Helen felt good about swimming. She was happy to have spent time with Paul. He didn't talk much, but he paid on time, he was generous, and he let her into his life in ways. She felt better with him than without him. Today was supposed to be her day off. Her daughter was with her father, and it was a rare peaceful day. She was at home watching TV when her phone rang.
"Helen." It was Paul.
"Good morning Sir."
"So formal. Do you have plans for today?"
"No Sir."
"I am going to my beach house. It's been locked for a while. Can you come and help me with it?"
Helen was torn. She really wanted a day off. She was tired. What kind of person had two houses? She didn't understand expatriates. How could you have two houses? At the same time she was curious about it, knew she would make some extra money, and still felt the throbbing from Paul's attention at the pool. Hopefully if she went there would be sex on the beach...
"No problem Sir. When do you need me?"
"I always need you." He laughed. "I will pick you up at noon at the Reel gas station on the beach road. Bring a change of clothes, we might be there late." He was so sure. He was always so sure.
"Ok Sir." Helen was still a bit stunned about how her plans had changed, and she smiled thinking of his teasing.
Paul had just finished a very annoying negotiation and needed to decompress. He had a palace in a resort community on the atlantic, and he was rarely able to spend any time there. The resort belonged to one of his companies, and he kept a place there which he rarely used. He needed the silence, to hear the waves and smell the salt water. He realized the place was probably a mess, and Helen's touch would make it habitable way faster than he would be able to on his own. Besides she was a great way to relax. She was really calm, and funny in her way, and he figured she had a great personality under the shyness. It would all come out in time. She also knew exactly what to do, and when to do it, and how hard to do it. She was this perfect mix of submissive and intuitive that distracted him.
He got in his mercedes benz jeep and raced down the beach road. She was at the Reel gas station as promised, in a red t shirt and shorts, with matching flip flops. She smelled incredible as she got in the car, and he could feel his cock harden just thinking about the rest of the day. At this rate the house would never get done.
"How are you?"
"I'm fine Sir."
They chatted about asinine things at first, and Helen explained all the different local villages on the beach road that he had never paid attention to. He got to know more about her daughter, her ex, and her life. She had had a hard life, working manual jobs after barely finishing high school. She was really positive, and had a burning hunger for independence which he found impressive. It was clear she couldn't quite place her finger on him, and he was this exotic creature who wasted money and didn't understand things that were basic to her.
She liked to dance, and she knew all sorts of moves which made her fantastic in bed but also explained her graceful walk. He realized he was liking her more and more, and not just because she was convenient.
They got to the house, and Helen was stunned. This place was larger than any house she had ever lived in before. It was a chalet facing the atlantic, on two levels with a balcony upstairs facing the ocean. It was breezy and casual inside, with large windows which had been sealed. Opening them up, the breeze blew through the house, which was filled with paintings and carvings, all locally made. The place was covered with dust. Helen sneezed.
"I think you should start upstairs. It's my room, and once its done I can get some work done and be out of your hair." Of course Paul brought his computer and some documents to work on.
Helen made quick work of his office, and once he was in position she got started on the rest of the house. It was sparsely furnished, but she could see the things were expensive. It was a warm day, and she took her shirt off, wearing only her bra. That soon came off, so she was dusting and sweeping in her shorts. She sang softly to herself as she worked, and in time she lost track of time as she cleaned the house. She sweated heavily, and by the time she got to the kitchen she needed a drink of water. She opened the fridge, and took a bottle of water which they had brought with them. She drank deeply, and as she drank some water spilled on her firm breasts, making her wriggle. Goosebumps rose on her breasts. It was refreshing, and she closed her eyes, sighing as the cool water poured down her throat.
As she shut the door of the fridge she started. Paul was on the other side of the door! She hadn't heard him come downstairs.
"I see you've worked up a sweat!"
"It's hot here. I'm sorry." She suddenly felt shy.
Paul laughed. "You have nothing to be sorry about. You're magnificent."
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck, then her collarbones, then the notch at the bottom of her throat, then her chin then her left cheek, then her right cheek then her thick, soft lips. She matched his passion, seeking his tongue, parrying it, playing with it, and running her hands through his hair. He pressed her against his chest. Her nipples were hard, and she sighed as he stroked them. He bent over, sucking her right nipple, licking her areola as her nipple stiffened further. He gently held up her firm breasts. They were large and soft. He licked then sucked each nipple. She gasped as he sucked them. It was like he had a hotline to her pussy. She got wetter with each second. He stopped and started kissing her again. She pressed into him, feeling his heat. He was like a furnace. She glistened with sweat.
He cupped her bottom, feeling her firm ass. He pushed his hands into her shorts, rubbing his fingers over her pubic mound, stroking her vagina, parting her lips. She was soaking wet. He hugged her closely. She felt his hard cock through his shorts. He was ready for her. But it was not to be. He pulled back and looked at her. Her eyes opened and locked on to his. He held her hands and kissed her lightly on the lips. "It's sweaty upstairs too."
She was in a daze. He turned and pulled her. He had her left hand in his right. There was a shower outside, on the back porch. It faced the beach. It was usually to allow Paul wash the salt water off before he got into the house. The ocean was two hundred yards away, across a sandy beach with coconut trees and palms. There was no one there. Paul silently moved her under the shower. He turned it on. In the heat the warm water was welcome. He turned it off and lathered her with shower gel and a washcloth from a fresh pile in the basket next to the shower. From her neck, to her back, to her shoulders, under her arms, between her breasts, her stomach, her pussy, between her ass, the back of her legs, her thighs, her calves, even between her toes. He had her nice and soapy. Then he did himself. His arms, back, chest, thighs, crotch, legs, calves, feet.
