This is a polyamory romance novel, the first chapter of many to come. I hope you enjoy my story as much as I have in writing it. I'd like to give particularly special thanks to my two amazing editors: Efon and Barefootgirl69, both of whom have amazing talent and awesome ideas that really helped me tremendously. Both are absolutely fantastic to work with.
All characters are purely a work of fiction and over the age of 18. Please leave comments as I really enjoy the feedback. Copyright 2016
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It was quarter after noon when I arrived at my modest split-foyer home, relieved to have a midday break from the algorithms and variables that filled my typical work day. Even more, I was looking forward to my homemade Hispanic lunch and the company it provided which was what made the whole fifteen-minute drive home from the office worthwhile. "Milena... you around?"
Climbing the stairs up from the two-car garage below, I noticed the living room off to my right was perfectly set. The sofa's pillows were recently fluffed, the carpet vacuumed and every surface was dust-free. Even the air smelled cleaner in the room than when I left that morning; just a hint of vanilla and a dash of her perfume. I breathed in deep, intoxicated by just the smell of her.
I peeked into the dining room and kitchen area to see if I could find Milena before heading down the hallway toward the bedrooms. Her meticulous hand had perfectly placed every object and cleaned every speck of dust along the way. I nearly felt guilty just walking on the floor as everything was so perfect.
"Mil..." the sudden roar of the vacuum cut me off as I peered into the master bedroom, freezing completely still. My jaw dropped as I caught my breath; my eyes widened and nature took over my lower body at the sight of my housekeeper. She was down on her hands and knees, her gorgeous Latin derriere pointing directly at me as her head squeezed under my queen-size bed while she vacuumed with the hose. Long waves of her jet-black hair slowly slid off her slender form. Her ass, painted with soft blue yoga pants, wiggled enticingly in the awkward position with each jarring motion of her arm. I nearly lost all self control right then and there.
I'm really not sure just how long I stood there, leaning against the open doorway, thoroughly enjoying the view of her as she moved. It could have been hours though more likely just a few minutes. I knew the decent thing would be to get her attention or just leave but part of me truly wanted to believe she knew I was there, gyrating her sexy hips on purpose to catch my eye.
She pulled her head back out from under the bed, pulling my focus from her bottom to her upper half. Her hair was a sexy mess, strands flying every which way with electrostatic frizz as she set the vacuum's hose down and smoothed the waves back into place. Unsatisfied still, she pulled a scrunchie from her wrist and raised her arms, calling my attention to her modest feminine curves. Her tee hugged her bra tightly, the very contours of the bra's design evident in the shirt's material as it raised just enough for a peek at her light caramel-colored midriff. With a few jiggles of her womanly curves, she tied her waist-long hair back into a ponytail. I could have stood there and just watched her forever.
Finishing with the ponytail, she looked my way a bit surprised, suddenly realizing that I was standing there. By the embarrassed smile that came over her, she must have guessed that I had been there for quite some time. "Mr. Gene," she shut off the vacuum, "I am so sorry. I don't hear you come in." I chuckled at the 'mister.' Considering it took her a few months to stop calling me 'Mr. Mendelman,' I had all but given up on getting her to just call me Gene, short for Eugene.
"That's quite alright Milena," I instinctively offered her a hand as she pushed herself up off the floor. Her fingers were so delicate and soft in mine, I didn't really want to let go. "I hate to interrupt... but I was kind of hoping there might be one of your delicious lunches today."
Her beautiful smile beamed, compliments on her cooking always well taken. "Of course, Mr. Gene." Though I stood a full head over her in height, she shooed me through the door like a mother to a small child. "Come... come. I make your favorite today."
Back in the kitchen, she sat me down at the dining table and donned an apron, moving about the kitchen with expertise as if she were the owner of the house instead of me. As I watched her, the idea came over me of what it might be like to have her living there permanently like a steady girlfriend instead of just coming by four days a week at a rate of $100 per day. Given my extremely limited history of live-in girlfriends, just the thought of it put a smirk on my face.
"You look very happy today, yes Mr. Gene?" Milena sat a steaming bowl of my favorite soup in front of me, a Colombian specialty that she called Sancocho.
"I'm always happy when you're around, Milena." I couldn't help but smile at her, my glasses sliding down my scrunched nose. Typically I was too shy to even talk around beautiful young women, much less someone so clearly out of my league. Her genuine friendliness had recently been pulling me out of my shell though. Increasingly I found myself able to open up with her, even flirt a bit and I think, though maybe it was just my wishful thinking, that sometimes she returned them in kind.
She smiled back at me from the kitchen as she spooned some rice onto a plate. "You are so sweet for me, Mr. Gene." I chuckled at the irony of her mis-speech; she had no clue just how 'sweet for her' I was becoming over the passing weeks. My whole life was beginning to center around those half-hour lunches that I spent with her; she was the reason I'd started driving all the way home for lunch after all. I just couldn't bring myself to do more than talk with her though; there's no way she was as attracted to me as I was to her. I knew instinctively that if I ever crossed that line, she would hate me and most likely leave my life forever. I couldn't risk it. Life was just too good with her in it, even if only as my maid.
"I too..." she paused a moment next to me at the table, holding my plate in her hand as she contemplated how to give the correct English phrase. She had been working hard at it over the months, her ability to express herself improving with leaps and bounds since I had first hired her. "I am very happy... when you are around too, Mr. Gene." Her eyes sparkled in self-accomplishment as she laid the plate before me, taking a seat across the table for herself.
"Please Milena," I grabbed my nearby fork hungrily, "it's just Gene. You don't have to say mister." I shrugged my shoulders starting to dig into my rice, plátanos and chicken. "I mean, you're close to my age, right? And... well 'mister' Gene just sounds like my old bald father..." I couldn't stop from chuckling at that point. "I'm only thirty-one after all."
Milena was suppressing a grin as she ate her own meal. "Okay, mister... old man Gene," she broke down into that beautiful laugh of hers. Taking a moment to calm herself, she wiped a tear from the side of her eye. "Honestly, Gene," her deep brown eyes locked directly onto mine, "Please, forgive me. I mean respect to you only. You are a very good man and I like you much."
"Wow, thank you, Milena," sure I knew she meant it purely platonically, if even that, but my insides were still bursting. Outwardly, I nodded while chewing a mouthful of the most delicious chicken I'd eaten since... well, the last time she had made chicken. I was thankful for the moment to think of what to say without overstepping my boundaries.
