by Penny Wylder
The reality of the situation hits me: James said it was a bad idea, and it is. If my mother had seen me, if my father had wondered why I’d come inside in a bathing suit but not seen me in the pool, if one of the house staff had come in to get the laundry, since we didn’t lock the door. Oh god. We were incredibly lucky, and I wanted him so much that I didn’t really think it through.
I wanted to piss off my dad by hitting on James, but if he found me fucking one of the hired help, it would be a catastrophic event of biblical proportions. He’d be furious at me for ruining his perfect reputation, for doing something that could jeopardize his business. That’s rule number one. Never do anything that endangers the business. I’d never get a job in architecture. One word from him, and no one would touch my resume with a ten-foot pole. I don’t know if he’d be so angry that he’d kick me out or disown me, but the way my father’s been acting lately I wouldn’t count it out.
By the time I reach my room I’m hyperventilating, my body humming with panic. I can’t sleep with James again. There’s too much at stake for me to risk it for sex. Amazing sex. Mind-blowing sex. Get it together and stop thinking about the sex, Vera. My body tenses, and the thought of not being with James again sends a pang of unhappiness through me.
But it doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. I get in the shower and I make sure that the water is scalding. The heat reminds me of James’s skin, and the water running down my body reminds me of the way he looked at me in the pool. Just the thought of that look and my body reacts, getting wet and ready for the pleasure it now associates with it.
No. This has to stop—I can’t get carried away every time I think about him. If I let myself go there I’ll never be able to stay away. I find my rattiest comfy clothes, hoping that dressing in the least sexy thing I own will be at least a little bit of a mental barrier. I have plenty to do without this distracting me. I have to look for new places to apply. I have to work on my ELIH—Efficiency Low-Income Housing—project. I have to find a way to make sure I don’t have to go to work for my father.
But as soon as I sit down at my desk, I feel it—the not unpleasant soreness of muscles I haven’t used in a while, the lack of tension in my body in the aftermath of bliss. I remember the feel of his hands on me, his mouth on my breasts. I can only imagine what his mouth would feel like other places. I realize that my eyes are closed, and I’m both reliving and adding on what might be. Snap out of it, Vera.
I bury myself in the internet. I hit every place I know looking for job openings, but when you’ve been looking in the same places for three months, you can pretty much tell when there’s nothing new. It still takes forever—hours. I even check resources that would take me out of the state. I even check ones that would take me out of the country.
I do find one new prospect, and it looks promising, so I submit my resume. It’s a simple application in comparison to some of the other ones I’ve put in the last few weeks, but that’s fine with me. I shut my computer and move over to my drafting table.
On the way I catch sight of my bikini where I abandoned it on the bed, and my mind is immediately back in the pool house where James is untying it. I feel hot in my clothes, like just the memory of his fingers inside me is enough to raise my body temperature. I grab the bikini and chuck it into the closet. Out of sight, out of mind, right?
I focus on the ELIH project that I’ve started. I’m trying to balance cost-effective materials and quality of life. I want to find a way for the buildings to afford the same space and comforts as any other house. But I’m also trying to cut the building and labor cost so that people with smaller incomes can afford to actually own their houses. I’ve even made sure to include space in these plans for a small garden area.
I hear James’s voice in my head, telling me he’d like to explore my garden further. God, how hot would it be if he took me in the garden? Surrounded by flowers and sun and sky. I can’t say I don’t want that.
Damn it.
This clearly isn’t working. I’m never going to get any work done on this if just looking at the plans makes me think about him. Anger at my body and brain rises up—I mean it was good, but was it really that good? It hasn’t been so long since I’ve had actual and good sex that I need to sit here and crave it. It was good. Fine, great. But I can move on. There are more important things than my sex life.
I get into bed and flip off my light, forcing myself to relax, to sleep. I’m starting to drift off when the memory of him finishing on me floods my mind, hard and strong. I groan into my pillow. Fine. It was amazing. It was—no pun intended—fucking amazing. I can admit that, and I still have to say no to sleeping with him again.
But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and he never has to know just how hot and bothered he makes me.
I slide my hand inside my underwear and I’m already so wet that my fingers slip across my clit. I brush my other hand across my breasts, remembering how he pulled me against him using only my nipples. My hips jerk against my hand as I dip my fingers inside myself. I can see his face filled with lust, feel his body hovering over mine, and imagine that his fingers are inside of me instead of my own. The feeling of his cock plunging inside me comes back, vividly. My thumb circles my clit as I remember him stretching me out and filling me up over and over.
I move my fingers faster and I’m grinding against my hand as the pleasure of this moment and my memories combine. There’s an orgasm rising inside me, and my first instinct is to slow down. I want to let it pour over me slowly, savoring every second. But I know with a deep certainty that if James were here he wouldn’t stop. James would not stop if he were fucking me, relentlessly, until I come. Once again I imagine it’s his hand, and he doesn’t give me a break. I can feel his lips at my ear, whispering the dirty things he’s going to do once I finish. My fingers are moving faster and deeper and I’m breathless, hovering on the edge of pleasure.
I imagine his lips running along my skin—down my throat and along my breasts. My thumb slides across my clit, and I imagine it’s his. He tells me to come, demands it, and I do. My hips arch off the bed and the pleasure rolls from my pussy up my body and through my breasts. I tease myself a moment longer, trying to make the feeling last.
Pulling my hand away from myself I stare at the ceiling. He’s here for an entire week. How am I supposed to make it through six more days, knowing what’s under those clothes? Knowing exactly how he can make me feel?
Seeing him tomorrow is going to be torture.
6
James
I drop onto my couch, utterly exhausted. I’m dirty and need a shower, but I don’t think I can move right now. I probably shouldn’t have stayed at the construction site as late as I did, but every bit I can do on the Mastersons’s house is a little bit less we’re behind next week. I know better than anyone that the faster a house like this is finished, the better. The Mastersons need this house, and they need it now.
The fact that I had to delay construction at all doesn’t sit well in my gut, but I didn’t feel like I had a choice. Mike was in a desperate situation, and I’m too familiar with desperate situations to not help. Besides, if I hadn’t delayed or taken the job I wouldn’t have met Vera.
Vera Caldwell.
Just thinking about her name makes my cock stir in my pants. I can’t remember a time when I’ve had such a visceral reaction to someone. And being inside her…god. The decision to fuck her was probably stupid as all hell, but I can’t say that I regret it. Everything about being with her was better than I had imagined or expected.
I get up and head to the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes on the way. The shower is hot, and I force myself to wait until I’m under the stream before I let the memory flood me. I wrap my fingers around myself and squeeze, starting off with slow strokes as the images pour through my brain. Watching her lick my cock, seeing her dare to put her mouth on my balls, feeling her ass bounce against me as I fucked her into the window. My cock is rock hard in my hand and I
let the memory play out as I increase my speed. In my mind’s eye I watch her eat hot cum off my fingers as I stroke myself to the finish. My balls tighten, drawing pleasure up from my toes and I can’t stop myself from groaning as I climax over my hand. I’m glad that I live alone.
I lean against the wall of the shower, spent again, but it’s not enough. I want her again, and not just sexually. She’s intriguing, and I want to get to know her. All of her. I want to put my tongue inside her and fuck her senseless, and then ask her all the get-to-know-you questions. I want to spend some time with her in a place where I’m not wearing a uniform. No matter what I think about, I’m filled with a consuming desire to be near her.
I shake my head to clear it, turning off the shower. Things like this don’t happen. No one can make a connection that fast—not one that’s real. But still, I remember that moment when I turned and saw her. She was ready to spit fire at me and I didn’t care because something reached inside me and pulled.
I grab my phone and check the time. Ten-thirty. I wonder what she’s doing right now.
More to the point, I wonder if she’s thinking about me. If she’s touched herself wishing I was there instead of her fingers. My cock likes that thought too much, and I feel myself hardening again. It’s like my body is insatiable when it comes to her. I pull on some clothes, trying to ignore the instinct to fall into my memories again.
My phone chimes with an incoming text, and I try to ignore the pang of disappointment when it’s not from Vera. Which is ridiculous, since she doesn’t even have my number. No, the text is from Mike:
Was the job okay today?
Was it okay? Okay is a fucking understatement. I type out my response:
It was great. I’m going to pummel you the next time I see you for not warning me how hot Vera was.
I see the little bubbles pop up and down as he types:
I did warn you.
I laugh before replying:
Not enough. How’s your dad holding up?
Good. We go in the morning for the surgery. Should have a clearer picture of how things look tomorrow night.
Mike’s father has heart problems, and last week he went into cardiac arrest. I guess what the problem is can be fixed surgically, or at least they hope. That’s the reason I took the job at the Caldwells’s in the first place. I try not to take landscaping or caretaker jobs during my construction contracts, but this couldn’t be helped. Mike didn’t want to lose his spot working their property—they’re generous with their employees—so I agreed to fill in for him.
Tell him hello for me, and keep me posted.
Again the bouncing text bubbles.
Will do. And thanks again for doing this.
No problem.
Another wave of tiredness washes over me, and I set my alarm before falling into bed. I need to sleep if I’m going to keep this schedule all week. Of course, the man in me is saying I need sleep so I can have as much energy as possible for Vera. I laugh as I turn out the light. She’s certainly a contradiction: a rich and spoiled heiress who works in her own garden and wants to do humanitarian work. She’s brazen as hell but I also think she might be hiding something. And I’m going to find out what that is.
In my mind’s eye I see her spread out in front of me, back arching as I taste her neck. She tastes amazing. My mind spins outward, imagining the things I could do to her if she was in my bed. I would plunge myself deep inside her, not letting her come until she begged. I would take her ass for the first time, listening to her moan as she felt me claim something no one else had ever touched.
My cock is in my hand again, and I’m squeezing it, stroking it. I imagine the silk tightness of being buried in her ass. I hear the sounds she’ll make as she asks me to fuck her harder, and harder, and I imagine the sensation of coming deep inside her. I can see it leaking out slowly. My body tightens, and I’m so close again. My hips are straining off the mattress. My imagination isn’t done with me yet as I see her use her mouth on me, sucking my cock clean. I groan as I fall into the white-hot brightness of my orgasm. Pleasure shoots through me from my balls to my brain, and I keep stroking myself as the grip of the orgasm fades. I savor it until it’s completely gone.
Earlier today I said that I didn’t need any entanglements. I sure fucked that one up. I am very, very entangled.
7
Vera
Finally! Some good news.
I took full advantage of my joblessness this morning and slept in. I’m glad I did, because while I was sleeping I got an email from the Harrison Foundation—the place I applied to last night. They read my resume overnight, loved it, and want an interview the day after tomorrow! I dance around my room like there are clouds under my feet. The weightlessness is freeing and I feel like I can conquer the world. This is a far better morning than yesterday.
I read the email again. They want me to come interview with them, and if everything goes well they’ll show me one of their work sites. I email them back, confirming that I would love—love love love—to meet with them. I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up, but screw it. Hope is awesome. Hopefully this will be exactly what I need to shove all my father’s ‘I-told-you-so’s back in his face.
I spend some time digging into the Harrison Foundation, and I like what I find. They do have high-end clients, but they also specialize in helping displaced families build homes. That’s so up my alley it’s not even funny. I can see myself working for them so clearly, the feeling settling in my chest. I want that.
I suddenly start to get ideas. I pin a new piece of paper to my drafting table and begin to sketch. It’s rare that it happens like this, where I just sit and sketch without thinking endlessly first. Architecture doesn’t come easily to me, so I know when moments like this happen they have to be taken advantage of. My hands don’t stop. I’m not just drawing things for ELIH, but everything from new archways to stairways. Whatever pops into my head is what I put down. I do work on several variations of the ELIH house, changing and perfecting. I think I like the new version even better than the one I had been working with.
My stomach growls when I come out of my haze of inspiration. I look at the clock and am absolutely shocked to see that it’s three o’clock in the afternoon. Wow. No wonder I’m hungry. I put on clothes that aren’t pajamas. If either of my parents sees me in pajamas at this time of the day there will be hell to pay.
Thankfully no one is in the kitchen as I rummage around in the fridge and make myself a sandwich. My mother would probably prefer I called one of the staff to do it for me—or better yet, make me an actual gourmet meal—but I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself. A flash of blue catches my eye and my stomach drops through the floor. James is outside on the patio, just starting to skim the pool.
My good news and my frenzy kept me from thinking about him, but everything floods through me now. Desire is the first thing that I feel, and then resolve. I have an interview coming up, so now I have even more reason to say no to more sex. But, my mind whispers, there’s no harm in just talking. So before I know it I’m carrying my plate out to the patio and the table. James is facing away from me, and I sit down at the table without saying anything. I’ll wait for him to notice me while I watch his fantastic ass. If I’m not allowed to touch him anymore, I’m definitely not keeping myself from looking.
I set my drink down on the table and the noise catches his attention. As soon as he sees me his face breaks into what might be the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. “Hey there.”
“Hi.”
“I hoped I would see you earlier,” he says, fishing out some leaves.
I take a bite of my sandwich, and speak through it. It’s totally unladylike. I’m hungry enough that I don’t care. “I was working—I got this burst of inspiration, and I kind of forgot to eat.”
He laughs. “Well I think we can agree that that’s important.”
There’s a moment of silence as I eat and he works his way around the edge of the pool. When he’s clos
er to me he says, “I thought about you last night.”
“Really?” I say casually, not sure if he means that he thought about me, or he thought about me. Suddenly he strips out of his shirt, and I’m not sure if I’m breathing.
“Yes,” he says with equal casualness. “Twice, actually.”
Oh god. An image pops into my mind of James touching himself, my name on his lips as he spills over. I feel myself blush, and have to take a sip of my water to compose myself. Then he asks, “Did you think about me, too?” and I try very hard not to choke.
My mother chooses that moment to poke her head out of the patio door. “Vera.”
“Yes?” I say, trying to breathe.
“Your father has clients coming over for dinner. They’ll be here at six. Please make sure you look nice.”
I roll my eyes.
“And make sure you don’t do that. It’s not polite.”
“Yeah, I know.”
She looks between me and James—who has gone back to cleaning the pool—and gives me a long stare. I know that look; it’s a look that says ‘don’t you dare.’ I pointedly roll my eyes at her again, and she shakes her head and goes back inside. She would come outside right at that moment.
James is looking at me again, and I realize that I have to tell him. I have to, but I don’t want to. Neither of us speak though, aware that my mother is probably observing us. I finish my sandwich. I finish my water. Now I’m just sitting and watching him work.
Okay fine, I’m looking at his body. I am the utter cliché. I’m looking at my pretty pool boy, and I’ve already fucked him.
James puts down the skimmer. “Miss Caldwell, would you be so kind as to accompany me to your garden? I have a question about its care I’d like to ask you.”
What? He knows that I don’t want him to take care of my garden. I raise an eyebrow at him, but say, “Sure.”
