Free Quake by Richard Laymon

into the crawlspace underneath the house, just as Sheila had told him. The rim of the tub seemed to be about two feet lower than the floor. And she was lower still, at the bottom of the tub. Most of the scrap was jumbled atop the tub like a roof. As Stanley carried it away, she came into view a part at a time. First a foot, then a knee, next a shoulder.
        She was a wondrous jigsaw puzzle being assembled by Stanley, growing piece by piece as he removed the debris that concealed her. A thigh, a hand tucked between her legs, her chin, a breast partly covered by a forearm. Sunlit parts, dirty, powdered with dust, strewed with flakes and crumbs of wood and plaster. Stanley wondered why she hadn't brushed some of the litter off her skin. Maybe she appreciated the coating. Maybe it gave her the feeling that she wasn't totally naked. Only when he worked near the foot of the tub could he see her face. From every other location, it was hidden beneath a wooden four-by-eight beam that lay across the far end of the tub like a wide, thick shelf. He wondered how much she could see of him. When can't see her eyes, she can't see mine. Still, just to be on the safe side, he took only small glimpses of Sheila. He tried not to stare. And he made small talk. 'We'll have you out in a jiffy, now… That one was heavier than it looked… I'm getting a pretty good workout here.' Talking as if he hadn't particularly noticed - or didn't care - that she was sprawled out naked below him.
        She talked, too, as if unconcerned by her nudity. But she kept the hand between her legs and the arm across her breasts.
        Stanley needed both hands for his work, so he couldn't use one to hide the jutting front of his pajama bottoms. Most of the time, however, he was bent over or crouching. Maybe she hadn't noticed the bulge.
        She might have noticed, though. Maybe it turns her on. Stanley had a sudden urge to pop open the snaps of his fly. Give her a good look. No. She might start yelling, and maybe somebody would come along to investigate… Just keep it all normal and friendly, he told himself. Wait until just the right time.
        Soon, Sheila was clear. Except for the beams. Stanley had saved them for last, knowing they would give him the most trouble. Four-by-eights, both of them. He guessed they must be support beams that had broken and shifted under the house's floor. One lay across the far end of the tub, above Sheila's face. The other was jammed into the tub, braced up by the edge to her right, slanting downward and shoved tight against the left side. From its position, it looked as if it should've chopped off Sheila's left leg at the thigh. But she must have kicked upward in the nick of time. Flat on her back, she had the beam between her legs - on top of her right, under her left. The knuckles of the hand covering herself down there were less than half an inch from its rough wood surface. Stanley supposed he probably could lift or shove the beams out of the way. If he got down and stood on the rim of the tub and really worked at it. Moving them, however, might not be necessary. He got to his hands and knees above Sheila's right hip. From there, he had a pretty good view of her. He hunched down so that he could see more of her face - chin, lips, the tip of her nose.
        'Do you think you can work yourself out of there now?' he asked.
        'I'll try.'
        She raised her left leg off the beam. Keeping it high, she placed both hands on the beam. Her arms, nearly straight, pressed her breasts together. She pushed. Her skin suddenly writhed over flexing muscles and she slid toward the rear of the tub. But only a bit. An inch. Maybe two. Then the top of her head thumped the underside of the other beam. She winced. Her muscles unbunched and she let herself slide back down a bit.
        'You okay?' Stanley asked.
        'Yeah, it just…'
        'I should've warned you.'
        'I knew it was there. Just didn't