man.
"Nothing--I'm just saying, when most men talk to their wives, they
say that they love them, is all."
Kinsey smiled to reinforce his statements as a joke, though they most
certainly were not.
"I do love my wife," Riki protested, though the words sounded
hollow and practiced even to his own ears.
Well, he didn't have to explain himself to this guy, anyway. Who did he think he was? "Why don't you just fix the goddamn sink
so you can get the hell out?"
Kinsey got up, turned, and found himself
staring down at the smaller man, who was standing within his arm’s reach.
Riki sucked in his breath and immediately found that he was having
trouble expelling it again. The
proximity of the other man was enough cause that type of extreme reaction. Woah, Riki thought. When had that happened?
“Why don’t I believe you, Mr. Compton?” Kinsey leaned in a little bit more, and Riki
became even more nervous.
“My name is Riki,” he told the man, not liking the emphasis Kinsey was
placing on his name. If he was shoved
any closer to the counter behind him, he’d be sitting on it. Kinsey didn’t seem to care. One of the plumber’s large hands fell against
the edge of the counter to his right, followed shortly by one on his left. Riki was effectively trapped in the circle of
Kinsey’s arms.
“Riki, eh?” He said, raising one brow. “That’s original.”
“I thought so,” the smaller man gritted out, literally bending over
backwards to get away from Kinsey. But
it was in vain; the other man continued to move forward until their hips
met. Riki nearly jumped out of his skin,
but was quickly given something else to worry about as Kinsey’s tongue slipped
inside his mouth and one of the man’s large hands worked its way through his
hair.
When he broke away, Riki stared at him with a mixture of shock, horror,
and something else as well. “What the
hell was that about?!”
Kinsey regarded him a moment before smiling widely. “Hm, you know...it’s not cheating unless you
get caught.”
Slowly, Riki’s expression changed from one of outraged confusion to one
of perfect clarity--like he was waking up after a long, long sleep. And, just as slowly, he replied, “if you won’t
tell, I won’t tell.”
++
Suzanna tapped her expensively manicured nails against the steering
wheel as she drove, humming along with a merry tune on the radio as if she knew
it. She was in a fantastic mood; by the
time she’d gotten to work today, the deal had been sealed, and her team was
already drawing up the contract. To
congratulate them, she gave them the rest of the day off--as soon as both her and Mr. Rodger’s signatures graced the bottom of a legally
binding document. It was just barely
His hands were roaming all over his body, touching him in places he didn’t
even know he had. An almost smothered
moan escaped his lips as he arched to meet Kinsey’s touch. If only Suzanna had enflamed him this way--if
only... Oh God, she wasn’t capable, she didn’t know how!
And it couldn’t have come at a better time, all things told. Riki was beginning to pull away from her, and
Suzanna just hadn’t had the time to reel him back in. Her job kept her so busy she almost didn’t
have time to sleep anymore. Suzanna
figured that was what the problem was--her job.
Being a successful business woman and bringing in a higher salary than
Riki must intimidate him; make him feel inadequate. Honestly, Suzanna understood, and if she
could change it, she would. She’d have
loved to stay home like Riki did, taking care of all the domestic problems and
just being there...but if she was to make partner and take out that damn
Achilles, she’d have to choose work over home.
And she did, every time.
He felt like he was on fire.
Kinsey’s lips lavished attention on his long neglected flesh; he felt
the man’s strong hands move to hold him still as he fought to move further into
that touch, craving, wanting, needing him.
Suzanna pulled off onto her exit, still humming along with a song she
did not know. Today she was leaving her
work at work, for once. Maybe she and
Riki could go out to lunch together or...
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God...!
Or maybe they could just stay in.
It had been so long, after all.
She was getting a bit antsy, herself--well, she would if she had the
time--Suzanna could only imagine what Riki was going through. She sighed; he was so good to her;
ever-faithful, ever-supportive Riki. It
was a pity--truly, it was--that she couldn’t be at home more.
Kinsey continued to stroke him even after he’d reached climax. His body was sensitive,
the calluses on the other man’s fingers excited him. They were so unlike Suzanna’s talons she
called nails. A tired grin appeared on
his face as he watched one of Kinsey’s dark brows rise at the evidence of his
renewed arousal. He laughed and
shrugged. “It’s been a while.”
The song on the radio ended as she pulled her expensive luxury sedan
into the drive way. Throwing
it into park (to hell with the garage!
She simply couldn’t wait!), Suzanna stepped out onto the hard concrete
and was welcomed home by an explosive snap.
She wobbled dangerously before grabbing a hold of the car door; a brief
glance down revealed that the heel of her left pump had come unattached, and
was currently lying innocently on the ground.
With a bitten back curse and a dangerous glare, Suzanna removed her shoes
and hobbled to her front door. Doubtless
her panty-hose were ruined now.
“Obviously,” Kinsey returned.
In her frustration, she did not notice the plumber’s truck parked across
the street. If asked about it later, she
would admit to forgetting the plumber’s presence, or indeed, anything her
husband had told her this morning. The
man didn’t enunciate his words--it was simply too much work to listen to
him sometimes!
He could guess what came next.
Pulling Kinsey to him, he was thrilled by the feeling of hard muscle
against his chest--of strength and capability... His thoughts of passion were
interrupted by a question, murmured against his lips. “Does your wife come home for lunch?”
With her Prada heels in one hand and her keys in the other, Suzanna
opened the door to her residence. She
set the shoes down lightly, hoping to surprise her husband. Suzanna crept silently from Riki’s office to
the kitchen searching for him, further destroying her panty-hose by walking
into a standing puddle of water on her kitchen floor. “Damn!” She hissed, and started rummaging through the
drawers to find the dish towels.
Eventually she found them--in the last drawer she looked in, of course. Couldn’t Riki keep anything in a
logical fashion? The puddle reminded her
of the plumber that was supposed to visit, however. Suzanna wondered if he had already come.
“She doesn’t need to eat, she’s a damned robot,” he replied. They both laughed a little.
A tired laugh from the direction of the bedroom captured her attention. She got up on her knees and said “Riki?” What was he doing in there?
The sound of his wife’s voice brought Riki out of his coital daze and
into a frantic panic. He looked up at
Kinsey like he would have a bloody corpse had he been holding a knife. In the
chaotic moments before Suzanna opened the bedroom door, he was only to stare at
the other man with a mix of irony and horror in his eyes. Kinsey returned the look with semi-amused apology. His reaction time must have been considerably
slower than Riki’s, for he continued to straddle the younger man, his back
towards the door. His unzipped pants
inched lower across his backside.
Suzanna opened the door and stared at the damning tableau with wide
eyes. After several excruciatingly long
moments, she collapsed to the floor, still clinging to the doorknob. She held her hand over her eyes, and was
surprised when she heard her own strained voice.
“Damn it, man, pull your pants up!
Plumbers, I swear to God...!”
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