Hometime Woodworking
Hometime The air in the Hometime workshop hung thick with the sharp tang of varnish and the sweet burn of vodka. JoAnne and Robbin, the heart and soul of your vintage furniture business, were well into their refinishing ritual, a chaotic dance of intoxication and craftsmanship. The antique table before them, a sturdy oak piece with decades of stories etched into its grain, was their latest project. But the real story was unfolding between the two women, swaying and giggling under the haze of liquor and fumes. JoAnne, her blonde hair spilling messily from her head, wore nothing but denim overall shorts, the straps barely containing her ample curves. One hand was sheathed in a worn leather glove, touching a jar of lacquer with lazy determination, while the other clutched a half-empty bottle of vodka. Her droopy eyelids hid her eyes that sparkled with mischief as she leaned over the table, her bare skin catching the dim glow of the workshop’s overhead light. “Robbin, you’re slacking...
