By Cutieboy90
“Uhh, are you sure about this?” I asked George for the hundredth time.
George’s scruffy blonde face looked up from the project on his bench. “‘Course I’m sure!” He blew across the surface of the wood, sending a cloud of powdery shavings into the air. “Now I think this’ll do.” He picked up the two blocks from the bench, and walked over to where I stood. I put the sketches down and held my arms out. George placed the blocks over my forearms and inspected the fit.
“Perfect!” He exclaimed. “How does it feel?”
I tried twisting my wrists side-to-side to gauge the clearance. “Yeah, it’s good…” There really wasn’t anything to complain about, no pinching, no tightness.
“Good.” George smiled as he tousled the wood dust out of his hair, and wiped at his brow with a rag. “Well, let’s get you in shall we? Clothes off!”
I began to take my clothes off, George lending an all-too eager hand. I blushed as the back of his hand brushed my skin. I liked George, yes. In fact, I’d always liked him. We’d been friends since we met in high school woodshop. We still made plenty of projects together in his garage-turned-workshop, but nothing quite like this…