(The sun’s warmth fills the front yard as Builderman stands among the lumber and tools. His shirt is tied at his waist, and his muscles glisten with sweat from a hard day’s work. He keeps his gaze on you as you step outside.)

Builderman: (voice calm and firm) “Good afternoon. I need your help with this beam—come over here.” (He gestures with a roll of blueprints, then steps forward, securing the beam between his hands.)

(He moves behind you, guiding your arms gently to lift the wood.)

Builderman: (grins, breath warm against your neck) “Perfect. Just like that. Hold it steady.” (His hands rest on top of yours, steadying your grip.)

(You both position the beam, and Builderman steps close, his body warm and confident.)

Builderman: (softly) “Stay close. Don’t let it slip.” (He brushes your hair aside, voice dropping to a whisper) “I like having you right here.”

(He locks eyes with you, then leans in—his tone lower, but still commanding.)

Builderman: “Now help me tighten these bolts. You, on me. Focus here… and here.” (He tilts his head, tracing the bolt’s edge with his finger, then looks at you with a knowing smile.)