After hoisting herself up out of the pool, Samara squeezed the excess water out of her copper curls and slicked it back. She couldn't have asked for a better afternoon. The art project that she'd been working on for the past month was done and she had a stretch of free time for the next two weeks. Water dripped from her body as she walked to the purple chaise positioned at the side of the pool. Without bothering to dry off - wasn't that what the sun was for? - Samara settled on the cushioned chaise and breathed a sigh of relief.
She was taking a much needed rest before she tackled her messy studio. She pulled a hard lemonade out of the ice bucket sitting on the table next to her and settled her shades on her nose. Soaking up the afternoon sun was the only thing on her agenda right now.
Just as her shoulders relaxed into the soft cushions, the chimes of her doorbell rang.
"Dammit," she muttered and placed the half-empty bottle of lemonade on the table. "Perfect timing." She snatched up her robe and slid it on.
Samara ran through the house, sliding across the marble floor of the foyer on her wet feet. Who the heck was ringing her doorbell in the middle of the day? She secured the terry cloth robe around her waist before opening the door a crack.
On the doorstep stood a real cutie with longish curly dark hair and just the right amount of beard stubble. Samara grinned. This was a nice surprise, indeed. Her gaze traveled from his face down the white uniform top to the dark blue khakis. She frowned a little at the pants. Jeans would have been better for her to check out the package.
"Can I help you?" Cute or not, she kept the door chain on. Crime in this area was rare, but she wasn't going to let this stranger into her house without some vetting first.
The man smiled, showing off a dimple in his left cheek. He glanced at his clipboard. "Mrs. Kingston? Samara Kingston?"
Wasn't he just adorable despite that silly looking uniform! Samara gave her warmest smile. "That's me. What can I help you with?"
"Davis Monroe, Triple A Alarm."
That was her alarm company, but what did he want? "And what do I owe this visit, Mr. Davis Monroe?"
"Scheduled maintenance. Checking the panels, the circuits. Stuff like that."
Samara raised her eyebrows. Stuff like that, indeed. "Got any ID?"
He pulled off the ID clipped to his pocket and held it up. He even took a good ID picture.
Samara made a little clucking sound with her tongue. "If it were scheduled maintenance, then why don't I remember scheduling it, Mr. Davis Monroe?"
Davis laughed a little. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Kingston. You don't schedule it, the computer does." He raised his shoulders in a half-shrug. "Ma'am, you can call the company. Or you can schedule it for another day."
Samara thought it over. Might as well get it over with. "Oh, never mind. Since you're here..." She unfastened the chain and swung the door open. She could stand looking at him for the duration of his visit.
He gave her another charming smile as he walked in, the white shirt sleeves stretching over his biceps. A little flutter started in her belly. Tall, dark, handsome, with a dimple! He was her favorite flavor of everything. Alarm company worker or not, she wanted to stick a spoon in him.
Samara cleared her throat. Favorite flavor or not, she couldn't very well jump his bones in the middle of the day. "How long is this going to take, Mr. Monroe?" You fine male specimen.
"About a half hour."
The purring tone of his voice made her go all warm and syrupy inside. He could perform maintenance on her, scheduled or not.
Returning his smile, she loosened the belt of her robe so that it fell open to reveal the dark blue top. "I'll be by the pool." She waved her hand toward the back of the house. "Let me know when you're done."
"Will do." He stepped to the alarm panel near the door. "You have five of these?"
Samara nodded. "Two upstairs, two in the main floor and one out in the pool house."
"I'll save that one for last, so you'll know when I'm done." He gave her another panty-melting smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Kingston."
"Please, call me, Samara. Sam." She corrected him. "And I'm not married." Oh, Sam, could you give a bigger hint? "I'm going to get out of your way."
"This shouldn't take long, Samara."
"Sam," she corrected playfully.
"Sam," he repeated. "But I like Samara better." He gave her an appraising look, but was polite enough to keep his eyes at face level. "It's elegant."
The heat of a blush started at her chest and rushed upward. Flattery will get you where you want to go, Mr. Monroe. "What a nice thing to say." She paused and let her gaze travel over him again. "Like I said, I'll be out back."
She cursed the heavy robe she was wearing, but she pulled the belt tighter to give him a better view of her rounded ass, if he cared to look. Despite her sometimes sedentary lifestyle as an artist, eating well and swimming gave her enough exercise to keep her body in the shape she liked. Not too fat, but not too thin either.
Back at the pool, she slid off the robe and lay back on the chaise. Her mind wandered to Mr. Davis Monroe, he of the hefty biceps and curling brunette hair. Humming a little off-key tune to herself, she crossed her oiled cinnamon-toned legs at the ankles, pressing her thighs together. A tiny frisson of excitement rushed through her as she imagined Mr. Davis Monroe applying coconut oil to her back, his strong fingers easing the tension in her neck as applied the oil in long, sensual strokes.
In her daydream, her bikini top magically disappeared and the obliging Mr. Davis Monroe stroked her stiffening nipples, first with his fingertips, then with his tongue, right out here by the pool. Each touch of his tongue against her tight peaks would make her moan as her pussy juices began to flow. Then, he would slide her bikini bottoms down her hips and--
"Sam?"
Behind the shades, her eyes flew open and she sat up, her heart racing.
"You're done so soon?" Beads of perspiration slid between her breasts and she blotted them with a towel, peeking at him over her shades. Just how long had she been daydreaming?
"I just need to see the panel in the pool house."
"Sure." Sam got up from the chaise and decided to forego the robe. Let him get a good look. "Follow me."
The pool house smelled like chlorine and the towels the housekeeper forgot to take to the laundry. She opened a window and pointed him toward the wall panel. "Right over there."
"Thank you." He nodded at her and she was pleased to see his eyes flick down her nearly naked body. She was glad she hadn't bothered with the robe.
She watched while he flipped open the panel and did something or other to the inner workings.
"All done," he said and handed her the clipboard to sign. Sam scrawled her signature at the bottom and sighed inwardly. Too cute to let walk out the door, but she couldn't sample every treat that came her way. It was really too bad.
"This way. I'll let you out the back." Her bikini top rubbed against her tight nipples as she led him to the gate. His presence behind her, knowing he was looking at her body, made her hornier. The alarm company's car was parked in front of the house. "There you are," she said. "Thank you again for making such a quick visit."
"No problem." He touched two fingers to his forehead in a salute. "Nice meeting you, Samara."
"Come back any time," she said. Where the heck did that come from?
"For scheduled maintenance."
"Yes. Of course." The heat rose in her face. What kind of fool says 'come back any time' to an alarm employee? "Thanks again."
****
Later that evening, Sam drained the glass of cold white wine and placed it on the edge of the tub. The bath was warm and relaxing after her vigorous cleaning and organization of her studio, a job that she hated, but did after every assignment. Sliding lower in the tub, she breathed in the vanilla and lavender fragrance of the burning candles glowing the dim room. She couldn't get that sexy alarm guy out of her mind.
Sighing, she stroked her nipples, imagining his hands on her breasts. The tight peaks pebbled under her touch, sending mini-shock of pleasure to her pussy. She rolled the taut flesh between her fingers and her pussy clenched, the tight, familiar ache humming in her belly.
Under the scented bubbles, she let one hand float above her pussy, wiggling her fingers to move the water against the space between her legs. The slight motion of the bath water against her sensitized flesh made her sigh and she moved them again, letting the water lap at her like a lover's tongue.
She slid her fingers between her folds and against her clit, a slow drag that sent a shiver of excitement through her. A soft moan escaped her lips and she gave her nipple a gentle pinch, massaging it. Her head fell back against the bath pillow as she rubbed herself into a haze of pleasure. The water surrounded her, holding her in its warm embrace.
Sam threw one bubble-slicked leg over the side of the tub and continued to caress herself, the orgasm building inside her. Her breath hissed through her teeth and she moved her fingers faster. Just a little bit more....
A noise came from downstairs. A soft whump, like something hitting the carpet.
Sam scrambled out of the tub and knocked a candle to the floor, which sputtered out. Her body hummed with unspent sexual energy and fear as she forced her robe over her still-wet skin. She raced to her bedroom and grabbed her pearl-handled pistol, a present from a former boyfriend who had gone off as fast as a shot and hadn't seen the irony in his gift.
Whoever had interrupted her own pistol going off was going to pay. On her way out of the bedroom, she snatched her cell phone off its charger and dialed a 9 and 1. Why the heck hadn't her alarm gone off? She checked the panel. It said "armed". What was going on?
Her bare feet were silent on the carpeted stairs. With each downward step, adrenaline pumped through her body and she gripped the pistol tighter. It was probably nothing, a sound from outside, but she was wound so tightly that she wouldn't be satisfied until she searched every room, then finished what she started in the tub.
Downstairs, she moved quickly through the rooms. The back door was secure and the alarm was still armed. The living room was quiet and the dining room was still. Her studio was quiet and secure. It must have been her imagination. Her neighbors would think she was crazy, turning every light in the house.
Sam pushed the door to the library open and did a cursory glance of the dim room. She lowered the gun to her side and shook her head at herself. The over-excitement must have caused her to start hearing things.
As she turned to go, a movement by the front window caught her eye. She raised the gun and pointed it at the shadow. "Don't move," she said. "I have a gun."
The figure froze.
Sam flipped on the light with the hand that held the phone. Her eyes widened as she recognized the intruder.
