Melting Point Read online

  Melting Point

  By

  Terry Towers

  Melting Point

  Copyright 2014 by Terry Towers

  Cover by: Erin Dameron-Hill @ edhgraphics.blogspot.ca

  All rights reserved. With the exception of brief quotes used for critical reviews and articles no part of this book may be used or reproduced without the written permission of the author Terry Towers. Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada. Terry Towers can be contacted via her website at www.elixaeverett.com

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via internet or other means, electronic or print without the author's permission. Criminal copyright infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov.ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors imagination and used fictitiously.

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  Chapter 1

  Faith tossed the used stick aside, snatched up another, tightened it up into the welding gun then went back to work. She'd been slaving on the overhead weld for a couple of hours now, but she was almost finished. Finally.

  Currently she was positioned on her back, under a large cylinder, which was suspended in the air a mere two and a half feet above her. She found herself thankful she wasn't claustrophobic. She doubted someone with claustrophobia would last long as a welder. Since she was a female, a petite one at that, she was always the lucky one selected for the shit assignments.

  In truth, it made sense. She couldn't expect a two hundred pound man to squeeze into the tiny areas that some jobs required. Not when her compact body could fit, not comfortably, but fit nonetheless. She’d made peace with the fact that that was how it was going to be for as long as she was in this profession.

  Sparks continued to fly, littering her body, burning into her leather welding jacket.

  "Damn it!" Faith cursed, but refused to flinch and ruin the string of weld as a stray spark happened to worm its way under her helmet and onto the tiny patch of exposed skin the jacket collar failed to cover. It burned for just a moment or two before extinguishing itself.

  "That's going to leave a scar," she murmured as she continued on with her string, not missing a beat.

  "Done," she announced to no one in particular, while flipping up her helmet's visor to get a good look at her work. Setting down the welding gun she examined the weld. "Another great job, beautifully done, Veates," she praised herself.

  She had no doubt the inspector would clear her welds. There were no visual defects. She seriously doubted they would fail any other type of inspection either. She was damned good at what she did; the fact she loved the job was just an added bonus.

  Satisfied, she wriggled her way out from under the massive cylinder, pulling her equipment along with her.

  As she cleared the cylinder she welcomed the fresh spring air. Sitting up and rummaging through her toolbox, she snatched up a plastic bottle of water. Flipping the lid open, she drank deeply, until the bottle was empty. She tossed the empty bottle back into the toolbox and looked around. Many of the men were already finished with their tasks for the day, but were not permitted to leave until the end-of-day inspections. As a result, they would spend roughly the last half hour of their shift lounging around until five o'clock hit.

  Five o'clock. Quitting time.

  As she gathered up her equipment, she could feel a presence behind her. Turning around she looked up to see Brian Underwood standing nearby. While most of the men were fine with her working there – many even welcomed her with open arms – Brian was an entirely different issue altogether. It was a male-only company before she’d arrived, and he had liked it that way. He wasn't shy about making that known either.

  He was what people commonly referred to as a “man's man.” The majority of the men working with United Welding looked up to him. He was the bachelor of the company who always had some wild, raunchy sex story to share. She would have bet money most of his stories were works of fiction. The way he talked, a person would be led to believe that he had dozens, correction hundreds, of women lined up just begging to be banged by him.

  "It's about time you got finished – thought we'd be stuck here all weekend waiting for you to finish up," he commented with a smirk. He said it as a joke, but there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. The look told her that he felt she didn't belong there.

  Condescending dickwad, was Faith's mental response. What she said aloud was simply, "Taking the extra time to do a job right means it won't have to be redone."

  He paused, started to say something, stopped himself, turned and walked off in the direction of a group of men – the same men she’d noticed earlier lounging around one of the company's pick-up trucks.

  She was almost finished packing her equipment up, when she felt someone else behind her. With an exhausted sigh, she spun around to come face to face with the new guy. Trent, she believed his name was.

  She couldn't help herself from looking him up and down. He was a solid foot taller than her, with dark hair and eyes. She had to admire his strong build. She also found her eyes lingering over his broad shoulders, covered with a tight-fitting, red t-shirt with United Welding printed across the front in bold white letters. His powerful thighs were clad in faded blue jeans. When her gaze finally reached his face, she noticed it had grown a couple of shades redder. His lips wore a slightly embarrassed smile. Evidently he hadn't missed her blatant evaluation of him.

  Perhaps I'm picking up some of the guys’ undesirable habits? she mused. The inability to ogle discreetly. Before I know it I’ll be belching and farting in public, if I don’t watch myself. Okay, maybe it won’t get that bad.

  "Don't pay any mind to my brother, he was born an asshole."

  She smiled weakly, feeling a blush color her fair skin. "I never do. Won't start now."

  "I'm Trent, by the way," he said, extending his hand to her.

  "Faith," she responded with a smile.

  Pulling her welding gloves off and tossing them into her toolbox she took his hand. His handshake was firm and seemed to linger just that extra moment longer. As he pulled his hand away she felt a stirring in her stomach. The stirring demanded more of his touch, but she pushed it down deep and with force. Faith wasn't about to break one of her cardinal rules for any man, regardless of how attracted she seemed to be to him.

  The cardinal rule was simple. Never, ever get involved with the men you work with. Ever. If you did you were simply begging for trouble.

  Been there, done that, won't be doing it again. Being the interloper was one thing. Being that interloper who slept around was a dozen times worse.

  They continued watching each other, sharing a tense, awkward moment, before he gave her a final smile, nodded and sauntered off. She watched as he walked away, paying close attention to his sexy, tight ass under the denim.

  She had just finished packing up her things and was in the process of removing the elastic from her sweat- and dirt-filled shoulder-length, chocolate brown hair when she heard the foreman’s announcement for everyone to be ready for inspections of their work. Brian had been the one working closest to her, a mere few yards away. Quickly he manned his station. He could have been on the other end of the work sit
e and it would still have been too close for her liking.

  She watched as the inspector went from person to person ensuring that everyone's welds were up to code. He inspected Brian's work directly before Faith’s. Even though she tried not to look or eavesdrop, she couldn't help herself. She wasn't close enough to him to hear everything, but she was able to hear him being told his work was horseshit and he would need to gouge it out and redo it first thing Monday morning.

  Serves the asshole right for rushing through his work then having the balls to ridicule me.

  Faith found that she was smiling despite herself, so she looked away for fear Brian would notice she had heard what the inspector had said.

  Head down, eyes straight ahead.

  She was next.

  The inspector was a small, pudgy man, perhaps an inch or two taller than her 5'2. He wore thick, black, horn-rimmed glasses. She watched as he visually inspected her work, making notes on the pad he carried with him. He was one of the few men on the site who didn’t seem to take notice of the fact she was a woman.

  "Visually, it looks sound," he mumbled, more to himself than to her. He dug into his case of inspection goodies, and proceeded to do a couple more tests to verify his visual diagnosis.

  Once done he stood next to her, eyeing it a final time. She had noticed several of the men, including Brian and Trent, were now standing within earshot of her and the inspector. Unlike her, they weren't even attempting to pretend not to listen in.

  The only thing she hated worse than inspections were inspections with an audience.

  The inspector turned to Faith, nodded and stated flatly, "Perfection, if I have ever seen it. Have a good weekend." Without waiting for a response the inspector walked away from her, heading toward the next welder on his list.

  She knew it was a terrific job so the verdict wasn't a shock to her. However, even after working as a welder for close to ten years now, she still felt good when she was told she’d done a job well. With a smile on her face, she picked up her equipment and headed toward the direction of the parking lot.

  As she passed by Brian she heard him talking with the other men who were now standing in a circle with him. She tried to tune out their conversation but one part filtered through loud and clear, "...course he said it was perfection, she has a pussy, doesn't she?"

  Faith fought the urge to turn back and confront Brian. Instead, she continued to walk briskly, increasing her speed slightly.

  Don’t confront him, don’t give him the satisfaction, she coached herself. I know the truth and that’s all that matters.

  She just wanted out of there for the day, and now!

  "Faith, wait." As she brushed past Trent, he attempted to stop her, taking hold of her upper arm.

  She pulled her arm from his grasp without so much as turning or offering the courtesy of looking in his direction. "I'll see you Monday."

  Without another word to anyone she exited the job site.

  ****

  Trent watched as Faith marched off the job site and headed for her navy half-ton. She was upset and looking over at his older brother grouped up with a number of his buddies, Trent had a pretty good idea why.

  "Asshole," he muttered under his breath as he stormed over to Brian.

  "Trent. Glad you’re here, I wanted to introduce you to a few of the guys." Brian smiled warmly at his brother as he motioned for Trent to join the group.

  "What did you say to her, Brian?" He wasn’t in the mood to beat around the bush with Brian and couldn’t care less about his idiot buddies. Having grown up with Brian, he knew without meeting the men that if they were friends of his brother’s, then they were not people he had any interest in knowing.

  "Who?" Brian asked, frowning.

  "Do you really need to be such an asshole all the time, Brian?" Folding his arms across his chest Trent waited for his older brother's response.

  Brian snapped his fingers and his face lit up. "Oh, you mean what I said about Faith?"

  "Yah. What exactly did you say?" He had a pretty good idea, but still wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth.

  "I don't know, something about the inspector passing her work because she's got a cunt," Brian replied in a nonchalant manner. A couple of the men in the group snickered. Trent shot them all a dirty look.

  "I didn't mean anything by it. We were just kidding. Messing around. She didn't even hear me." He waved a hand in Trent's direction, dismissing the subject from his mind. "Let me introduce you to some of the guys."

  "Why are you such a dick?" Trent cut him off before he could get to the first introduction.

  "What is the problem now?" As far as Brian was concerned the issue was buried.

  With a shake of his head Trent turned and strode off toward the parking lot. He'd had enough of Brian for one day. He knew he should never have taken a job working with his brother. Their whole lives they had never gotten along, why would it change now?

  ****

  Faith had barely made it through the front door of her apartment when the telephone started ringing. Sprinting through the kitchen, still wearing her soot-covered, steel-toed work boots, she grabbed the telephone up on the fifth ring.

  "Hello."

  "What's wrong with you? You sound out of breath." It was Sophia, her closest friend of twenty years, give or take. They’d met when Sophia moved into her family’s neighbourhood. Faith was eight years old at the time.

  "I just got in the door," Faith replied. She cushioned the receiver between her shoulder and ear as she bent over and unlaced her left work boot.

  "Well, be ready by eight, we're going to that new bar that just opened up."

  Faith finished unlacing the left boot, kicked it off and began on the right.

  "What new club?" She was not in the mood tonight to go out. All she wanted to do was grab a nice hot bath, put on some soft music and relax with a good book. But she never could say no, especially to Sophia.

  "Genesis, I believe they are calling it."

  Faith sighed, "Fine, I'll be ready for nine."

  "Nine? No, I said eight."

  Faith began to unlace the second boot. "I know what you said, which is why I'll be expecting you for nine."

  "Ouch, aren't we the pessimist today?"

  "If you’d had my day, Sophia, then you would be too. Goodbye."

  "K, bye. Remember... eight." Sophia emphasized eight once again. Seconds later her end of the line went dead.

  Perhaps I do need a night out, Faith thought as she placed the receiver back on the cradle. Pulling off the second boot, she tossed it carelessly to the floor. She'd deal with putting it away properly later on.

  She removed her clothing as she made her way to the bathroom, tossing the garments to the floor as she walked. As she passed through the living room she stopped briefly to switch on the stereo. She turned it up just loud enough that she would be able to hear the jazz music once she was in the bathroom.

  I need to get laid, she thought as she entered the bathroom. She leaned across the bathtub and turned on the faucets. What had it been? Three months? Four? She dared not think about it for fear of depressing herself.

  Working with men and seeing them on their worst behaviour wasn’t making dating very appealing. It always baffled her how they acted one way when with a girlfriend, but became complete douches when showing off for buddies.

  Shrugging off the remaining pieces of her clothing she proceeded to step delicately into the tub, testing it with her toe first to ensure it wasn't too hot. Satisfied with the temperature she stepped all the way in and sat down, allowing the bubbles to surround her. She submerged herself until the only thing visible of her was her head.

  Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes and rested her head against the inflated bath pillow that was secured against the wall. Breathing in deeply she basked in the sweet aroma of roses and lavender; bubble bath, oils and jazz music, all relaxation must-haves.

  Her mind drifted back to her body’s unfilled need. She no
dded to herself; she needed to get laid, and soon.

  All work and no play, her mind taunted.

  "Isn't that the truth," she whispered into the air.

  Humming along with the music, she let her mind wander and it brought her to images of Trent.

  Trent. The new welder with the company. Brother of the dickwad Brian, although he didn't seem to be like Brian. Maybe assholedom didn't run in the family?

  He's just being nice to you because he wants to fuck you, her mind warned. Then he’ll gloat to all our co-workers about how he scored with the ice queen.

  Perhaps, but what if he didn’t? Besides, she wasn't sure if that would be such a bad thing at this moment. The warming between her legs agreed it wouldn't be.

  Faith thought back to her meeting with him a few hours earlier. He was sexy, she'd give him that. She loved large, powerful, well-built men, and he was indeed all those things.

  She began to visualize what he would look like naked and became aroused with what she saw in her mind's eye.

  Her hand glided through the warm bath water and found the aching spot between her legs. She spread her legs wide, allowing her hand access to her pussy. Her fingers separated the lips of her pussy, exposing her sensitive clit.

  She imagined what it would be like to pull that red t-shirt up over his head and toss it to the floor. She would caress his smooth, muscular chest and shoulders, while trailing kisses along his collarbone and neck.

  While her thumb stroked her clit, her fingers plunged deep inside her. She moaned as her fingers hit, then began to stroke her G-spot. She'd become a self-proclaimed master of masturbation these past few months. With slow, fluid motions she teased her clit, while stroking her pussy wall.

  Her free hand came up and began to play with one of her nipples, pinching and rolling it between her fingers, turning it into a hardened peak. She continued to pleasure herself, fucking the hand that stroked her so masterfully, using Trent as her inspiration. As she stroked and teased she continued to imagine him positioned between her legs, his hand replacing hers in her mind.