I found myself very nervous that Sunday afternoon as I waited for Jill to arrive.
She was a college friend of my daughter Sarah, and although I knew her from a couple of vacation visits she made, now she was coming to stay alone as she had some job interviews in town.
I have lived alone since I divorced Sarah's mother, done well enough as an architect to work from the home I designed for myself. There was plenty of room for anyone to stay for a week without disrupting each other.
Yet I found myself pacing as I waited for her to arrive. Dinner was essentially ready, her room was well set up, and it is not like I had never had female company before. But there I was walking from room to room, out to the patio, and back.
I was out by the pool when I heard a car pulling into the driveway. I walked over and looked beyond the fence to see Jill getting out of a small SUV. She was about 5 feet 2 inches tall, a sneaky athletic body set off by a light brown pony tail.
"Over here, Jill," I said, startling her as she grabbed a bag from the SUV. She turned and bumped her head on the open car door. Seeing she was OK, we both started laughing.
As she walked to me, I was treated to the sight of her in khaki shorts and a tight light blue T-shirt cut midway down her pert breasts. I stepped around the gate and took her bag.
"Follow me, madam, your quarters are this way," I said, walking to the pool house in the back of the yard.
"Oh wow, I get a whole house? I may never leave," said Jill with a laugh.
I dropped her bag by the diving board. With a sweep of my arm, I gestured around the yard, pointing all the way back to the jacuzzi secluded from view.
"Stick with me kid, this could all be yours," I said, making the joke before thinking about the implications.
I looked down at her bag as I picked it up and saw the zipper was not fully closed. On top was a frilly pair of green panties that sent my mind spinning in 17 different directions.
Inside the pool house, I set her bag on the bed and pointed out the bathroom, towels and anything else to try and look casual.
As I turned to leave, we collided, my hands caught her tight mid section and my thumb moved over her left breast.
"I'm so sorry. Not much of a bellhop, I guess," I said. "Anyway, dinner is in about an hour – you are welcome to enjoy the pool."
"I think I will, it was a long drive. Will you join me?"
"Maybe in a bit," I said. "Just know you are welcome to anything here."
I went back to my house feeling like 2 percent klutz and 98 percent dork. I opened a bottle of zinfandel to breathe before dinner and busied myself around the house before coming out to light the grill.
As I brought out our steaks, I nearly dropped the tray. Jill emerged from the pool in a stunning blue and white striped bikini, conservative but form fitting with a triangle top framing the loveliest breasts I had seen in ages.
"I feel like I'm treating you like my servant," she said as she joined me by the grill. I looked down to see her nipples pushing at her top and beads of water on her arms.
"Oh now, just trying to be a good host," I said.
"Well, I'm going to get changed for dinner," Jill said and walked away, her hips rocking and cute ass swaying in the full bottoms of her bikini.
She reappeared in the same shorts and shirt she wore when arriving and I served us steaks and salad. Nothing elaborate, but Jill ate heartily. We talked about interviews, school, her future, my work. We drank wine slowly as night fell over the patio.
"I can't thank you enough for your hospitality," Jill said as I carried our plates to the kitchen. She seemed to shimmer in the lamplight, mildly buzzed as she sipped the last of the wine.
"Well, I remember how it is starting out in the world. Interviewing is tough, even with someone as charming as you," I said. "I need to get to bed shortly, but you can do as you wish – take another swim if you want. The pool stays very warm."
The thought Jill might be outside swimming made me restless as I settled into bed, but I pushed all naughty thoughts from my head as I tried to get to sleep.
Early the next morning, I hit the gym in my garage. I'm not bulked, but try to get an hour in every day before getting to work. I had just set up for bench presses when the door opened and Jill walked in.
With 125 pounds on the bar, I was not too worried about a spotter. I was on my back when she walked over in black running shorts and a loose fitting T-shirt.
"Oh hi," I said, looking up as she walked over. "You're up early."
"I was going to take a run. You shouldn't do that without a spotter," she said.
"Nah, it's OK. You go out on your run," I said. I gripped the bar while looking up at her exposed tight abs.
She came closer to the bench, standing behind me. I looked up the legs of her shorts to see a rainbow colored pair of lacy panties. The scent of her musk filled my nose, I was lucky not to get hard on the spot.
"OK Mr. He-man, I'll spot while you do your set. I don't want my host getting injured."
I pressed a quick set of 12, focusing on the lift even as small whiffs of Jill wafted over me. She backed up but stood within reach of the bench. As I pressed the last one, she leaned forward and helped me reset the bar.
