Woman in Hot Water [Wet and Willing 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Berengaria Brown

  Jordan leaned over and kissed him, then patted his shoulder. “I’m off to crunch some numbers. I’ll see you for lunch at one then?”

  “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

  Osborne watched Jordan leave, then sat in his chair and thought. Did he really not learn people’s names because he didn’t care about them? If so, he needed to shape up. Surely he could remember this new woman’s name. Cathy? Katy? Carol? Something like that. It’d come to him. He pulled a pile of paperwork in front of him and concentrated on it.

  * * * *

  Kendra was going to have a huge bruise on her right thigh. She kept pinching herself to try to believe she had a real job at last. A. Real. Job. Where she sat at a desk, with a phone, and a computer, and everything.

  Luckily for her the computer had already been booted up and the previous woman had logged in because no one had bothered to tell her the passwords, or even what to do. But thanks to “search” she’d found the booking schedule, which was the question she was most often asked. The phone calls all went, “Hi, this is Name. When am I rostered on for Activity?” After the first two or three, she kept a note of their e-mail addresses and promised to e-mail the new roster out to them each week.

  By eight o’clock there was a continuous stream of people to her door all asking much the same question. She got them to write down their e-mail address while she looked up their shifts. Interspersed with these people were frantic comments from other staff saying, “We’re almost out of toilet paper. You’d better order more.” “I just opened the last packet of diving wristbands. You need to order more.” “The candy machine is broken. Can you phone the tech to fix it?”

  Between phone calls and visitors, she used “search” a few more times and located the name of the tech, who promised to come out “today.” Then she found an order form template and a bunch of previous orders for various things, from which she managed to type and print off an order for everything she’d been asked for, except the toilet paper. Did they just get that from Walmart or something? If Mr. Osborne ever came out of his office, she’d get him to sign the orders so she could scan them and e-mail them to the suppliers and ask him about the toilet paper. Or should she maybe phone the orders through and send the pdfs when they were done? It would have been nice for him to tell her something about the way he liked things done. Oh, well, sooner or later he’d emerge to ask her to get him a coffee or something. Actually, he’d probably want an apple and a health drink. This was the Aquatic Center after all.

  The very thought of an apple and a coffee made her stomach rumble. She hadn’t had breakfast since the gym-trial pass ran out, but her belly hadn’t gotten the message yet. It was after ten, and she was hungry. Hopefully around twelve or twelve thirty she could break for lunch. Her stomach would just have to shut up until then.

  The constant stream of people eased off around eleven, and she typed in the staff e-mail addresses. Most of them were already in the system, and she made an e-mail group so she could send the rosters out to everyone in the group. Then she wondered if perhaps the rosters were secret, and she could only tell each person their own shifts. Dammit, she needed to speak to the boss.

  Kendra wrote a list of the questions she need to ask, picked up the orders she’d prepared, and determinedly knocked on his door.

  “What?”

  It wasn’t exactly “Come in,” but she’d take what she could get. She opened the door and stood in the entry, waiting for him to look up and acknowledge her.

  “Yes?” he asked impatiently.

  She walked quickly over to his desk and placed the papers in front of him. “These are the things your staff need. I’ve written up orders for them. Should I phone through the orders now or wait until you’ve signed them, then scan them and e-mail the pdfs?”

  He stared at her. Now what’ve I done wrong?

  She rushed on. “With the staff rosters, should I just e-mail people their own shifts, or is it fine to send the entire roster to everyone? And I couldn’t find out where you order the toilet paper from. Do I simply drive down to Walmart and buy some?”

  “The roster is supposed to be pinned up in the break room, so it’s okay to send the whole thing to everyone. Someone should have thought of e-mailing it to the staff ages ago. The toilet paper comes from the same people who do paper towels and soap and stuff. You can phone the order through first for anything we ordinarily get. If it’s something new, ask me first.” He bent and scribbled his signature on the pile of papers, quickly glancing at the suppliers and quantities of items as he did.

  “I’ll print out a roster and put it in the break room. Where is the break room? How long do I get for lunch, and at what time should I take it?”

  “You get half an hour and need to be back at one, so you can answer the phone when I go for lunch. The break room is at the end of the hallway.”

  He looked down at his own papers again, and Kendra figured that was dismissal, so she picked up the signed papers and left, shutting the door silently behind herself. She needed to get a move on if she was to have lunch and be back by one.

  She printed off the roster, then grabbed some duct tape and hurried out to the break room. The roster on the wall there was two weeks old. No wonder everyone wanted to know their shifts. She glanced quickly around the room, noticing the microwave oven, a toaster oven, and a boiling water unit. Oh good. She’d be able to cook her evening meal here and eat something hot and cheap. Excellent. Even instant noodles sounded good after eating peanut butter sandwiches the past two evenings for her supper.

  Just before one o’clock, the man who’d been in to visit with Mr. Osborne early that morning was back. Jordan, he’d said his name was. “Hi, Kendra,” he said and walked into the inner office.

  He wasn’t bad-looking either. Mr. Osborne was tall, broad shouldered, and heavily muscled. Jordan was tall, too, but lean, wiry, and blond. He smiled and looked happy though. Mr. Osborne seemed a little on the grumpy side.

  As long as she got paid, that was all she cared about. A week’s trial then she would have this job and could get an apartment. Only a few more days of sleeping in her car. Besides, now she was working here she wouldn’t have to pay the entry fee to use the showers, and with that saving, she could spend a little more of her carefully hoarded money on gas and food. Even having a place to legitimately leave her car all day long was wonderful. Up until now she’d had to remember to move it every three or four hours during the day. From the mall, to the cinema, to the sports stadium. Any large parking lot that didn’t require her to pay to park there.

  Night time places to park were even harder to find. People would notice if she parked in a street with houses, and a lot of places drivers had to take a ticket and pay, which she really didn’t want to do. Like the airport. That would have been the perfect place to spend time with showers, electrical outlets, and all sorts of free activities. But the parking costs were wicked. She’d stay here late tonight, as late as she could, then drive to the farthest mall in the area. She’d avoided it for the past few days to save gas, so that would be the best place to sleep tonight. Then she’d come back here at six when they opened to have a swim and a shower before work. Maybe even try out the sauna and hot tub. On that thought she smiled at her cell phone, fully recharged for the first time in a week, courtesy of the electrical outlet beside her desk.

  * * * *

  “Kendra’s very conscientious,” said Jordan, gazing at Osborne as he undressed for bed.

  “Huh?”

  “Kendra. The new receptionist. Always there no matter how early I arrive in the morning. Still there at night when we leave.”

  “She must be swimming. She wasn’t at her desk when I left. In fact, she came in the other night to say she was leaving and wanted to know what the computer password was before she logged off.”

  Jordan shook his head. Some days he wondered what planet Osborne’s brain lived on. He’d hoped Osborne might have joined a few of the dots, but evidently not. “
Osborne, I’m almost certain Kendra is homeless and living in her car. She’s there at six when we open. She’s there at ten when we close. I’ll bet you a hundred dollars that bag she carries has her clean clothes in it as well as her swimming gear.”

  “But everyone brings their clean clothes to—What, you mean like, the only place she showers is at the Aquatic Center? That she does her laundry there as well? What makes you say that?”

  “Likely she takes her towels and outer garments to the laundromat, but I bet she washes her underwear in the showers and dries it under the hot air blower. As I said, she’s there from when we open until we close, and it’s not to use the diving boards and waterslide because they aren’t open at six in the morning or at ten at night. If you’d ever walked past her car, you’d see the passenger seat is piled high with things, and there’s a pillow and sleeping bag on the backseat.”

  “What’s this got to do with me? With us?”

  “I think you should offer her an advance on her salary so she can get an apartment. She’s doing fine in her job, and we can’t keep losing staff. No one has complained about her to me, and that’s a first,” added Jordan.

  He watched as Osborne stared at the ground, obviously thinking. Then he nodded. “Yes, that’s fair. It’s lucky I’ve got you to nudge me into acting like a good boss. I guess I just don’t notice those sorts of things. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Am I welcome in here, too?” asked Osborne, sliding a hand into Jordan’s sleep boxers.

  “I thought you’d never ask.” Jordan thrust his cock up into Osborne’s hand. All thoughts of Kendra or the Aquatic Center left his brain, and all he could think about was his lover, his partner, and what they were about to do.

  They’d been together for five years, first as business partners and occasional fuck-buddies, but for the past two years living together and faithful to each other. They shared a woman sometimes, or double fucked with the two of them and two women all in the one room together, but mostly it was just him and Osborne. He loved Osborne with every fiber of his being, and knew Osborne felt the same for him, but there was a missing piece. They both needed a woman, or some women, from time to time. Jordan had been thinking lately that what they really needed was a woman who accepted them both and with whom they could complete their little family. He was quite certain two women wouldn’t work. It’d be him and a woman and Osborne and a woman, rather than the four of them as a unit. So what he needed to do was find a woman who wanted to partner with two bisexual men. That wasn’t easy. Many women were curious and would have sex with two men once, as an experiment. But most only wanted an experience, not a relationship.

  Anyway, that was tomorrow’s problem. Right now Osborne’s hand was on his cock, and his mouth was on his nipples. Two could play at that game, and he wanted to join in.

  Jordan tugged on Osborne’s hair, pulling his face up. Their lips locked hungrily, and Jordan thrust his tongue deep into Osborne’s mouth, wanting to taste the man fully, enjoy his flavor. He ran his tongue all around the insides of Osborne’s mouth, along his cheeks, behind his teeth, under his tongue, over the roof of his mouth.

  When they finally broke apart, his chest was heaving for air, and he reminded himself once again that Osborne was a swimmer, used to holding his breath for long periods. Jordan could swim well enough, but he was no fish, and he needed to breathe.

  Jordan lowered his mouth to Osborne’s chest. The man’s torso was as hard as a rock, but a sculpted rock and one that he liked to lick. Oh yes, and suck his hard brown nipples, then trail his tongue down and down still farther to the nest of dark hair sheltering the most magnificent cock ever.

  Jordan stopped to swirl his tongue inside Osborne’s belly button before reaching his goal, Osborne’s cock. It was long and straight, standing up proudly from his dark hair, the cockhead already purplish with need.

  Jordan flicked his tongue over the head very lightly, before diving into the slit for a taste. As he did, Osborne’s large finger penetrated his asshole, stretching it and twirling around, driving his own need higher and higher.

  “It’s not easy to concentrate when you do that,” groaned Jordan.

  “Concentration’s overrated. Lie back and enjoy.”

  But Osborne’s teasing fingers in his rear just made him even more determined to send Osborne as wild with desire as he was himself. He licked and sucked, teased and tormented, all the time his brain tortured by trying not to react too much to the wonderful things happening to himself.

  Finally a large hand slapped his ass hard. “Enough.”

  Jordan rolled clear of Osborne, settled himself with his head on the pillows, and lifted his legs high, locking his hands under his knees.

  He watched Osborne roll a condom down his engorged shaft then kneel between his legs. Jordan settled his feet on Osborne’s broad shoulders as Osborne inched his way inside. “That feels so good. Oh yeah,” he muttered.

  Osborne’s big hands lifted his hips high and drove deeper until his balls were tight against Jordan’s skin, and then he withdrew. Slammed in, withdrew, and began pumping in and out in earnest. Together they built a fast, steady rhythm, Jordan’s hands moving from Osborne’s nipples to gently touch his cheeks or jawline, then down to his thighs. Touching, stroking, petting everywhere, always moving on.

  “Gonna…ahhhhh.” Jordan’s cock spurted hard, semen flying into the air then landing on their tightly joined bodies.

  Osborne laughed, and then his own control broke. Jordan’s ass was suffused with heat as the condom filled with jets of Osborne’s cum. Jordan tugged on his cock to release the last of his orgasm, and Osborne’s hand rested over his. Meanwhile he still moved lazily in and out of Jordan’s channel.

  “Thank you.” Jordan kissed Osborne.

  “Hell, I’m the one who should be thanking you. You always make it so good for both of us,” Osborne replied.

  They hugged for a few moments, and then Jordan pulled away. “Time for another shower.”

  “Give me ten minutes to recover first. I love shower sex.”

  Jordan laughed. He did, too, but mostly he loved Osborne.

  Chapter Three

  Kendra waited in the gym, riding an exercise bike that faced out into the hallway instead of toward the big TV or the main swimming pool. This place was wonderful. She spent almost all her waking hours now, here at the Aquatic Center. “It’s not a swimming pool. It’s an Aquatic Center,” she chanted under her breath. But today she was waiting for Osborne—not Mr. Osborne, Osborne Something Unpronounceable, so he only used his first name—and Jordan, to both leave so she could drag her suitcase and bags out of the trunk of her car and repack everything.

  She’d been washing her underwear and some shirts in the change rooms and drying them under the hot air blowers. She’d gotten a few strange looks so made sure her hair was wet when she dried her laundry, so she could pretend to be drying her hair instead. Now the time had come to go to the laundromat and wash a bunch of stuff. But first she needed to go through her luggage properly and sort it out. Something she couldn’t do in the parking lot. People really would notice that. It was bad enough she couldn’t squeeze her sleeping bag and pillow into the trunk to hide them during the day. But the trunk was hard enough to shut already with her suitcase, bags, and boxes of stuff crammed into it.

  So as soon as they left, she’d get one of the workmen’s trolleys, load all her stuff onto it, and take it into the maintenance bay to sort everything out. Maintenance closed at five and the place was always silent until eight the next morning. Unless something broke down, she supposed. But it was a nice, quiet, private space for her to use. With luck, no one would ever know she was there. Meanwhile, she was pedaling hard on the exercise bike. Maybe she’d even trim a few inches off her thighs while she waited.

  Her legs were getting tired by the time Jordan and Osborne passed by, but she gave them another five minutes to be out of the parking lot before she left the gym. On
ce she arrived at the parking lot, she looked around very carefully and saw no one she knew, so she hurried back into the Aquatic Center via the staff entrance and went straight to the maintenance bay. It took her a few minutes to find where the trolleys were stored, and then she wheeled one out to the parking lot and loaded her suitcase and bags of clothing onto it.

  No one was around, so she spent a few more minutes moving everything in her trunk, trying to make a little more space. Then she slammed the lid and pushed her trolley to the maintenance bay and over to one of the long benches. She looked at the surface doubtfully and ran her finger over it, but no dirt came off, so she guessed it was clean enough. First she sorted her suitcase. Clean clothes on the lid, dirty stuff on the bench. Then she went through each bag separating her clothing, placing everything clean into the case and leaving the rest on the bench. By the time she was done she had four bags of clothing to take to the laundromat, and her suitcase was full of clean things. Unfortunately most of them weren’t suitable office attire. She needed to make this laundry run. That was definite.

  She pushed the trolley back out to her car, loaded her suitcase into the trunk and the bags of dirty laundry onto the backseat, then took the trolley back to the maintenance bay.

  Osborne was standing there in the middle of the room, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me you were homeless and living in your car?” he asked.

  All the blood drained out of her body, and for a minute she thought she’d faint from shock. Determinedly she straightened her spine and sidestepped the question. “I won’t be for much longer. As soon as you pay me, I’ll be able to find an apartment.”

  “Have you got five hundred dollars for a bond?” asked Jordan.

  Shit! Where did he come from? “I was thinking of something a little cheaper.”

  “Even for a trailer, the bond’ll be a couple hundred,” said Jordan relentlessly.