Rae had a a thing for older, burly men. Rae had a thing for men with large hands. Rae had a thing for men who put such hands to use at work. Rae also had a thing for sweaty men.

As it turned out, Rae was either extremely lucky, or extremely unlucky, depending on how one looked at it.

The heatwave had started two weeks ago, and forecasts for its end kept being postponed. After an initial week staying put at home, Rae had decided to restart her habits as close to usual as possible, heat be damned. One such habit was jogging for an hour or so, outside, every other day. The runs were made harder by the temperature, but the shower afterward felt divine and quickly became the carrot at the end of the stick she used to motivate herself to keep up the pace.

The (un)lucky streak came after one such run. Rae came back into the apartment she shared with her best friend completely drenched in sweat and daydreaming about that sweet, sweet bath, only to find she had locked herself out. To make matters worse, her best friend was not in town, and wouldn't return until the heatwave washed by. So no spare key, either.

Talk about bad luck.

A professional locksmith was called.

Half an hour later, Rae was sitting in the stairs leading to the upper floor, watching a man old enough to be her father working on her lock. An older, burly man. A man with big hands. A man who by now was sweating as much as she was, both of them with stains on their clothes with the impossibly stuffy air inside the apartment building.

All the more direct methods of opening a lock had been tried, not that Rae knew any to begin with. She knew nothing and was all out of ideas. Maybe she ought to question the quality of the locksmith in front of her. But with each passing minute, the more she observed his quiet focus, heard his exhasperated sighs, the more drops of sweat dribbled down the sides of his face and stained the back of his shirt, the more she thought that maybe she had misjudged her fortune.

She was so focused on her struggle of trying not to stare at the poor guy and notoriously failing at it, that she barely registered it when her door swung open, he got up, and told her it was done and that she should probably make a duplicate of her key and give the spare to someone trustworthy who lived nearby.

"Uhh, thanks." Great, what a sweeping statement. Must have swooned him. She hadn't even fully processed her feelings, nor tamed her carnal instincts toward this man when her body started skipping ahead and making decisions without running them by her brain first. "Can I offer you a beer? You can take a breather while I fetch the money."

She moved before he could say no, gently but firmly guiding him inside her place and closing the door behind them. Her father always taught her a beer and a minute of conversation went a long way whenever you needed to call a handyman to work on something at your home, a nice gesture to assure the job was well done, or a discount, or a better future connection if need be. She highly doubted, however, that the things her body were begging her to do were in any way related to what her father meant as sympathy.

She did hand him an ice cold beer, and spent the short trip to her bedroom and back - to fetch the money - wondering what exactly she was doing and, maybe more important, how in hell would she explain to her later self what was about to happen. And even more crucial, how was she going to pull it off without being so blunt she scared him off?

Her potential ideas toppled one after the other as she made her way back, dismissed for being too weird, too unlikely to work, too risky. She could almost hear her own heartbeat when she finally stood again in front of him, feeling not an additional ounce of confidence.

Well, I guess I better just say it as it is and hope he doesn't freak out. She scanned him, and her prolonged silence drew some puzzlement on his expression too. Here goes nothing.

"Thank you for waiting Mr...." Rae's eyes flickered to his chest, looking for a nametag, but found nothing. It hit her, then, that was about to offer herself to a man whose name she didn't even know. She cleared her throat, "Here's the money" she placed the bills rolled together on her kitchen table, using the opportunity to step closer to his space, standing right in front of him as he sat on the chair she had offered him. Towering over a man who would easily physically overpower her filled her with some much needed bravado. That, and inhaling his musk.

"I wanted to ask you something that is not related to the job." She could barely hear herself over the drumming of her heartbeat. "This is not me trying to get a discount, it's not a scam, a prank, or anything you might think." Stop stalling, Rae.

"I know this is odd, and that I'm probably half hour age. But I was watching you work and I just... craved you. You're free to say no, of course, maybe it'd be for the better, but I just feel like using your body and offer you mine to use." Her voice was unsteady, but she pushed though the nerves, the fear of rejection, everything. It became easier the more she talked.

"What I'm saying is I'd like to have you now. Sitting on that chair, bent over that table, however you want me to. No strings attached, no tricks. We can both shower afterward and we'll go our separate ways." It felt like a weight was lifted off her chest, but the silence that stretched afterward threatened to carve a pit of newfound anxiety into her stomach.

"So?"

Hello everyone, thank you for reading this far!

First things first, this prompt is written in 3rd person, but I'm just as comfortable writing in 1st person. I don't have a preference.

I believe the prompt is pretty self-explanatory, so I’ll emphasize the details that are most important to me. You’re a guy old enough to be Rae's father, who works as a locksmith, and that job brought you to the doorstep of a girl from a completely different league who is very obviously fawning over you.

I don’t have a particular direction or plot set in stone, and as such I've left a lot of things open regarding both character's backstories, but in my mind, this would play out in a sort of one-off scene in which our characters use each other on their sweaty selves and then go each their merry way. The fact that this is a one-off scene, or that it is quick to get to the sexy part, does not mean that the emotional impact of what is happening should be skimmed over. Your guy is as off-balance as Rae. I want to know how he got to this point, and what he feels throughout the whole thing about what he’s doing. I want to dive into both characters’ minds.

I have a strong preference for opening messages which dive right into the writing. For example, retelling the prompt from the guy's perspective and pushing the action slightly forward, or giving background, or whatever you see fit, even if we then backtrack (and we most likely will) to figure some details out. I know it requires a bit more investment on your behalf, but it's much more important to me that we match in writing styles than in personality or OOC talk.

When it comes to kinks, I'm into big (legal) age gaps, cheating, escalation, teasing, slow burners, oral/vaginal/anal, masturbation, outercourse, grinding, risk of getting caught, risky locations, rough sex, slow sex, etc. They don’t have to be all shoved into the roleplay. I'm particularly fond of attractiveness gaps/odd pairings, so dad-bods, greying hairs, or whatever it is you want that speaks of a guy past his prime and who focused on stuff other than his physique are more than welcome!

My limits are toilet stuff, fisting, beastiality, and extreme pain.

I don't use Reddit chat, only DM's. Looking forward to hearing from you!