Electrical Problem
Story Codes: MF, Consensual,  Exhibitionism, Masturbation

Electrical Problem
By Dorla Moorehouse


Christine pressed the intercom button next to her door. “Who is it?”

“Maintenance. The building manager called in an electrical problem in this unit.”

“Yes, that's correct. I'll buzz you up.”

When she opened the door thirty seconds later, she saw a heavily tattooed man with grease and
paint stains covering his loose clothing.

“Hi, I'm Tom,” he said, holding out his right hand. “I just joined the maintenance crew this week.”

“Nice to meet you. I'm Christine,” she said, reciprocating the handshake.

“So tell me about the problem.”

“Something is wrong with the dishwasher. Whenever I try to run it, there's a power surge and a
brownout.” She led him into the kitchen.

“Okay, I'll get to work.”

“Great. Now if you don't mind, I need to get back to my writing. My office is just in the back. Knock
if you need anything.”

“Thanks, but I should be fine.”

Christine kept the door to her office slightly ajar. She sat back down at the computer, ready to
focus on the article she was preparing to submit to a journal. But after ten minutes of uninspired
typing, she realized her concentration was not in full force. She was starting to feel horny, and
her attention was starting to turn to the sounds of Tom clattering around in her kitchen.

No, not now. I need to finish this article. I'm almost done, and I need to send it out as soon as
possible. I still need another few publications if I want to look good for my tenure review next year.

Christine managed to force herself to work for five more minutes, before she heard Tom turn on
a drill, and she could no longer force herself to deny his presence in her apartment. Her arousal
began to climb out of control. But Christine wasn't in the mood for seduction; she didn't actually
want Tom. Instead, the very fact of his presence awoke in her the combined thrill and fear of
getting caught in the act. She loved any kind of sexual fun that ran the risk of being discovered
by someone who wasn't supposed to see. And now, Christine wanted to masturbate, in hopes
that Tom would find her doing so.

“I shouldn't,” she said to herself. “I need to work. I could have this article out to a journal by
tomorrow afternoon if I just focused.” But then she heard Tom put down the drill and start
fumbling around in his toolbox, and any concentration she had left disappeared. Without even
bothering to close her word processor, she reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a vibrator.

She didn't want to rush into orgasm without giving Tom a chance to catch her. So she started
slow, keeping the vibrator on a low speed at first and just teasing her inner thighs. Christine didn't
even need to make up a fantasy in her head. The fact that a near-stranger was in her apartment
while she was masturbating with her door slightly ajar was almost too much.

Christine turned up the vibrator a little more and started to tease the flesh of her cunt, feeling
herself get warmer and wetter as she listened to Tom work. He was alternating between tools,
occasionally coming back to the drill only occasionally. Soon, she could no longer stay silent. But
she did not want to give away her secret – she did not want Tom to suspect what she was up to
and seek her out. No, she wanted to be discovered accidentally. So she only allowed herself to
moan when she heard the drill going. When Tom was working quietly, she permitted herself only
the softest of groans.

Finally, Christine could not stand teasing herself, and went straight for her clit. In that moment,
she heard Tom packing up his toolbox. She almost lost her drive entirely, realizing that he was
probably just going to leave, and her wish would not come true. But she didn't want to ruin her
climax just because she didn't get everything she wanted. Whether he finds me or not, I'm still
enjoying myself. Her body teetered on the verge of orgasm, but she forced herself to hold back a
little longer – she wanted to wait until she heard him exit her apartment. Christine heard Tom walk
to the door, and in that moment almost let herself give in to the sensation. But then she heard
him turn around and walk across the apartment to her office

He knocked gently on the door, and then pushed it all the way open without giving Christine a
chance to respond.

“All fixed. I just wanted to let you know -”

At the sound of Tom's voice, Christine went over the edge, and screamed with the thrill that
overtook her body.

“Oh – Oh – I – I'm sorry.” Tom turned around and ran, letting himself out of the apartment, and
slamming the door shut.

Christine didn't care that Tom had been embarrassed, that he had not wanted to stay. After all,
she hadn't wanted him to begin with. She was satisfied from getting exactly what she wanted.
Christine went to her kitchen, filled the dishwasher, turned on the machine, and returned to her

Copyright© 2009 Dorla Moorehouse

Dorla Moorehouse is a writer and dancer living in Austin, Texas. Her erotica has previously
appeared at Black Heart Magazine; her poetry has previously appeared at Bolts of Silk and
Gloom Cupboard, and is forthcoming in Wanderings. She is the poetry editor of Gloom Cupboard.