Country Pleasures by Primula Bond

prove the point he produced a hammer from behind his back and banged it down on the mantelpiece. Sally jumped, but the surprise was followed by a series of thrills up and down her legs.
    â€˜I see you’ve already got the paintbrushes in.’ He gave a dirty laugh.
    Sally gripped the brush tighter, and Maddock looked at her, his mouth stretching into a sly grin.
    â€˜Janie’s doing some decorating. That’s what Ben asked her to do. She hasn’t said anything about any maintenance man. Hasn’t said anything about any man, come to think of it.’
    â€˜Good thing I dropped by then, isn’t it?’
    â€˜You think there’s maintenance needs doing here at the moment?’ she asked, her voice going higher with each sentence. ‘Broken shutters, cracked window frames, that sort of thing?’ She unrolled the jumper off her knees and straightened her legs out so they were splayed in front of her on the sofa. The room was baking.
    â€˜I’m to come in every day while he’s away, Ben says. There’s a lot of storm damage to fix, especially up on the roof, and he wants some trees pruning as well.’
    Sally felt slightly relieved; at least he sounded like the genuine article. ‘I’m sure there’s lots you could do for us, but it’s too late to do anything about it tonight,’she said, realising that his presence was making her feel deliciously vulnerable and quite turned on. There was no point being antisocial. ‘Would you like some more wine before you leave?’ she asked. ‘It’s kind of dull here on my own.’
    â€˜Don’t mind if I do,’ Maddock answered. ‘And I wouldn’t say it was dull here, not at all. Just think yourself lucky my lads weren’t peeping with me. I’d have had to cover their eyes. You town strumpets … no shame!’
    â€˜Come on!’ Sally snorted. ‘I bet you have country strumpets as well. You’ll probably be needing a roll in the hay to cool off after what I showed you.’ She absent-mindedly wound the paintbrush through her messy hair.
    â€˜In this weather?’ he scoffed, approaching Sally and standing over her. ‘You must be joking. We’re not that basic. A roll on Mr Ben’s nice dry hearth-rug would be far more welcome.’
    Sally took a swig from her own glass. ‘In that case, I wonder how town and country would compare?’
    He thumped down on his knees beside Sally and took the paintbrush, shaking it out of her hair. She curled her legs back up again. Her stomach was clenched with excitement. He held the paintbrush up to his face and sniffed it. She could feel the heat beating off him. She would boil if she didn’t rip that jumper off soon.
    â€˜Perhaps we should suck it and see?’ he said.
    â€˜Not sure my friend would like it,’ Sally murmured, glancing out of the window.
    Maddock watched Sally from close quarters for a moment or two, and then his mouth began to split into a grin, slowly, as if it was out of practice. One lower front tooth was missing, which made him look to Sallylike a pantomime villain. Slowly he leaned across Sally’s body and started to run the paintbrush in circles round her stomach. She lay totally still, but her legs grew slack, and her feet flopped lazily between Maddock’s dirty boots.
    â€˜Maybe your friend’s not getting it,’ he teased.
    A wicked laugh bubbled up inside Sally’s throat. ‘But she’ll see us. She’ll be back.’
    â€˜So what. If she’s anything like you, she’ll enjoy the show. I can tell you’re up for it.’
    â€˜I’m always up for it,’ she said, bold as brass.
    â€˜So take the paint brush, and do it.’
    â€˜I’ve had enough of playing with myself,’ Sally whined. Maddock was no oil painting; he was brutish, and looked like a bull about to mount. He was a world away from the pale, besuited men she