A Needed Vacation

Note: This is part 2 of the story between Tom and Angela. I'm open to any and all feedback. Please let me know anything you like or ways to improve the writing. Hope you enjoy this!

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Too tired to spend the day running around and playing golf, I changed into my swim shorts, grabbed a towel and headed towards the pool. On the way down, I passed by a well-built gentleman who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, putting him easily ten years older than Angela and about five ahead of me. The cutoff grey cotton t-shirt, muscled arms, and legs that reminded me more of oak tree trunks than things humans walk around on, were a dead giveaway that this guy liked to work out and exactly the kind of guy that Angela had always told me she liked to be a tease with in college.

At an initial glance, I couldn't tell if he was heading towards or coming from the gym, but I as got closer and started to pass him two things became very apparent. First, from the fresh sheen of sweat and his red face he had obviously just come from the gym, and second, judging from the sly mysterious grin and the massive bulge extending almost halfway down his thigh, Angela wasn't kidding with me earlier and just trying to spike my imagination, she must have actually done something. I made a mental note to ask her about it on the drive over to dinner later this evening.

After arriving at the pool, I expected my time and day there proved rather uneventful. As I lounged in the warm sun beginning to drift off to sleep, I felt a rapid beating in my chest, a strange constricting feeling and difficulty breathing. Laying there with my eyes closed, I suddenly found myself standing back in my boss' office. His eyes glaring at me over some wire thin glasses, I could see the black numbers on the dull metal colored clock behind him and the unsettling realization crept into my mind that it was already eleven in the evening on a Tues.

There were still three more days in a normal work week, four or five for us, if he decided it was a bad week. Even the most dedicated of workers, managers of large divisions and global operations, had left hours ago for dinner, to see their wives, or even to do some mundane task like going to pick up groceries. But here we were, probably the only two people left in the entire office building; even the cleaning crew had come and departed more than an hour ago. The heavy stack of meaningless and useless reports and figures in my hands, more than any one person could possibly review and retain, felt like some warped version of a heavy anchor on a long chain, wrapped around my neck, that once on the bottom of the ocean extended just far enough towards the surface to give the illusion of freedom while still drowning.

"Hey, you just gonna stand there all fucking day like an idiot!" snapped an extremely irritated voice. Then there was a dismissive wave of a hand as his head lowered returning to the stack of papers in front of him. A low and tense voice then followed, "I said I'm thirsty and a little tired over here. Grab me a damn coke from the fridge or do I have to do everything for myself in this pathetic office?"

"Of course, sir." I replied trying to contain my anger as I walked slowly over the refrigerator in the corner of the office. Three months on the job, and every day has passed in the same fashion. His moods were completely unpredictable, from friendly and smiles one moment, to utter disgust and belittling the next.

Setting the freezing, cold can down on the coaster on his desk, I continued with what had originally brought me back into office this late in the evening, "I also have the latest stack of reports you requested from finance regarding projections for next quarter and at the bottom is the assessment from R&D on prioritized product investment for the company."

There was a brief pause after I finished speaking and it felt as though the room were growing stiller, quieter, than somehow it was already. I braced myself. I knew what moments like this meant, where they might lead, but no matter how I tried to mentally prepare, there was always some angle he managed to find and exploit.

"Do you know what it takes to run a company of this size, Terry?" He inquired looking up at me with a small, wry smile that didn't quite touch his eyes. The silence of the office while awaiting my answer was only punctuated by the dull humming of the fluorescent lights and crisp 'pop' of the soda can opening. I hated moments like these and they happened all too frequently, usually when no one else was around or behind closed doors. The loud slurping, made my hands want to ball into fists.

"Tenacity and drive?" I asked sensing this might be just another one of his traps to berate me on some point or other of his business philosophy. "...and it's Tom, sir. My name is Tom."

Shaking his head and uttering a dry, hoarse chuckle, he continued as though I had spoken some different set of words, or pontificated in some grandiose, intellectual fashion about the minor points of business management and leadership to a fault. When he spoke, his voice contained a hollow intonation as though he was pronouncing judgment at a trial, "God, you're fucking dumb. It takes balls, Terry. Balls. Something I have quite a lot of and something you obviously haven't got. You've been at this company what...eight years? And what have you achieved? Nothing, you fucking loser. Who in this complex knows of you or what you've done? No one. If hadn't been for me picking you for this job, you'd still be stuck down in your shitty little department probably working, and praying for a promotion to get some hot little secretary or co-worker to notice you and fuck you on the copy machine or in the janitor's closet."

"Excuse me, sir?" I said trying to contain the rage inside that was now threatening to boil over. My hands had now balled completely into fists. I felt my nails digging into my palms.

"My point is: You owe me. You owe me for this opportunity I've dropped in your lap to be better than you thought you were. And because of that, I own you and your shriveled sense of self. Too bad you're screwing this opportunity and yourself up. If you were at any other company, they would've fired your sorry ass years ago." Then as though, nothing in the preceding moments had even taken place, he asked rather cordially, "You have a wife?"

"Wh...Wha...What?!" I stammered utterly confused now. These types of outbursts were typical, but the usual shift in moods was not normally as pronounced as just now. "Yes, sir. I have a wife; we've been married just over three years."

"Family in the area?"

"Yes, sir. A lot of her relatives and close family live right in town or the surrounding area."

"Ah, that's good to hear. God likes happy marriages. What's that stack you've got there?" He asked with what appeared to be genuine excitement in his voice. It never ceased to amaze me how he dropped in references to God and spirituality in the middle, of an otherwise debasing, conversation. It made the already unnerving and tense conversation even more bizarre.

I tried to straighten myself up and pretend like the preceding moments hadn't occurred. Stretching out my hands with the heavy stack, he eagerly took it from me and began thumbing through each page with fervent interest.

"These are the reports you've requested from finance and R&D," I said repeating my earlier statements about the quarterly projections and product development lines. Despite the sudden change in pleasantness, the hair on the back of my neck was standing on end and a single bead of cold sweat dripped down below my collar trailing the length of my spine. His mood swings usually took place over the course of several minutes to several hours, not one sentence to the next. This is was unusually perplexing and I was on full alert.

"Good, good," he murmured. That smile was coming back, the one that didn't quite touch his eyes. His grin and the teeth it showed seemed to magically change from one of a concerned father to a very dangerous predator. His voice started off firm but began to trailing toward the end of the sentence, "Just think, there are other bums out there that probably left hours ago when it was still daylight. And they say they're our competition...go on and get out of here. It's getting a little late."

"Yes, sir." I replied thankful to be going before having to face whatever was brewing underneath that mask. I tried to make my hurried steps to the door appear natural, but found myself unable to fully contain my relief as my back turned towards him. As I approached the threshold of the office door, I heard that bitter, hollow, intonation again.

"She must be real proud of you," the disgust and sarcasm dripping off every word.

"Sir?" I asked not fully turning around, half questioning, half hoping that if I didn't fully acknowledge his voice the situation would cease to exist.

"That wife of yours. She must be so proud to be married to a spineless, little prick like yourself. I bet you're as unsatisfying to her in the bed as you are here at work. She's probably only still with you for your measly paycheck because she's got to be fucking someone with real balls if she has any satisfaction in her life."

I could no longer contain my rage. My head was spinning, and I felt like I had lost complete control of my body, limbs, and speech. Everything seemed to be disconnected from the reality that I knew and I heard a distanced voice that I only dimly recognized as my own croak, "What did you just say to me?!"

That predatory smile and the harsh hollow intoning voice brought me crashing back down into my body. There was a sense of dull, languid amusement now when he spoke, "Easy there, Terry. You lose your cool with me and I'll fucking destroy you. I own you and I know everyone in this business, not just in town but across this entire industry. If I decide it, your spineless, ball-less ass will never find work again and you'll be forced to whore that wife of yours out for money to keep a roof over your head and food in your mouths. Now get the fuck outta my building you piece of shit. See you tomorrow."

I snapped wake, suddenly cold even though the sun was quite warm. The dream was over but not the effects as I could feel myself still taking shallow breaths and my heart was racing. The horror of the past year recapped in my dream contrasted sharply with the placid, smooth surface of the pool and the gentle swaying of the palm trees in the early afternoon breeze. Sitting up, I noticed and then recognized the odd sensation in my arms and hands as the shaking that had crept up at some point during that job. The effects had not fully gone away although more than a month had passed since I had been rotated out of the position, and I could contain them on most days, but sometimes still lost the ability when events got wildly out of control.

I needed to get the images and memories out of my head. Lazily sliding on my sandals, I rose to get a drink from the bar on the other side of the pool. It was quiet now at the pool and as I walked around the still water admiring its placidity, the contrast struck me as oddly funny. The paradox between the roaring, disturbing images between my ears and the smoothness of the surface shouldn't have been a source of amusement, but somehow were. Within the deep recesses of my own thoughts, I couldn't help but wonder if some of the insanity I become some accustomed to during the previous year hadn't somehow, in some childish way, reached out its twisted, mangled monstrous claws leaving its taint as a brand deep inside me, haunting me only in the dark recesses of my private world.

The bartender was not an overly handsome man with his dark hair and eyes that were accompanied with a stubbled face from several days of not shaving. His tanned skin and wrinkles around eyes, gave him sort of tired, weathered look adding years to him that he most likely didn't have.

"Watcha drinking today?" he asked in a friendly voice.

"Just give me double rum and coke," I replied after thinking a moment.

"Been one of those days? It's supposed to be a vacation you know. Let go, relax" he said in an almost canned manner.

"You might say that," I mumbled in a low voice, not really wanting to get into a deep conversation. I really just wanted to pound that drink and help it take the edge off the effects of that dream.

"She must have been a helluva chase," he said tilting the bottle of Captain Morgan's and letting the golden liquid fall into the glass.

"What?" I asked, not having any clue what he referring to.

"Well, judging by the way you were twitching and moving over there while asleep and all that loud mumbling, she must have been smoking. Hope it turned out well for ya," he said with a somewhat perverted grin and gleam in his eye.

"Yeah," was I all could think to say. God, I hated it when random people tried to force conversation with me. It made the situation just awkward and all I could really think was just for him to shut up and make the fucking drink so I get some space from all the crap in my head.

He finished a moment later and handed me the chilled glass. I downed the entirety of it before he handed me the bill and after signing it, walked slowly back towards my chair.

Between naps and rolling over to prevent sunburning myself, the mundane images of the pool simply passed their way in front of me barely registering as I tried relaxing in the warm Florida sun. A few parents brought their kids who were splashing away and giggling, and then they ran around the deck and dove into the water continuing their game. Older men and women arrived as the day wore on and sat listlessly in their chairs, sipping on drinks, reading books, magazines or other things as the time passed. I let myself ease into the comfort and normalcy of the moment, and actively pushed aside all the images and thoughts that nagged at the back of brain. As I did, I found a lulling peaceful overtake me and for the first time in over a year, it really felt as though things were getting better.

The afternoon continued to pass with a younger couple or two would arriving for a few minutes, spreading their towels and take a ceremonious dip in the water before returning the chairs for a bit, and then, hand-in-hand scamper off back to their rooms for what I presumed could only be a midday fuck.

The sun had begun its slow decent and the pool had gone empty and quiet when I finally decided to rouse myself from my lazy afternoon and check my watch. The titanium band was hot even after being stuffed inside a shirt all day to prevent it from becoming a searing hot white shackle. Looking down through the crystal top, my eyes trailed pass the gold crown, and etched company name to see the gold highlighted hands pointing to a few minutes past four. My head was a little light and I realized I probably hadn't drunk enough water today.

I was about to fully sit up and head back to the room, when something out of the corner of eye caught my attention. As I looked to the left, I heard the sound of the pool gate creaking open and could hardly believe what I was seeing. Sun seemed to dance about her blond hair and its natural wavy-ness as she held the gate for just a moment longer than was necessary. Her perfectly shaped legs seemed to stretch for miles, so smooth and tan and flawless as she walked slowly across the pool deck. With each step her large firm breasts bounced under a nearly sheer red sundress. As she made her way around the pool to grab a towel, it finally registered in my brain the area was disturbingly empty. The bartender was gone and so was every other living soul for the moment. This was the kind of thing I dreamed about, being alone in gorgeous and secluded location, on a wonderful day, with a beautiful woman and no one else.

Lost in the moment, I hardly noticed the gate opening again and someone else entering. It was only as my eyes continued to follow this new found beauty back to her chair that I noticed she had taken two towels and now there was another man standing at the opposite side of the pool. After a brief and inaudible exchange, she gave him a short kiss and he left hurriedly as though he had forgotten something back at the room.

No sooner than had he left, this unknown woman turned to face me and stared directly towards me. Her eyes were shielded by her sunglasses, but there was no mistaking her body language that was screaming for a fuck. Standing there, hands on her hips that were thrust just a hair more than they needed to be in my direction, those shapely legs poised a little wider than her narrow shoulders, her chest pushed out begging to groped and fondled as it strained against the sundress; yes, there was definitely no mistaking it.

She grabbed at the bottom of her sundress and lifted it over her head to reveal what could hardly even be called a bikini. Two thin blue triangles that barely covered her nipples were connected by a thin strap than ran up and disappeared into hair and behind her neck. As my eyes trailed downward across her toned stomach , the bottom of the bikini was made of the same blue material and the triangle there was even smaller and tighter, if such a thing was even possible. Making a show of it, she turned around, holding the sundress in one hand to place it on her chair revealing a ruffled back of the bikini with a pink outline that offered only slightly more coverage that if she had worn a thong to the pool.

Setting the sunglasses down on the chair as well, she sauntered over to the edge of the pool and stretched her arms overhead letting out a loud low sigh that sounded more like inviting purr than the usual tightened gasp one has from their breath constricting when preparing to enter the water. With those arms extended, her tiny bathing suit couldn't withhold the bottom of her breasts, as her full mounds began to spill out. Then as though her display was no more than pure playful innocence, she lifted one foot and dove into the water.

I sat up a little more to see her image blurred and encompassed in the white foamy air bubbles underneath the surface. She came up for air, tossing her head side to side swimming back and forth in cool water for a few moments before coming to rest just in front of my chair. She placed her hands on the deck and drew herself out and nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.

Her blue material of her suit was now completely sheer. I could see her large pink nipples hardening underneath the fabric as she rose up out of the pool. The water pouring off her body and slick hair trailed down her stomach urging my eyes to follow their wet streams to her bikini bottoms which were also now more a jest to the formality of modesty for a distant observer than actually concealing anything. This material has also become skin tight and sheer revealing the most immaculate maintained and thin line of pubic hair I had ever seen and which trailed to two perfectly smooth pussy lips. I was enraptured by her form and disbelief at the whole situation; I hardly even noticed my mouth was open, and that I was becoming very hard.

"Glad to see you like my bikini," she cooed almost melodically while staring at my crotch. Her hands were back on her hips and she was pushing out her breasts again. "You should take a picture before my boyfriend comes back. It'll last longer and then you can jerk off to me later."

"What makes you think I'm not going to pull it out here and jerk it right now for you?" I retorted and somewhat affronted by her boldness, but also secretly loving it. I wasn't sure what sort of game she was playing at, but I was enjoying it and decided to dig a little and attempt to find out. "You obviously like to tease the shit out men."