Home Improvements

By M. Greene published January 31, 2019

Tim hires two builders…

Home Improvements

Part 1


As soon as I saw Rattler Creek Farm I knew I just had to have it. I first came across the place six months ago as I was driving back to the city late one afternoon. It was a two-story, detached property with quite a bit of land around it, set about five hundred yards away from the main road into the city. The sinking sun threw red and gold highlights onto the faded white clapboard of the house and the rotting picket fence surrounding it, giving everything a truly magical glow…

A board outside the lot advertised the details of the real estate company dealing with the sale, so I made enquiries and found that due to the huge amount of renovation work the whole place needed, it was on the market for a very reasonable price. Some conversations with my parents, bank manager, the property company and a few lawyers, followed by a little form filling and document signing and the house was mine by the following month.

Most of my friends think I’m crazy to have moved from my rented city apartment out to ‘the sticks’ as urban folks call anyplace out of town, but the truth is that it’s only a forty-minute drive away from the office and I like how peaceful it is. Cassie, my girlfriend, was pretty mad at me for buying the place and deciding to live there without consulting her first. To tell the truth, we had quite a serious row about it, but when I said that it was an investment for the future, she calmed down a bit. Rattler Creek Farm used to be in the middle of nowhere, but now it’s in a suburb of the city with a few modern estates nearby. Despite its name, there are no rattlesnakes in the nearby creek anymore; encroaching human settlement must have scared them away years ago. The little stream is still there, though, and it’s a pretty spot with enough surrounding land to give me privacy.

On the negative side, the place is very dilapidated. It’s got running water and power, but lacks modern plumbing and needs complete rewiring. Not only that, every single room requires complete redecoration and I don’t yet own nearly enough furniture to fill a house this size. Still, for now, I’m camping out in two ground-floor rooms, which I’ve partially fixed up and the nearby kitchen and bathroom are useable even if they do have ugly, old-fashioned fittings which will eventually have to be replaced.

I have a degree in computer science and work for a world-famous software company, so most folks see me as intelligent, successful and rich. I guess I am. Luckily for me, Dad is the CEO of a major bank and Mom comes from an ‘old money’ family, so I never lacked for anything during my childhood. I attended a very expensive private school before going on to study at an ivy-league university. I like reading books and designing software programmes, but I’m also keen on sports and represented my college as a long-distance runner when I was eighteen. Now, at the grand old age of twenty-seven, everyone says I have a bright future ahead of me and are just waiting for the official announcement that Cass and I are formally engaged.

I’ve got many talents, but home improvements aren’t included in them. Okay, I can swing a paintbrush and just about hang wallpaper, but electricity scares the shit out of me and plumbing is a total mystery. Not only that, but after paying the hefty deposit on this place, I’m not exactly rolling in liquid money. I badly need a reasonably-priced builder who can deal with all the heavy stuff I can’t manage myself: brickwork, plastering, roofing, carpentry, wiring and piping. Talk about ‘mission impossible’…

Still, I’m nothing if not an optimist, so I scour the internet and local ads for help. Eventually, I find a small firm that claims to possess all the skills I need. It has a ton of positive write-ups and most of them claim that its prices are very reasonable. It’s a partnership called ‘Mullen and Wolf’. I give them a call and arrange for them to drive out to have a look at Rattler Creek Farm and give me a free estimate.

A couple of days later, I’ve just arrived home from work when a rusty-looking truck covered in dried mud splashes comes tearing up the rutted road leading to the farm and parks right outside next to my smart, red convertible. I watch from the window as two guys jump out of this elderly vehicle and head towards my front door. They both look to be around thirty years of age. These are my potential builders and they’re exactly on time for their appointment, which is a very good sign. Rather less positive is their general appearance…

The darker one has long, greasy-looking, jet-black hair tied back in a ponytail and a scruffy looking beard to match. The fairer one has no facial hair, but his head is shaved, which makes him look like a soldier or a skinhead. The pair must put in a lot of hours at a gym as they’re powerfully built guys, with impressive chest development and muscular limbs. They’re both wearing monkey boots, filthy-looking jeans and stained wife-beater vests. Their bare arms are heavily tattooed. Oh well, I think, as they approach, I guess I want them to fix up my house, not run a fashion show…

“Shane Mullen,” the hairy one says, shaking my hand with the grip of a man drowning. I wince. He’s over a foot taller than me and obviously as strong as an ox. The marine-type, who also towers over me, completes the semi-destruction of my right hand and introduces himself as Colin Wolf.

“Tim Langdon,” I reply, rubbing my aching fingers as I turn to lead them both into the house. Actually, my full name is Timothy Michael Langdon-Percival III, but I like to keep things simple when dealing with blue-collar types like these guys.

We spend the next two hours walking around the entire property, with Mullen and Wolf pointing out everything that’s wrong with the place and telling me what needs to be done. It’s a pretty long list, most of which I knew already. During our tour, I decide to hire the pair of them as they seem to know what they’re talking about and all their on-line testimonials are excellent.

It’s dark by the time we’re finished and I’m starving hungry. Knowing that the two builders are going to be part of my life for the next few months and wanting to get our business relationship off to a positive start, I offer them a share of the tuna steak, new potatoes and salad I’m planning to cook for myself tonight as well as a glass of white wine each if they want it. They gladly accept, but say they prefer beer and I manage to find some cold lagers at the back of the fridge. They sit down at the kitchen table and I place a bottle and a glass next to each of them. Mullen and Wolf ignore the glasses and drink their beer straight from the bottle. I realise that I probably should have expected that…

As I fry the fish, we chat about which jobs need to be prioritised and about how I can’t afford to get everything fixed at once.

“That’s okay,” Mullen says, taking another swig of beer and wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “You can just pay us a day or two in advance as we go.”


“Cash though…” Wolf warns. “We only deal in cash…”

I turn around from the stove to tell them that it will be real inconvenient for me to draw out fistfuls of dollar bills from the bank every day, but they both look up at me with their incredibly piercing eyes and I hear myself saying that I guess cash will be okay.

For ‘ordinary’ guys like this, their eyes are quite astonishing. Wolf’s are an unusual shade of light cobalt blue and Mullen’s are bright emerald green. I find I can’t look away from their combined stare, even though I’m in the middle of frying the fish. To my relief, the builders both break eye-contact after a few seconds and I discover that I’m able to concentrate on the tuna steaks again.

As we eat, I notice that their table-manners leave a lot to be desired. They gobble their food down incredibly noisily and fast, often using their fingers rather than the cutlery provided. They both devour the fish and potatoes, but leave their side-bowls of crispy green salad completely untouched. When they’ve finished their meal, I’m only halfway through mine and I watch Wolf poking the lettuce leaves around with his fingers as though they are laboratory specimens on a Petri dish.

“You don’t like salad much?”

Mullen chuckles and Wolf makes a face. “Fucking rabbit food,” the skinhead says. “It’s only fit for girls on a diet…”

I smile politely and then freeze in horror as Mullen produces a pack of short, slim cigars. He sticks one in the corner of his mouth and offers another to his partner. Before I can say anything, they’ve both lit up and my kitchen is being filled with a haze of blue smoke. I want to tell them this house is a total no-smoking zone, but Mullen fixes those penetrating green eyes of his on me again and I find myself lost for words. I part my lips to speak, but I discover I can’t. All I can do is stare at those amazing jade-coloured eyes…

Next to his friend, Wolf grins and exhales a stream of cigar smoke in my general direction. It’s as though he’s read my mind when he says: “Look – we’re gonna be working here for the foreseeable and we can’t concentrate good without our smokes. If you don’t like it, then you’ll have to hire another firm…”

Mullen is still staring at me and I just can’t look away from him. I find myself stammering slightly for some weird reason. “N-no… It’s okay… I g-guess I’ll get used to it…”

Mullen nods and looks away. The nervous fluttering in my stomach immediately dies down.

“So long as you open a few windows…” I add defiantly, somehow finding some backbone again now that Mullen isn’t staring at me anymore.

Mullen just snorts contemptuously at this and Wolf says nothing. They obviously don’t consider my comment worthy of a reply.

A few days later, the builders drive over early, and before heading off for work, I hand over the spare set of keys so that they can get access to start putting the electrics right. We’ve decided that re-wiring the whole place needs to be the first job as it requires lifting floorboards and generally fucks up the walls, which all need re-plastering anyway. Normally I’d be a little wary about giving a set of house keys to folks I hardly know, but Mullen and Wolf’s references are exemplary and, besides my expensive computer equipment, there’s very little in the house worth stealing in any case.

By the time my working day is over and I return, Mullen and Wolf have fitted new cables and plug sockets in three of the downstairs rooms as well as in the basement. I’m real pleased with the great progress they’ve made and glad I bought home some tins of beer for them. Although I’m not really into beer, I crack open a tin myself to be sociable and the three of us stand together in the kitchen discussing where the cooker and other electrical appliances will eventually go when the room is refitted. Mullen and Wolf are both puffing away on small cigars again and I’m painfully aware that I’m breathing in quite a lot of their second-hand smoke. It’s totally disgusting, but I don’t say anything. In a big project like this, sacrifices have to be made, I guess…


The rewiring is now completely finished and my builders have made a start on the plumbing. I have to admit that they really know what they’re doing and I have absolutely no complaints about their work. Due to a meeting that ran on, I arrive home from the office much later than usual and I’m slightly surprised to see their truck still parked outside the house. Mullen and Wolf have usually left by this time…

I find them both sitting in the kitchen chuckling over some private joke. They’re both smoking and by the looks of the discarded tins, already on their third round of beers. I’m a tad irritated as I feel tired after what has been a long day at work and just want some peace. “Be careful, guys,” I say, keeping my voice light and cheerful so they don’t think I’m lecturing them. “If you have much more to drink, you’ll be way over the limit and won’t be able to drive home…”

Mullen and Wolf both laugh, but also give me a real nasty glare and I feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach. My ball-sack even starts to shrink up inside my pants. I have to admit that I’m slightly scared of these two when they look at me like this…

“We never drink and drive,” Wolf says coldly, looking at me as though I’m a total asshole for even suggesting that they might.

“No, of course,” I say. My voice sounds unusually shrill and weak.

“In fact,” Mullen adds, “We were thinking of staying the night so we can start work again real early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh…” My mind is racing now. I only have one bed. Where will they sleep?

Again, Wolf appears to read my mind. “Don’t worry about it. We can sleep in our truck…”

I shake my head. “No – you’ll both freeze to death out there. I know it’s the summer, but the nights here are real cold…” I think for a minute. “One of you can sleep on the sofa and if we push two armchairs together it will make a second bed. I’ve got some spare blankets…”

Mullen nods. “Sounds good… We’ve brought our sleeping bags with us, too.”

I go to my bedroom to fetch what spare bedding I can find and it occurs to me that I only have enough food in the house to feed myself. What on earth can I give Mullen and Wolf to eat?

“Hey don’t worry about it,” Mullen says when I tell them the situation. “We’ll just order pizza or something…”

“I think there’s a place a couple of miles away that will deliver,” I reply, searching in one of the kitchen drawers for a flier I remember finding amongst my junk mail. Although I never usually eat pizza, I kept it in case of an emergency.

Fast-forward an hour and Mullen and Wolf are tucking into their take-outs, eating the pizzas straight out of the box they arrived in. I sit opposite them picking at the remains of some macaroni cheese I made three days ago. I’ve managed to fix myself some lettuce and tomato to go with it, but feel rather self-conscious eating this after Wolf’s comments the other week. I’m starting to wonder if eating salad is perhaps a tad effeminate…

At some point during our meal, Wolf begins talking to me about plumbing and I find myself gazing into those incredibly bright blue eyes of his and start to lose track of what he’s saying. It’s weird – I can’t look away or reply – all I can do is sit there staring back at him. I’m holding a fork in my right hand and my lips are parted to accept another mouthful of food, but I am totally unable to move. Maybe I doze off for a few moments; I have had a long day at work, after all. Whatever; it seems like I’m frozen in position for ages, listening to him talk. When Wolf finally looks away from my eyes, I can’t remember a damned word he said to me, I’ve got a stream of drool running from my open mouth down my shirt and my macaroni is stone-cold.

Later, I lie in bed listening to Mullen and Wolf snoring away in the living room next door. Jesus – it’s so loud the walls are probably shaking… Frankly, I’m not really surprised they’re snoring like pigs; they polished off seven tins of beer and two pizzas each this evening. I turn over and try to go to sleep, but with all this noise it’s impossible. I end up lying on my back thinking of Cassie and about how much I’m looking forward to seeing her this coming weekend. Given the sorry state of my house at the moment, she and I will spend Saturday and Sunday at her place as we usually do. My dick swells and stiffens as I imagine making love to her, so I start to jack off. Unfortunately, the builders’ loud snores keep intruding into my fantasies and, instead of Cassie, all I can think about is Mullen and Wolf’s penetrating eyes. Concentrating real hard, I manage to switch back to Cassie’s beautiful face and breasts, but another loud snore from through the wall jolts me straight back again to those bright green or cobalt stares. Weirdly, despite this, my dick doesn’t soften in the least and, before I know it, I’ve cum all over my stomach. As I reach for the tissues, I realise that the house is now completely silent. Mullen and Wolf have stopped snoring…

The next day is Friday and I tell the builders that I won’t be back until Sunday night as I’m planning to head over to Cassie’s place straight from work. They nod and Wolf announces that they will stay over to get the plumbing finished. I thank them profusely as the quicker the place is fixed up, the better. I feel pretty comfortable leaving Mullen and Wolf alone in the house for a few days. They’re totally trustworthy, even though they do make the place stink of cigars…

The weekend is great. Cassie and I eat out, catch a movie, walk in the park and cook a meal together in her apartment. She’s as beautiful, funny and vivacious as ever. Only one issue spoils the whole thing for me. For two nights running, I find myself unable to get a proper hard-on when we’re in bed together. Cassie is real understanding, of course, telling me not to worry and that ‘these things happen sometimes’. I say that I feel a failure and she kindly replies that with my beautiful blond hair and gorgeous grey eyes, I can never be a failure in her book. She suggests that maybe I’m working too hard and reminds me that I haven’t taken any time off in over a year. What I probably need is a vacation, she says, or at least a few days working at home…

I arrive back home very late on Sunday evening after taking Cassie for a delicious meal at a wonderful French restaurant we both like. Mullen and Wolf are in my office-come-lounge watching a football game on TV. The room stinks of cigar smoke and the coffee table is littered with empty beer cans. I’m about to say something when Mullen sees me standing there and fixes me with his hard emerald stare. I shut my mouth again.

“Welcome home, Timmy – you have a good time?”

“Yeah… It was great,” I say. I want to tell him not to call me ‘Timmy’ because I really hate it when folks do that, but I’m rather distracted by the fact that I’ve just noticed that the television isn’t mine. The screen looks enormous and totally dominates one side of the room. For a few seconds, I watch the players running around on the bright green football pitch, unable to take it all in. I wonder where my own portable set has gone…

Again, Wolf has read my mind. “We moved your little TV into the kitchen,” he says. “We thought you might like to watch it while you cook.”

“Oh…” The truth is, I don’t really watch much television, but I guess it is a kind thought…

Mullen waves his cigar towards the massive screen. “As we’re staying here so often, we thought we might as well bring our own TV over. It’s high definition…”

I nod. “The picture sure is crisp,” I say. I’m kind of lost for words.

Wolf smiles and takes another drag from his own small cigar. “Say, Timmy, as you’re already up on your feet, can you fetch us another beer?”

I shrug, walk into the kitchen and open the fridge. It’s packed full of beers and stuff I don’t recognise; mainly pizzas, jars of mayo and cook-chill dinners of various kinds. Mullen and Wolf have obviously been shopping… Wondering where I’m going to store my own food when I finally get a chance to visit the store, I grab two tins of beer and take them through to the builders.

“Thanks,” Wolf says. “Help yourself if you want one…”

In a kind of daze, I wander back to the kitchen and get another beer for myself. I open a cupboard to fetch a glass and then decide it’s probably not worth dirtying one. I’ll just drink it straight from the tin like Mullen and Wolf do…

Back in the lounge, it’s quite warm, so I take off my leather jacket before sitting down. Mullen and Wolf have stripped down to their vests. Not for the first time, I can’t help admiring their muscular arms. They obviously both work out regularly, I think, as I sip my beer. Mullen’s arms are quite hairy and completely covered in black and grey tribal tattoos. Wolf is less hirsute and his more colourful tattoos are a mixture of different designs and styles. Generally, I find body ink extremely ugly, but there’s a green dragon on Wolf’s right bicep that looks particularly well-executed, and I can’t help staring at it. It’s actually rather beautiful…

We watch the football game together, drinking our beers. The builders light up cigar after cigar and the air is thick with blue smoke, but I must have gotten used to it because the smell doesn’t revolt me the way it used to. In fact, I don’t really notice it all that much.

Eventually the game ends and Mullen shuts down the TV and stands up. “I guess it’s time to turn in,” he says. “By the way, we moved some other stuff over here this weekend, including our bed.” He smiles. “We knew you wouldn’t mind…”

“Where have you put everything?” I ask.

Wolf stubs out his cigar in the ashtray and also gets to his feet. “In one of the rooms upstairs…”

We climb the stairs together. The upper floor of the house is fairly unfamiliar to me as I haven’t used any of the rooms up here yet. Mullen and Wolf lead me along the landing to the biggest bedroom. “We’re camping out in here,” Wolf says, opening the door.

Although it’s the largest room in the house, it is packed full of furniture I’ve never seen before, which I can only assume must have come from Mullen and Wolf’s house or apartment. There’s a huge double bed with a night-stand on each side of it, a tall armoire, two matching chests of drawers and an oak chest. They’ve even brought a large rug and a pair of brass bedside lamps… My first thought is that they must have hired a removal van to get all this stuff over here…

“Wow!” This is all I can find to say. The room looks amazing. Even though the walls still need redecorating, it’s easily the nicest room in the house, now…

Mullen smiles. “Quite the home from home, eh?”


Wolf pats my shoulder with one of his meaty hands. “Makes sense for us to make ourselves comfortable while we’re staying here,” he says. For the first time, I notice that he has a bluebird tattooed between his thumb and forefinger. His knuckles have letters across each finger which spell out the word ‘LOVE’.

I’m lost for words. On the few occasions I’ve been up here since I moved in, I imagined it being the bedroom Cassie and I would share once the house is fixed up enough for her to move in with me. After all, according to the real estate-agent, it’s supposed to be the ‘master-bedroom’…

Eventually, I find my tongue. “It looks great…”

Mullen chuckles happily. “Glad you approve. Good night, Timmy… Sleep well…”

A while later, lying in my narrow single bed downstairs, I wonder about the fact that the builders are sharing a double bed together. Could they be a gay couple? They’re both so masculine that the thought has never crossed my mind before, but I’m not naïve enough to think that all homosexuals are effeminate, flaming queens. The fact that they’re sleeping in the same bed makes it almost certain that they’re in a sexual relationship, but I’ve never seen them kiss or even touch each other. I’m kind of tempted to creep upstairs and listen outside their door to see if I can hear any sounds of passion, but dismiss this idea as childish and intrusive.

Instead, I think about Wolf’s tattooed sleeves. Although the ink on his arms and hands all looks as if it was done at different times and he has a complete mixture of themes and styles, it looks real nice. In theory, such a pastiche should be ugly, but somehow the varied designs all work real well together. I picture that bluebird on his hand and suddenly realise that my dick is hard for the first time since last Thursday. I can’t help rather resenting this. Why couldn’t it have been erect like this while I was over at Cassie’s place? Sod’s law… Nevertheless, it feels so great to have a stiffy again that I grab hold of it with my fist and start jacking away. That green dragon appears in my mind’s eye, its eyes glittering and wreathed in cigar smoke. I gasp aloud as I realise I’m already cumming…

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