The Pool House

This is a long story (cut into three chunks, for convenience) with a very slow build-up. If you prefer to see the action start on the first page, you may want to look elsewhere.

"That really isn't your color."

Yvonne looked up from the blouse she was inspecting. The woman who had spoken obviously wasn't a saleslady. She wore a tailored suit, and her blond hair was coifed in a very stylish flip. Her lipstick, shoes and handbag all matched. Yvonne didn't recognize the woman, but her remark was casual and off-hand. As if Yvonne was an old friend.

"I was just wondering who the designer was," Yvonne said, looking down at the blouse. Pale yellow. Maybe it wasn't her color.

The woman shrugged. Diamond earrings flashed. She pulled a lavender blouse from the rack and handed it to Yvonne. "You need a cooler color to set off those green eyes and all that blond hair. And a cowl collar – it lets you show off without being obvious about it."

Yvonne took the blouse. The fabric was a tightly woven silk. She peeked at the price tag. Well out of her range. She shook her head regretfully.

"No, I don't think I can."

The woman put the blouse back. "Too bad. I'm Nora," she said, extending her hand. She was perhaps thirty, perhaps a bit older, but her makeup was so perfect it was hard to tell.

"I'm Yvonne."

"Are you a St. Stephens student?" Nora asked.

Yvonne smiled, flattered. She had modeled her look after the women at the town's private university. "No, I'm a townie. I start college this fall." She didn't mention the fact that she hadn't even bothered applying to St. Stephens. Her grades weren't up to their standards. And those community service requirements just weren't her thing.

But perhaps even that had been the wrong thing to say. Nora suddenly looked distracted.

"Very pleased to meet you, Yvonne." She started to turn away, towards the perfume counter. Yvonne felt as if she'd been dismissed. Then Nora looked back over her shoulder.

"We're having a get-together on Saturday night. Come if you can." She reached into her tiny purse and handed Yvonne a card. "Eightish."

Yvonne stood holding the card, nonplussed, as Nora's heels clicked away into the bustle of the department store.

# # #

Yvonne's occasional boyfriend, Tom, was furious, certain that she'd blown him off for another guy. He'd bought tickets to something or other for Saturday night. Well, too bad. Nora hadn't asked her to bring a friend, and she wasn't about to impose on such a new and potentially useful friendship.

She fretted about what to wear. The standards at the party were likely to be high. In the end, she chose her only lavender dress. At least she could count on the color being right. She stood in front of the bedroom mirror. The dress clung to her precociously lush figure, and she tried to decide whether to wear a bra or not. Her breasts were certainly large enough to require one under normal circumstances, and her pink nipples contrasted nicely with her tanned skin. She knew they'd be visible beneath a dress as sheer as the lavender one. But her breasts didn't really need support, and they were rather round, a fact which couldn't be fully appreciated when she wore a bra. And she really didn't mind the attention she'd likely get from the men at the party, provided that it remained discreet. No bra, she decided.

# # #

Downstairs, Yvonne's parents were preparing for their "date night". She winced at her father's plaid sports jacket. And her mom. No hope there either – a top with big flowers and a clashing blue skirt. They used to take her and her sister Kate out with them, for family nights out; but it was just too embarrassing, especially if they ran into anyone she knew. So she convinced them that they deserved some special time together. It worked out.

"Goodnight, Yvonne," her mom said. "Goodnight, Kate. Don't wait up for us." She blew them both a kiss and headed out the door, pulling her husband resolutely along.

It was still only seven o'clock, leaving Yvonne an hour or so to kill. Her big sister Kate was watching TV in the family room with her boyfriend Jim. Poor Kate. It was perfectly obvious that Jim had his eye on Yvonne. He was always looking furtively towards her when Kate wasn't paying attention. And the way he tried to peek up her skirt when she crossed her legs. Pathetic. That relationship didn't have much of a future. But it was working tonight, apparently. As soon as their parents' car pulled out of the driveway, Kate and Jim headed upstairs to her room.

Yvonne flipped through a few channels. Nothing inspired her. After a few minutes she went upstairs herself, figuring she ought to get started on her makeup. She was preoccupied and didn't notice Jim step out of Kate's room, heading back down the hall towards the bathroom. He stopped first, and she came up short a moment later. They were just a few feet apart, facing each other. Jim was completely naked. His cock stuck out, partially erect, slick and wet.

Yvonne put her hand to her mouth. Jim looked startled for a moment. Then he stood up a bit straighter and his expression turned into an insufferable smirk. He stared right at Yvonne. Suddenly her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it down to her toes. She couldn't tear her eyes away from that cock. It glistened with moisture. Evidently it had recently been ... in use. Her field of vision narrowed until all she could see was his crotch, the dark, tangled pubic hair, the wrinkled skin of his scrotum. Her legs felt unsteady; she felt as if she might fall to her knees, where she'd be right in front of his cock, where she could put it in her mouth, lick it clean ...

She forced her eyes shut and took a deep breath. That was all she needed. Having a moron like Jim bragging all over school about how she'd blown him. She curled her lip into a sneer. "Is that all you've got?" she asked, injecting as much disdain into her voice as she could manage. Then she pushed past him into her room.

She collapsed onto her bed, trying to collect herself. The image of Jim naked in the hallway wouldn't leave her. She didn't remember much about the rest of him, but his cock stood out clearly. She'd been derisive; but, to be fair, it was really quite ... lovely. Long and straight and smooth.

Such a nice cock, she thought wistfully. Too bad it was attached to a jerk like Jim.

# # #

Time passed. Her breathing still came in ragged gasps. She couldn't stop thinking about the encounter in the hallway. The wetness down there – had Kate been sucking him? Or had he put it ...

She shook her head. Enough of that. Let Kate do what she wanted. Yvonne had an important party to get ready for. Jim was a moron anyway. What was he doing running around naked in someone else's house? Her libido was such a nuisance. She liked to think about locking it up in a little wooden box, like the inlaid one from Mexico she kept her jewelry in. It would be a box with a single key; and Jim sure as hell wouldn't have it. She knew the value of her virginity, and she had no plans to squander it on someone like him. Still, his body had looked surprisingly masculine. Too pale, though. He could use some more beach time. And a better haircut. No, she wasn't really attracted to him, she decided. Not to mention that he didn't offer any social advantages to offset his jerkiness.

She heard water running in the bathroom, then silence. A moment later she heard the creak of the door. She got up from her bed quickly and opened her own door a crack. Jim, still naked, was facing away from her, headed back towards Kate's room. She watched his buttocks flex as he sauntered brazenly down the hallway. She heard her sister's voice, teasing: "Get in here, Jim. I'm not through with you yet."

He stepped back into Kate's room and disappeared from view.

Except that he didn't close the door.

Yvonne's heart stopped. She should just drop it. Finish getting ready. But she just kept staring at that open door. She wanted to know what they were doing. Maybe if she just passed by quickly, on her way back downstairs ...

She kicked off her sandals and took a quiet step forward. She heard Kate's laughter, always a little too coarse, she thought. Then she heard a different sound, a sharp intake of breath. Whatwas happening? She took another step then stopped to make sure they hadn't heard her. Kate's door was only a few feet away. A little light spilled out of it into the dark hallway. She could hear Kate more clearly now. She was making rhythmic "oh" sounds, trying not to be too loud but sometimes losing control and making a deep moan. Nothing from Jim, though. What did that mean?

The door wasn't wide open, but she had no trouble seeing inside. She stayed back, keeping to the shadows. But the angle wasn't quite right. She could see Kate's bookshelf and her Nirvana poster (Kate was so stuck in the nineties) and some bare arms and legs in the middle of the bed. Yvonne couldn't quite make out who was who. Jim didn't have a lot of hair, and Kate was pale too, which made it more difficult to sort out the body parts.

Kate moaned again, more urgently this time, and there was a quiver in the tangle of naked flesh. That helped make it clearer. Mostly she could see Kate's thighs, long and curvy like her own (if not quite so toned – Kate really need to spend more time at the gym). She was lying on her back with her legs spread wide. Jim's hands held her hips and his head was buried in her crotch. He was ... eating her. Yvonne felt a sympathetic twinge in her own pussy, felt moisture start to seep in its recesses.

Kate thrust her hips upwards, grinding herself against Jim's mouth. Yvonne wished she could see Kate's face, but she'd have to move closer to the door to do that, maybe even push it further open. No, she couldn't. They might see her. Jim would get totally the wrong idea. Kate's hips jerked upwards again and she made a soft gasping sound. Jim gripped her butt hard and moved his head in rapid circles. Yvonne couldn't really see what was going on down there -- all that was visible of Jim's head was his shaggy hair. But Kate said Jim's name breathlessly, stiffened for a long moment, then settled back onto the bed. Jim released her hips and raised his head. Even from her bad angle, Yvonne could tell that he had that stupid smirk on his face.

Kate's breathing was so loud that it covered Yvonne's footsteps as she stepped on a creaky spot on the floor. Maybe she could stand closer for just a moment. She worked her head around the edge of the door just far enough to see all of Jim's body. He was on his hands and knees now, and his butt was kind of facing towards her. There was a dark space between his buttocks and his balls hung below them, prominent and hairy. The muscles in his legs bunched as he moved forward.

Jim suddenly cocked his head and turned it in her direction. Yvonne stepped back reflexively. Had he seen her? She moved as quickly as she could back down the hall and into her room. She closed the door, barely able to breathe. She could smell her own excitement. What was wrong with her? What was she doing creeping around in the dark, snooping on her own sister? She willed the images of Kate's thrashing hips and Jim's obnoxious smirk out of her head. No more of that, she decided firmly. She had to get ready.

But first she'd better change her panties.

# # #

On the way out, Yvonne noticed that Kate's door was closed. Good. No more distractions. No temptation to take one last peek.

She drove her old Honda out to a part of town she rarely visited. The address on Nora's card was high up in the hills. She pulled up a long driveway and gave her keys to a valet who took her car around back somewhere. That was a relief. No one else would see it.

There was definitely a party going on. Music and voices spilled out onto a lush lawn in front of a large contemporary home that was all rectangular shapes and big windows. Yvonne could see people conversing, drinks in hand. A few were smoking outside in the lingering warmth of the summer evening.

She walked inside and went in search of her hostess. The press of party guests made it difficult to pick Nora out. A waiter went by with a tray of champagne, and Yvonne took a glass as nonchalantly as she could. At eighteen, alcohol was rarely this easy to obtain.

She took in the crowd. Almost everyone was quite a bit older than she was, mostly in their thirties. There were quite a few artistic types (well-dressed ones). And, come to that, the house itself featured quite a bit of art. Large canvasses filled the walls, some abstracts, some landscapes, and several rather provocative nudes, mostly females, one a couple embracing, all of them realistic and ... anatomically correct. Yvonne tried to imagine anything like that hanging in her own home and had to laugh.

She moved through the crowd, admiring details of the home's style and picking up bits of urbane conversation punctuated by comfortable laughter. These were people at ease with their social status. It was exactly how Yvonne wanted her own life to be; that confidence, that unspoken certainty of place and position. She looked up from a portrait of a nude woman kneeling, her long hair falling elegantly to one side to see Nora standing in the center of a small, glittering circle. Yvonne composed herself and walked over. Nora smiled and broke away from the group, gave Yvonne a hug. At the last moment, Yvonne remembered to give Nora a kiss on the cheek.

"You look lovely, dear," Nora said, as she introduced her to a fortyish man nattily turned out in a silk blazer.

"You do indeed," he said, admiring her from head to toe. He almost licked his lips as his eyes passed over her breasts. Yvonne was used to that sort of attention from old guys and smiled warmly at him in return.

They spoke about gardening and golf and vacations in places Yvonne couldn't pronounce. She kept smiling and drinking champagne and nodding where appropriate. She found herself moving from group to group, following someone who wanted to introduce her to someone else.

Hours passed and she was on the landing of the stairs that swept up from the entryway. Another nude leaned back seductively on the wall above her. A woman in a swirling batik dress noticed where Yvonne was looking. "Do you like it?"

Yvonne nodded.

"The artist is a friend of Nora's. He's here tonight, actually. Do you want to meet him?"

Wow, Yvonne thought. She didn't realize that painters actually left their cluttered little attics, or whatever, and went to nice parties. But this one clearly had. He was sipping the last of a mojito at the bottom of the stairs. His name was Jake and he was a bit ordinary-looking in his pink polo shirt and tan slacks. But he seemed friendly and – what was the word? – avuncular.

"I love your work," Yvonne said, trying to sound sincere. "It's very ... bold."

He smiled back at her indulgently. "Yes, well, it's a bit easier to be bold in paint than it is in real life, don't you think?" He looked at her appraisingly. "Since you brought up the subject of my work, perhaps you'd consider posing for me sometime?"

Yvonne brightened, flattered. "Of course," she said.

He nodded. "Excellent. How about next Wednesday?"

Yvonne was taken aback. She thought he'd meant it as a compliment; she had no idea that he was being serious.

"You know, I don't really have any experience as a model ..."

"Oh, not to worry. There's nothing to it. You just have to sit still for a couple of hours. Come about four so I can get the afternoon light."

"Ah, okay, Wednesday at four. This Wednesday. All right," she stammered.

Jake gave her the address and wandered off in search of a fresh drink.

# # #

Towards midnight she found herself nibbling on a grilled shrimp and talking with a slim, dark-haired man in an Italian suit. He had intense, serious eyes with small wrinkles at the corners. His smile flashed briefly and easily.

Nora joined them from out of nowhere. "I see that you've met my husband," she said.

Yvonne was startled. She'd only caught the man's first name – Edward. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that I was speaking to my host."

Edward nodded formally and gave her one of his easy smiles. "I'll take that as a compliment; that you've spoken with me because of my natural charm rather than through a sense of obligation."

"Be careful," said Nora. "He

is

charming. I'll have to keep my eyes on him around you." But her tone was light, and she squeezed Edward's shoulder affectionately. "I'm going to the pool. Do you two want to join us?"

"Are the caterers cleaning up?" Edward asked.

Nora nodded.

"Then our responsibilities are at an end." He turned towards Yvonne. "Shall we?"

Yvonne wondered if it was time to be getting home. Her parents were surely back by now. But then they were probably already asleep, so what difference did it make?

"Sure," she said.

Following Edward and Nora, Yvonne noticed that the crowd had thinned. There were only a few people sitting on the large patio that separated the pool from the house. The pool itself was lit discreetly from underneath. It was empty except for one young man swimming laps with smooth, purposeful strokes and a couple embracing in a dark corner of the shallow end. Something was going on between them, but Yvonne couldn't tell precisely what.

Nora said: "I'm going to get in the hot tub. Come on along."

"Sure. Ah, do you have a swim suit I could borrow?"

Nora laughed lightly. "It's after midnight, dear. No clothes allowed." She pointed at the pool house on the opposite side. "There are robes and towels in there. Help yourself."

Nora walked over to the small building, which had a row of doors spaced evenly – changing rooms, presumably. Nora went into one and closed the door behind her. Yvonne was left standing outside, wondering what to do. She could just go home; leave it at that. Well, she should probably wait until Nora came out, thank her for the party, say that she hadn't realized how late it was.

She felt a little chill. The night was starting to cool off. She watched the swimmer. He seemed to be nude; his lean buttocks broke the surface with each stroke. That's two cute naked butts in one night. Definitely a first for her. He reached the far wall and executed a clean kick-turn and headed back. A competitive swimmer, she guessed. Closer, his powerful back muscles flexed as his arms swung rhythmically, and Yvonne noticed that his head was completely hairless.

A burst of laughter came from somewhere across the lawn.

This was the world she wanted to live in, she thought: filled with sophisticated adults who drank champagne all the time and traveled to Barbados and swam nude at midnight.

She took a deep breath and walked over to the changing room next to Nora's.

The small room was lit by dim indirect light. There was a wooden bench at the back, and, as Nora had promised, a hook on the adjacent wall held a plush white bathrobe. Yvonne giggled, thinking it would probably be worth going through with this just to wear the robe.

She reached back, unzipped her dress and stepped out of it. The day's warmth lingered in the tiny room; it felt luxurious against her bare skin. She felt a bit unsteady, so she sat down on the bench before unstrapping her sandals. She put on the robe and hesitated before taking off her panties. Well, she couldn't very well go into a hot tub with them on. She slipped them down her smooth legs and stuffed them in her purse. Being naked underneath the thick robe felt unbearably sexy. The material rubbed against her nipples and her hips and her butt with every step she took. Maybe she could just keep it on forever.

But no, they were waiting for her outside. She hung up her dress and followed the voices to the hot tub at one corner of the pool. It was round and big enough for eight or ten people, although there were only three in it at the moment. One of them was Nora. Her pert breasts bobbed on the foamy surface of the water, gently upturned with dark nipples. Her skin was smooth and supple; no fat anywhere that Yvonne could see. What did she have to do to stay in that kind of shape?