Chapter 2: Dark Waters
Trish pushed open the fogged, glass door of the pool house with her thumbs; her arms filled with folded, bath towels. After restocking the pool larder, she sat on one of the many chaise lounges orbiting the pool. First, her eyes darted to the pool door to see if anyone was coming. Satisfied, Trish stole a moment and took off her shoes. She groaned audibly as she rubbed the soreness out of her tired feet. She'd been standing all evening, serving her Lord, the Earl of Wiggindorf, and his guest, the Honorable Lord Dusendorf. During dinner, Dusendorf's hands had been all over her, her bottom still sore from his continual pinching. As she'd served the roast this evening, she'd felt his eyes on her. Each time she leant over to refill his wine cup, she felt his breath through the thin material of her maid's chemise.
It was always this way when the Earl had his 'Army compatriots' over as guests. Together, they'd served somewhere exotic, like India, though she'd never bothered to ask. Most of them had never appealed to her. None except for the Captain, Hennington. He was tall, with fair hair, and unlike the rest was mostly silent. He'd invited her back to his room and she'd accepted. She was curious and, up till then, had only kissed a few of the servant boys. She had gone that evening, to the Captain's room. She had found not only the Captain waiting for her but also Mary, the maid from Upstairs. Mary was sitting on the bed, her blouse strings undone and her large, full breasts were exposed. The Captain had invited Trish in. She was polite, but quickly retreated, despite Mary's pleadings with her to stay. She'd not known Mary very well at the time, but had come to know her better in the following months. Trish and Mary had found a small space in the attic they went to to talk. Of course, when they talked, it was often Trish interrogating Mary about what she'd done with the Captain.
"Do you mean you don't know, Trish? How could you not know?" Mary'd chided her, smiling. Their bodies close to each other in the small space, only an oil lantern giving light.
"Oh, I know, Mary," Trish said, at the time, so wanting to be older. "Just not exactly"
"Do you want me to show you? Exactly?" Mary's grin so pretty. Mary's hand would slip gracefully into the ties of Trish's blouse. Her strong fingers wrapping around Trish's breasts, squeezing them lightly. Mary showed her the pleasures of a woman, and so Trish's knowledge grew. They're soft moans and quick, careful grasps hidden carefully in the small space of the attic.
Thinking about Mary, Trish rubbed her legs together, causing the hosiery to grate nicely. Trish filled her maid's blouse and short skirt well. There were full curves in her hips, and her blouse ties concealed her ripe breasts poorly. She'd lived in Wiggindorf manor all of her 22 years of age, never knowing a land further than the stone fences still within view of the manor. She'd let her long, black hair free, for Mary, but on duty, she wore it tightly under her lacey cap.
Trish often came to the pool house in the evening. It was soothing after hard days, to hear the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the pool. Often, as tonight, the tall windows would shine the outside moonlight and stars onto the water's surface. The walls rippled and turned with the shadows. The entire pool was lined in bright, irregular Spanish tiles. The south wall of the pool house held a line of Corinthean columns, purely for decoration. The water would sometimes be clear enough to see the small tiles lining the bottom, or opaque enough to reflect the stars. The end Trish was sitting at was deep, but as you crossed the pool, it shallowed. At the north end, the bottom rounded up, becoming a beach, equally lined with tile.
Trish heard a small splash in the water. It woke her from her reverie. Looking across the top of the dark waters, Trish felt it was speaking to her. "Back to work, I s'pose," Trish said absently to the dark waters, and started to put her shoes back on. Reaching over for them, Trish noticed a small, dark shape, leaning against one of the columns. Squinting, she couldn't make it out, so she, in bare feet, tiptoed over to it. The tiles in the floor seemed to suck at the heat her legs had built up. Arriving, she picked it up.
"A shoe," she said to no one. It was dull brown, ordinary, though highly polished. Certainly, a servant's shoe, a man's shoe. The laces were undone.
"Whoever wore this didn't get very far..." Trish said to no one.
Looking behind the column, Trish noticed a man's shirt, pants, socks and cod, scattered about. A ladies expensive evening gown was also lying hidden, rumpled hideously. Trish stared, trying to make sense of the forgotten clotheing. If she hadn't known better, she'd swear someone had gone for a swim. But no one was in the pool.
Experimentally, Trish slowly edged over to the lip of the pool and peered in. The water was dark, at first not giving up any secrets. Just the shadows and stars playing across it. Suddenly, a bright, beam of moonlight entered through the windows, just for a fraction of a moment. Just long enough for Trish to see into the waters.
There, hovering as though suspended in time, were two lovers. A man and a woman. They were wrapped in each others arms, kissing and touching. Their skin shone like highly-polished ivory, glimmering in the seabeams. The man's dark eyes were open, looking at the woman, while her head was tilted back, eyes shut. Her hair was a giant mane about her, the tendrils of which reached to pull the man closer to her. Her breasts were large, with nice, puffy nipples tipping each. The couple appeared like something out of a painting. Or rather, like the Grecian statues that Lord Wiggindorf kept outside in the garden. Some thought the garden statues obscene, but Trish had always liked them. They'd always looked so beautiful to her, like what she saw now.
Trish knew the woman, though she'd always seemed a girl before. Amanda Wiggindorf, The Earl of Wiggindorf's nineteen year old daughter. The man, undoubtedly the owner of the shoe, was Charles Bradfordshire, the head Butler for the manor. Charles had always appeared so stuffy, so full of pride and principle. But here they were, for an instant in front of her, before being swallowed by the darkness.
Standing at the side of the pool, Trish stared transfixed. They reappeared in another gust of moonlight. They didn't even look like Charles and Amanda. They were like ghosts, and they moved her. Trish thought if she moved, or blinked, or even breathed, they would blink out of existence. ----------
At first, Amanda had started to rethink meeting in the pool house. It was dangerous, and if they were caught she knew Charles would be discharged. But now, lost in the water and Charles, she couldn't remember why she'd ever been worried. They'd both just come back from a breath, barely breaking the surface, then back down into the deep waters. Charles's strong arms pulled her to him, sending a 'woosh' of water swishing about them. His hands lightly caressed her back. Each touch sent chills throughout her body, the water somehow magnifying his touch. She felt much closer to him now than in the shed earlier today. As if they'd found their own world, a private world only they knew about.
In any other place in the house, they would have to worry about being quiet. But here, in this blue, watery world, there was no sound. Only touching. And his taste, mixed with the water
Charles spun her around and pulled her into him. She felt his cock, already hard, against her bottom. He began to kiss on her neck, and she tried to laugh against the waters. She felt his hand slowly moving across her stomach, then down between her legs. She parted them, and nestled further into his cock. His hand found her mound, and he started to rub against it with his palm. She shuddered slightly, the blue shadows playing across her eyes. The intensity built, and he slowly pushed a finger up inside of her.
She wanted to spin around, to force him to the bottom so she could sit on his cock and ride him. Like she'd done before with her father's friend. But Charles's arms were too strong, and he held her fast against him.
Her lungs started to insist on another breath, but she did not want to leave this place.
Harder and harder, he rubbed his hand against her little button. The darkness getting deeper, richer. She felt all her mind going into the pleasure he was bringing her. Losing her mind in the pleasure, losing her want to breathe. He shoved a second finger in, filling her. She was on an edge now. Leaning over it, she felt her lungs burning for air. She would not leave this moment, she would remain teetering on this brink forever. Not leave the oh-so intense pleasure she was receiving. She would fall into the darkness, further and further. Spiraling, forever, down, down, into blackness.
Suddenly, her eyes opened wide, as the white-hot flare of orgasm overtook her. Her body shook against Charles's, again and again. His cock slightly pushed even more between her ass. His fingers dug deeply into her, and even as she shook, he would not stop rubbing her.
