If you haven’t read the first part of The Pool House already, you’ll definitely want to do so before reading this section.
Yvonne woke blearily at noon the next day. Jumbled images of the party swam in her head. The way she’d found the swimmer sitting in the pool house so calmly, his legs apart, waiting for her. And other memories – Edward’s worldly smile, the couple fucking on the lawn, Jim’s glistening cock sticking out brazenly as she turned the corner in the hall …
No. Stop right there. Thinking about Jim had no upside. But the swimmer – she realized that she had no idea what his name was – he was different. He was the perfect lover. Since he never spoke, their tryst would always be their secret.
Yvonne touched herself again, knowing that doing so would never really satisfy her again.
# # #
Her lunch with Nora forced her to focus, to stop thinking about sex for a little while. She dressed carefully for the occasion and ordered a salad -- something that she could eat without difficulty while talking. Nora made it easy for her by supplying most of the conversation. She talked about her travel plans and a concert she’d just been to and her student days in Paris.
“I picked up a lot of French habits while I was there,” she said, winking.
Yvonne wondered if she was referring to a relaxed attitude towards sex. She was pretty sure that was exactly what Nora meant. And she thought about how much she admired that in Nora, her independent spirit and savoir faire, so different from her parents’ dorkiness. Yvonne wondered how she might cultivate those same sensibilities in herself.
When the conversation found its way to the previous weekend’s party, Yvonne asked as disinterestedly as she could about the lanky, olive-skinned swimmer. Nora smiled, not fooled.
“He’s our yoga instructor,” she explained. “Edward and I used to go to a studio in town, but it was such a hassle coming and going all the time that we decided to convert one of our bedrooms to a yoga room. He comes over a couple of times a week to show us new poses. He’s amazing, really. He started studying in Sri Lanka when he was five.”
“Sri Lanka?”
“Yes. He trained as a monk there.”
“Wow, that’s pretty exotic. So he doesn’t speak any English at all?”
Nora shrugged. “Oh, I think his English is fine. He’s taken a vow of silence.”
Yvonne smiled to herself. But not a vow of chastity, evidently. How about obedience?
“Actually, Edward is the real adept in our house. He’s been doing it for years. I’m still trying for that yoga butt.”
Yvonne recalled Nora’s slim figure from the hot tub. “I think you’ve already got it. I wish I were that toned – the stairmaster hasn’t quite gotten me where I want.”
Nora considered for a moment. “Well, if you’d like, come over to our place at three on Friday. Your friend will be there – he can get you started.”
Yvonne’s eyes glazed for a moment. She pictured the swimmer, his smooth limbs stretched out, his muscles flexing in his legs and back. “That would be great,” she said.
# # #
But first she had to deal with that modeling commitment she’d made so rashly at the party. There was no getting out of it, but she had seriously mixed feelings about going. It excited her and terrified her all at once.
Jake’s house, perched on a hill to the west of town, seemed less like an artist’s studio than the temple of some odd-ball eastern religion. The house itself was normal enough, at least for that tony neighborhood; but every room Jake led her through as they walked down to the studio in the basement was adorned with statues of multi-armed gods and half-burned candles. Several more of the large nudes she’d seen at Nora’s house hung on the walls. She swallowed hard, realizing that she was about to become one of them. She just hoped it wouldn’t be too weird.
Well, there was nothing particularly odd about Jake. He was a bit fussy, but he chatted amiably enough as they headed down narrow stairs hung with beads. He wore an old t-shirt, paint-stained white shorts and flip-flops.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked.
“Do you have any orange juice?”
He nodded and started back upstairs. “You can change in the bathroom whenever you’re ready. There’s robe on the door. I’m only going to sketch today – maybe block out some of the big areas. So we won’t be that long.”
Yvonne looked around. The “basement” actually had tall windows with a view down the hill. At one end of the big room was an easel set up with a blank canvas. It faced a large backless couch upholstered in red velvet. There were painting supplies scattered around and a table with brushes soaking in greenish liquid. Painting was a messy business, apparently. In one corner was the door to the small bathroom Jake had referred to. So here I am again, Yvonne thought. Taking off my clothes in an unfamiliar room and putting on a robe. But this time she was pretty sure that nothing terribly exciting was going to happen. Jake looked gay to her.
She undressed a bit timidly. Gay or not, it was an odd feeling, being naked in a stranger’s house. She stepped out feeling a small thrill of adventure, not knowing quite what to expect. What she definitely wasn’t expecting was to see Edward coming down the stairs talking comfortably with Jake. He smiled when he saw Yvonne.
“Hello again,” he said, extending his hand.
Yvonne shook it uncertainly, looking over towards Jake for an explanation.
“Edward’s my favorite model,” Jake said. “Always does what he’s told. Sits quietly by the hour.” He pointed at the blank canvas. “I thought I’d make this one a couple. You don’t mind, do you?”
Yvonne opened her mouth then realized that she didn’t know what to say. In a way it was a relief. It felt odd being alone with Jake, even though this was obviously business as usual for him. Having Edward there for support made her feel more comfortable somehow.
“Ah, sure. That’s fine,” she said.
Jake nodded absently, already thinking of other things. “Edward, go change please. I don’t want to lose the light. Yvonne, please sit on the left side of the divan leaning a bit towards the center.”
