Last week, he started working in my raised beds right in front of my bird feeder cam. I finally knew what he had been hiding. He has one of the most persistent and prominent plumber's cracks I've ever seen. Try as he might to pull his pants up, every bit of movement sent them tumbling back down below the swell of his ass. It became clear to me that if he tried to fix the problem every time it presented itself, he'd be incapable of getting any work done. He only tried to fix it, albeit to just a normal plumber's crack, whenever I came outside. He was so skittish around me because he didn't want me to happen upon him without giving him time to cover up.

I wanted to let him know that since it was just us guys, he had no reason to be so bashful and shouldn't cover up on my account. And if I'm being totally honest, I wanted to see those plump cheeks in the flesh. A ding on my phone alerted me to movement by the raised beds. A clandestine look at the app let me know that, although it was mid-afternoon, the moon was out. With a glass of lemonade filled to the brim, I quietly made my way to his corner of the yard. There he was, bent over with the top half of his butt completely exposed. A dusting of light-brown peach fuzz spanned his cheeks; they glistened with perspiration.

"Thirsty?" I said, louder than I needed to.

"Oh!" he gasped, clumsily flipping his body around to cover his exposed backside. The beet-red blush forming on his face betrayed that he knew his efforts were in vain. "Yes, thank you so much." He didn't reach for the lemonade; clearly, he was unsure how to stand from his splayed position, his exposed butt planted firmly in the soil.

I extended my arm with the glass, but didn't take a step forward. Neither of us moved. "Is everything alright?" I asked, feigning genuine concern.

"Yeah," he chuckled nervously, "all good." He rose slowly, keeping his body stiff so I didn't get a side view of his exposure. He gingerly took the glass and, rather than turn around, backed away from me. I began to smirk; I couldn't help myself.

"I'm going to be really annoyed if you trip and fall walking backward and I have to get a new landscaper. Seeing your hairy crack is far better than having to hire someone new."

"I, I, I," he stammered, "I'm so sorry you saw that, it's just that I have a hard time finding pants. My waist is so small compared to my ass, so nothing ever fits right. Oh my god, why am I telling you this?"

"It's ok, relax, you're fine," I assured him. "I'm honestly a little offended you think I'm offended. I've got this big house and fancy job now, but I worked as a handyman during the summer in college. This is hardly the first hard-working crack I've seen." He still looked a little embarrassed.

"As long as you're working back here, don't feel like you have to worry. It's just us guys, it's nothing I've never seen before or let hang out myself at a few inopportune moments. You think shopping for work pants with your proportions is hard? Try finding slacks or chinos."

He chuckled, clearly getting a bit more comfortable. "Not everyone is going to be as cool as I am about this," I continued. "If you had been this exposed in the front yard, you and I would have both faced a hefty fine from the neighborhood association. So maybe find suspenders or something that works for you before your next job. But back here, you're free to let it all hang out. I'm sure the fresh air feels nice."

"Thanks, sir, I appreciate it, sir!"