"The Good Life" (closed)

[MarieDavisRPs]

"The Good Life"

PLEASE NOTE:
This role play is open to 1 writer,
but to join, you must PM me first.
Don't simply post a reply
and think I'll write with you.
Thanks a bunch.

If you are female and are interested,
I will edit below to fit a female character.​

Marie turned her little rusted out 1982 Ford Fiesta into the employees only driveway at the back of the Harden Valley Country Club. Parking in the employees only lot, she looked around for any signs of the very exclusive club's members. She saw none, of course, as the fences and rows of arborvitae were designed to hide the employees only areas from the patrons.

After punching her code in at the employees only entrance of the building, using the employees only stairs to descend to and through the employees only food preparations area, Marie finally arrived at the employees only locker rooms. She changed into her servers uniform, checked her look at the full length mirror near the exit; it was plastered with all sorts of moral-building sayings that were, of course, aimed at pumping up her desire to perform her best not for her benefit but for the benefit of the members. After all, they didn't want their drinks and salads and entrees and desserts and even more drinks being brought to them by some sourpuss minimum wage food services worker.

Marie had been working at HVCC -- what some of her coworkers called the Home of the Victors of Capitalism and Corruption -- for almost eight months; it was part time work to allow the club not to provide benefits, and by dividing the workers into two separate corporate entities, workers were able to work six or sometimes seven days a week for far more than 40 hours without receiving overtime.

Marie had begun in the kitchen scrubbing pots, moved on to clearing tables, and had recently been promoted again to waiting tables. Sometimes, dealing with uppity-ups who thought they were better than 99% of the rest of the country's population, Marie wished she was back scrubbing pans again.

But sometimes, just sometimes, you got to serve someone who didn't look down on you like the trailer park trash that secretly you were, and it was those days that Marie found herself wondering not how many different ways these snobs could just suddenly die or, worse yet, lose their fortune but instead wonder what it would be like to live in their world ... and how she would go about accomplishing that.

With her barely adequate public school education and a total lack of connections in the business world -- her father cut and delivered firewood, her mother worked as a seamstress for a locally owned dry cleaner -- the only asset Marie had that might help to elevate her into the next rung on the ladder of good living was the one many of her older friends and even relatives had used: their bodies.

Marie personally knew at least seven women from her side of the tracks who'd made good by becoming trophy wives or simply mistresses to older, well-to-do types, a couple of them from this very club. She had no interest in becoming some rich guy's whore, though, which was why after a couple of dozen seemingly polite invitations and nearly as many suggestively lewd ones, Marie still hadn't hooked up with any of the single or even married men who spent their afternoons and evenings here with their male friends, rather than at home in their McMansions with their wives and families.

In amongst all these men who stared at her bosom and buttocks as if they were getting ready to bite into them, there was one man for whom Marie had long contemplated scratching out the line between her and what would essentially be prostitution. She'd begun holding ever longer conversations with him about his life, about her life -- about which she lied, of course -- and about the world in general. She'd come to learn from talking to him and other staff that he had been widowed young, that he was currently single despite having an active social life, and that he was just what Marie would want out of a man she gave herself to: rich.

So many times after she'd decided I could give myself to this man, Marie had tried to find a way to make a move without looking like she was a gold digger. She'd finally decided to let him make the first move, and yet he'd never hit on her. Marie had found that odd: almost all of the single men at Harden had, as well as had half of the married ones.

One night while talking and drinking with Josie, her best friend told her, "You have to do something bold. Go for it! The worst thing that can happen is you embarrass yourself by coming across as a gold digging slut."

"And get fired," Marie reminded the other girl. "I need this job."

But Josie had been right. Marie needed to go big or go home; if she got fired, she'd go back to working with her father. It was a dead end job, but then so was her current job.

She began paying more attention to her target, learning more about his habits in relationship to the Club. She'd learned that he had used his influence as a long time Club member to get access to the inside swimming pool before the club was actually open. Every Tuesday and Thursday morning he would get in his swim, go to the outside pool -- if it was a nice day -- and sit for a while in a chaise lounge while listening to the birds sing.

Marie decided to make her move there. It made sense; he would be there, she would be there, and if all went right, no one else would be. But go big or go home kept coming back to her, and she knew that simply walking up to and engaging him in conversation didn't fit the bill. So...

Marie rose up naked from below the surface of the pool, drawing a deep breath that swelled her bared bosom conspicuously. Just as quickly and dramatically as she'd sucked in the air, she let it out in a gasp. Then, she locked eyes with the only other person there.

"So sorry," she said casually, "I thought I was alone."

Marie glanced over her shoulder at the Olympic sized pool, looking back to explain, "I like to get in some laps before the Club opens."

She leaned her upper body forward, balancing on hands pressed flat against the brickwork of the pool as she very acrobatically lifted the lower half of her body upwards. She put her feet on the patio's edge, then rose tall, presenting her full deliciously womanly figure to him.

She was petite, just 5'2 and barely 100 pounds. The water dripping down her body made her appear darker skinned than she actually was. A multitude of brownish-red freckles covered her flawless skin from forehead to toes; the same was true on her backside, from scapula to heels. The water darkened the auburn hair on her head but didn't do the same to hair lower on her body as there was no hair lower on her body.

Walking casually his way with her bare feet slapping softly on the brickwork, she stopped just within reach of him, looked past him to a glass top table, and asked, "Can you hand me my towel?"

 

[saedo]

Simon had always been a morning person. He preferred to tackle his days quickly. Early bird gets the worm, after all.

Also, he enjoyed the solitude afforded by being awake while most of the city was still asleep. As usual, he'd arrived at the Club before official opening hours for his morning swim. (As a board member, he had certain special privileges.) Only a handful of staff were even on-site at that hour, so he had the pool wholly to himself.

While he'd passed his 50th decade a couple years back, Simon was still only a few seconds off his college lap times. His lean, muscled frame slice through the water with practiced ease.

Afterwards, Simon rinsed off the chlorine and donned a soft terrycloth robe. He exited the indoor pool to the nearby veranda and took a seat in one of the many lounge chairs. The Club had a magnificent view of the eastern horizon, so he liked to come here to watch the cavalcade of colors as the sun rose. The slight chill of the early morning airwasworth the hint of grass and flowers at his nose and the chirp of birds in his ears.

Today, however, his morning solitude was interrupted by an unexpected splash to his right. He turned towards the Club's exterior pool which abutted the veranda. In hismany years of thissemiweekly dawn ritual, he'd never seen anyone use the outside pool at this hour. (Simon preferred the fixed temperature of the indoor one, so he never used it himself.)Yet today, a human form surged upwards, hands planted on the surrounding tile to thrust their torso fully above the surface.

The individual hovered in this positiona moment, their chest swelling with a sharp, audible gasp of air. After a short pause, they planted their left knee on the poolside tile. With some grace, they clambered out out of the water and stood in the morning sun.

Simon watched the shortscene in a slight trance. First, the individual was a stunningly beautiful young woman. Second, she was entirely naked.

She ran her hands across her hair, squeezing droplets of water down her torso. The gesture thrust forth breasts of incredible size, causing them to jiggle and shimmer in the dawn light. The chill in the morning air turned her nipples into obscene towers atop each gorgeous mound. Her lean torso narrowed to a tiny waist before flaring into full hips and prominent backside. It was like a living version of Botticelli's painting.

The vision lowered her arms and opened her eyes. Spotting him in his chair, a bemused smile crossed her full lips. "So sorry; thought I was alone."

If she was at all embarrassed about her exposure, she showed little sign of it. Instead she strode towards him, her hips swaying in that sultry way that only women seemed capable. Simon needed a rather Herculean mental effort to lift his gaze upwards as she approached: from his seated position, her naked pussy was almost level with his eyes. The smooth, delicate flesh was completely hairless, further emphasizing her nether lips.

Wresting his eyes back to her face, he finally recognized her as familiar. She was on staff at the Club. She worked the bar in the lounge sometimes; he remembered idly conversing with her late at night as he sipped 20-year-old scotch. Clearly she was also adept at playing down her appearance; he recalled her as being pretty, but nothing like the naked Aphrodite now approaching him.

What was her name? She'd been fun and maybe a little flirty, as he recalled. He ought to remember. Though Simon did attract a fair share of female attention, most of that flowed from women in their 30s and 40s. As a wealthy widower with an adult daughter, he had an appeal to many in that age bracket. But she looked to be young; college-age, like his daughter Gwen. Maybe younger.

Simon rose instinctively to his feet as she neared. She looked even younger from this height. She still made no attempt to cover herself, standing with her hands at her sides. A pair of very rude nipples seemed to point directly at him as he tried to keep his eyes on her face. "Can you hand me my towel?" she inquired, pointing to a table to his left.

Simon followed her finger and spotted the folded terrycloth towel. He reached for it and handed it to her. "Here you go." He paused. "It's Marie, right? From the Club Lounge?"

Her smile confirmed his recollection. Rather than drape the terrycloth around herself, Marie began to towel off. Flashes of her luscious body bounced into view as she rubbed herself from head to toe.

Given her apparent disregard for her nudity, it felt prudish to comment on it. Fortunately one of the virtues of age was that his libido wasn't on a hair trigger. His teenage self would have had a most unseemly bulge beneath his own robe long before now. The more mature Simon could at least keep that aspect of his attraction under control.

"Do you often take swims in the Club pool like this?" he inquired, keeping his blue eyes on her green orbs. "I'm out here usually twice a week, but I can't recall seeing you." His gaze flickered momentarily to the cleavage on display above her towel. "And I'm pretty sure I'd have noticed."

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

"It's Marie, right?" Simon asked, causing her to smile slightly at his recognition of her. "From the Club Lounge?"

"Yes sir, Mister Idris," she responded with a soft tone and a slight smile. "It's nice to be recognized, thank you."

Marie hadn't honestly known whether or not Simon would recognize her. She was, after all, just a waitress, sometimes in the lounge during the nighttime hours, sometimes in the restaurant during the daylight hours. And she wasn't the only young, pretty face or body working the Club, though, it was unlikely that than many of the latter had been seen as hers was now on the private establishment's grounds.

Then again, though, Marie had heard stories of some of the illicit relationships -- short and long term both -- that had taken place at Harden, sometimes between members only but more often than not between male members and female workers.

"Do you often take swims in the Club pool like this?" Simon inquired, doing a wonderful job of keeping his gaze on her eyes, despite the on again, off again flashing of her breasts as she dabbed herself with the towel.

"Occasionally," Marie said with a soft voice and slight smile. "Staff isn't actually permitted to use the Club's facilities except on certain dates when the whole of the place is shutdown for complex wide maintenance."

Marie wasn't telling Simon anything he didn't know, of course. He was more than just a Club member; Simon was a Board member.

"I'm out here usually twice a week, but I can't recall seeing you."

Marie began wrapping the towel around her torso, which left her entire front side open to his view for a second or two. She was impressed, though, that Simon didn't take another ogle of her until after she was covered; the soft cloth wrapped tightly around her C-cup bosom flattened and boosted it, creating cleavage that she typically only displayed with a bra picked for that same, attention-gaining reason.

He added as he looked back up to her, "And I'm pretty sure I'd have noticed."

"Why, Mister Idris, that almost sounded like a come-on compliment," Marie said with a flirty tone and smile, reaching out to ever so lightly touch his forearm before pulling back again. "If it was, I thank you again."

The sound of a door slamming in the distance caused Marie's flirty humor to disappear in a flash as she looked for witnesses to her termination-level workplace violation. After seeing no one else within view, she took off for the door that would get her into a hall that would then get her to the Employee Locker room. But before she went through, she stopped and looked back to Simon.

"I work the lounge tonight, Mister Idris," she said with a wide smile. "You know. In case."

Her lips spread even wider as she gave him a moment to respond or not, then disappeared from his view. She hustled down the hall, desperate to get to the locker room unseen and barely making it before she heard one of the groundskeepers who apparently could only whistle one irritating song.

At her locker, Marie dropped the towel and held her hands out before her; they were noticeably shaking, and she didn't honestly think it was because of the chill that had been slowly invading her body since coming out of the heated pool. She giggled, then chuckled out loud, wondering, How the hell did you pull that off? Amazing!

The door opened and one of the young women with whom Marie worked in the restaurant expressed surprise that she was here. She responded, "Yeah, I know, I, um, I had to come get something from my locker I forgot."

"And you needed to be naked to get it?"

Marie laughed and began dressing. "Well, I, um, I forgot my favorite bra and panties set, so..."

The other woman just looked at her with a confused expression and shook her head. Marie finished dressing and got away from the Club as soon as she could, not wanting to draw any more attention. At home, she stripped and showered to -- as Simon had -- clear herself of the chlorine feel and smell on her skin. What she did that she hoped Simon didn't done was pull down the massaging shower head and use the pulsating stream to drive herself to a badly needed orgasm.

After she'd recovered and finished her shower, Marie found herself giggling again; as the water had been pounding on her clitoris and vulva, slowly driving her to satisfying heights of ecstasy, she'd been imagining herself laying on that Club patio lounger with Simon Idris's head between her legs.

Marie hurried through the chores list left by her father this morning before he went to work. He wouldn't be home until almost 8pm, after he'd finished a part time shift at his second job. After that, she ran errands, including grocery shopping, for her mother who had worked the morning shift at the nearby diner and -- after a short nap -- would be heading to her second job, too, this one as a cashier at the local convenience store.

"Can I lay down with you, mom," she asked when she got home, slipping into her parents' bedroom at an inviting wave. She cuddled up next to her mother like she used to do when she was so much younger. "I'm working the lounge tonight. I'll be home around three. I'll be quiet coming in."

Marie expected a reply, but her tuckered out mother had already begun drifting off. They napped side by side for almost four hours until the cell phone alarms almost simultaneously began sounding. An hour later, they were both heading out the door to go chase the American dollar.

She changed into the uniform appropriate for this portion of her job, and fearing she was late hurried to the lounge's back entrance. Marie realized that her breathing was speedy, from the anxiety of not knowing whether Simon would be there or, if he was, how he would react to her.

She'd been naked before him today! That had been so bold but so absolutely crazy, too. What was he going to do? There was the great possibility of bad news being ahead of her. She already knew the good news: she hadn't shown up at work to find a Please see Human Resources note in her locker.

She took a deep breath, which caused her bosom to press out against the stiff poly-blend blouse. Remembering the morning encounter, then the shower fantasy, then her end-all goal, which was to inject herself into Simon Idris's life, Marie reached to her chest and unbuttoned the topmost of her two buttons. It wasn't what you could really call a plunging neckline. But if he was sitting at one of the tables as opposed to the bar, Marie knew that leaning over to present him with his menu, drink, or bill would flash just a hint of the lacy red bra she wore beneath.

Here we go...

 

[saedo]

Why, Mister Idris, that almost sounded like a come-on compliment

Now that he'd a little time to settle into the surrealism of the situation, Simon could hear the flirtation in her voice. And more than just a "I want a good tip" from a server to a patron. Interesting.

The sound of an exterior door closing shook her for a moment. Her eyes darted anxiously towards the sound and her hands made sure the towel fully concealed her body. Apparently she was quite comfortable letting him see her naked, but not so the other staff.

"Probably one of grounds crew heading out," he suggested. "Usually see them start in another ten minutes or so."

Marie flashed him a quick smile, but a bit of timidity now colored her movements. She began heading back towards the main building. He had the sense of Cinderella leaving the ball before her coach turned into a pumpkin.

Still, she did pause to look back and mention she was working the Lounge tonight. For that brief moment, she had the same saucy gleam in her eyes as she had climbing out the pool. Then she dashed inside, her bronze legs carrying her rapidly away.

Simon had half a mind to follow. This strange interlude had raised questions. But literally chasing after a young girl in a towel seemed ill-advised. Besides, he was feeling the chill as well. He hunched his shoulders and returned to the locker room to shower and dress for the day ahead.

~~~~~~~
"You're going to the Club tonight? You don't usually go to Club on Thursdays." Gwenn mused aloud from the doorway, a note of curiosity creeping into her voice. Daddy was a creature of habit, so a departure from his routines was implicitly interesting.

"That's not a problem, is it?" Simon replied as he buttoned up his shirt. "You said were going out tonight and I'd be on my own for dinner, right?"

The blonde folded her arms across her ample chest and leaned against the door jamb. "Right," she conceded. "But usually when I say that, you order delivery from Andiamo's, open a bottle of wine, and read a book here at home. So why go out?"

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then a grin tugged at her cheeks. "Dare I hope you're actually meeting someone?"

Simon cast a smirk at his daughter. "Not this again. I tell you that I am perfectly fine on my own.

"Daaaaaad," Gwenn sighed with overdramatic emphasis. They'd had versions of this conversation about a thousand times in the last few years. "You've been like the most amazing single dad ever since Mom died and I'm glad I never ended up with a witchy stepmother, but you don't have to live like a monk. You should get out there. You know I'm right."

Simon sighed in return. This was a somewhat rote disagreement by now. Yes, he had kept close to home in the years after his wife passed. There'd been interest, of course. A few brief flings here and there, a smattering of infrequent encounters; he hadn't been a monk. But always away from his daughter; Gwenn had been his primary focus those years.

But in the last few years, Gwenn's attitude towards her father has been dating someone not her mother had shifted. Simon implicitly realized she was probably right about getting back out there, but had steadfastly failed to take that advice. Hence Gwenn's petulant sighs.

"Well, I'm going to be around other people at least," he offered. "That's something."

Gwemn giggled. "You can be a real stick in the mud, Dad. Yes, I suppose that's something." She stepped closer and put her arms around him. "I just want you to be happy, Daddy."

Simon returned her hug. "I know, sweetheart. I know. It's one of the reasons I love you so much." He tilted her face up so he could kiss her forehead. "Now what time will you be home tonight?"

"Late," Gwenn declared. "I'll text you if it will be after midnight, but don't wait up." She gave her father's ribs another squeeze and bounced towards the door. "Have fun at the Club, Daddy."

~~~~~~
Simon recalled his daughter's words an hour later when he was sitting in the Club Lounge. It was atypical for him to come here on a Thursday night. So why the change?

He sighed mentally. It was the girl. Unquestionably. Try to as he might, he'd been unable to shake the images of the naked beauty from this morning.

But it wasn't just a lascivious interest. Her behavior had been so curious. Her story hadn't rung quite true. He was too regular in his patterns not to have noticed her in the mornings before. He'd never seen another swimmer out there, naked or clothed.

And the idea of her as a Club employee who routinely skinny-dipped in the exterior pool just for the thrill? No, he'd dredged up his recollections of conversations with this Marie. She was young and inexperienced, to be sure. Probably could do with some advanced education. But foolish? Reckless? No, that had never been his impression. Marie was bright and sensible. She'd not have risked a good job on a whim.

So then why? This he pondered over his scotch as he sat at a table near the back. It took about half an hour before his gut instinct proved right.

Marie stood at his table, smiling that same saucy smile from this morning. Though fully clothed now, his mind immediately pictured her naked. Boy, she'd done quite the number on him, hadn't she?

It was actually somewhat impressive how demure she could be. The staff uniform was a crisp red blouse and charcoal skirt for the women. While you could certainly see she had a pleasant shape, her curves had been sharply constrained, concealing just how truly voluptuous she was.

Ah, but that wasn't quite true. Marie had apparently missed a button on her blouse. When she bent forward to refresh his drink, he got a brief glimpse of very deep cleavage. Far subtler than this morning, but no less potent.

"Marie, stay a moment," he interjected. Simon leaned towards her slightly. The Lounge was only mildly busy, so they wouldn't be overheard; still he pitched his voice lower all the same.

"This morning . . . and now . . . it's not just random coincidence. That was deliberate. I saw you because you wanted me to."

He paused a moment. "I'm not complaining. I liked what I saw. I liked it very much. I am glad that you did it. But I am curious as to why.

His eyes bore into hers, utterly fascinated by her. " I don't think it was whim. You had a purpose. A plan. A goal. You wanted something. Something from me. Well, you have my undivided attention, Marie. Tell me what you want."

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Marie was very excited to have Simon here, yet at the same time she was nervous. She'd really put herself out there this morning in an attempt to get his attention, and it seemed to have worked. Yet she knew she couldn't think of him as a fish on her hook. Marie was a 19 year old girl from the wrong side of the tracks; Mister Simon Idris was ... well ... he owned the tracks.

It had occurred to her after she'd brought him his first drink tonight -- smiling politely, greeting him with a bit more flirt in her voice than normal but not too much, departing with a tad more sway in her hips and ass -- that she didn't really know where Simon Idris had gotten his money.

Maybe he did own the tracks, literally, like that Vanderbilt guy she'd learned about in American History senior year. Or maybe his daddy had handed his fortune to him, telling him Do good things with this, or at least have fun while you lose it all.

No, Marie couldn't imagine that at all. She had heard just enough about Simon to believe that his fortune was legit; he'd either expanded an inheritance or was a self made man, but he was no spoiled child destroying daddy's legacy. Did she know that or just feel it? Felt it. But with confidence. If she hadn't, she would have picked another Club member with whom to set this whatever it was in motion.

She had one chance at this. She wasn't going to blow it by choosing the wrong man. Simon Idris was the right man.

Marie had been glancing his way often between dealing with the rest of the lounge's patrons. She would let him catch her peeking before looking away and smiling. It reminded her a bit of her 3rd grade crush, afraid to be seen staring but unable not to do so.

She saw him drain his tumbler and signaled to him that another drink was on its way. Upon arriving this time, though, their exchange of polite words and knowing glances resulted in Simon asking, "Marie, stay a moment.".

A chill ran up her spine, and goose flesh flooded much of her body. Marie had known a conversation about this morning had been in the works, and while she was surprised it hadn't happened yet, now that its arrival seemed imminent, she was suddenly so nervous she almost wanted to run away screaming.

"This morning . . . and now . . . it's not just random coincidence. That was deliberate. I saw you because you wanted me to."

Marie expected a fiery blush to fill her face and neck, and yet she somehow avoided it. As Simon had seen this morning, her body had a nice, golden tan to it, but beneath that she was naturally fair skinned, and tan or not her face, neck, and sometimes even her shoulders exploded in red upon embarrassment.

He continued, "I'm not complaining. I liked what I saw.

And ... there it was; the heat filled her skin as she diverted her eyes from his, then felt the need to turn away as if searching for another patron who needed her attention. She wasn't about to run screaming, though. She was beyond that. Tonight was about Simon, about her, about her desire to interject herself into his life. Marie wasn't about to give up on that unless and until Mister Idris made it clear that she was on a path that led no where.

He continued, "I liked it very much. I am glad that you did it. But I am curious as to why."

"Why?" she asked softly, her first word on the subject.

"I don't think it was whim," he stated confidently. "You had a purpose. A plan. A goal. You wanted something. Something from me. Well, you have my undivided attention, Marie. Tell me what you want."

Marie studied Simon a moment before repeating his question, "What do I want."

She looked about to ensure she and he weren't attracting attention from others -- which they thankfully weren't -- and looked back to the man for another long moment before saying softly but with confidence, "I want to take a swim in your pool. You have a pool, don't you? At your home?"

Marie knew he did, of course; during one of her many intelligence gathering ventures while working the restaurant, she'd heard him and his Club friends discussing the amenities of their lavish homes. Some of the establishment's patrons liked to brag about what they had: pools, stables, garages full of antique or exotic cars, even servant quarters that housed maids and cooks who did far more personal things for them than make the bed and cook the meals.

She'd never heard Simon brag about such things, though, for all Marie knew, he had and she'd simply not heard it. No, she'd only just heard him mention having one, which had been part of the reason she'd begun this new episode in her life skinny dipping in the Club pool.

With a more serious tone and a volume meant only for Simon, Marie told him, "You have a good life, Mister Idris. Or, at least ... I get the sense that you do."

A patron passing behind her caused Marie to go silent a moment before continuing, "I've often wondered what it would be like to partake of that good life. Not just any man's good life ... your good life ... Simon."

It was the first time in over 8 months of serving him that Marie had ever used his first name. Even this morning when she'd been standing naked before him, she'd used his surname, oddly maintaining a sense of reserved formality while the water was still dripping from her chill-hardened nipples and between her lower set of slightly trembling lips.

"No, this morning was not a whim," Marie continued, her confidence somehow building within her despite knowing deep down that she was a nothing-nobody and he was a man who could easily destroy her life or, on the other hand, give her all she'd ever wanted in life. "I had a purpose ... a plan ... a goal..."

Marie had been listening intently to all Simon had said, and now she repeated it all back to him almost word for word with an extra little something added to make clear her answer. "I wanted something from you, your attention ... undivided or not ... so that you wouldn't miss me telling you that I would like to be part of your good life ... if ... if that is something of which you have an interest."

Suddenly, Marie felt her confidence sag, though, for what reason she couldn't be sure. Looking about again for eavesdroppers or prying eyes, she said in barely above a whisper and with a bit of a tremble in her voice, "I'm not a whore, Mister Idris. I just..."

Marie went silent, unsure of how to better explain that. She wasn't a whore; she didn't give herself to any man with an interest and fifty bucks. But for Simon Idris, Marie was ready, willing, able, and anxious to do what it took to be a part of the life he lived, and if that made her a whore, then so be it.

 

[saedo]

I want to take a swim in your pool. You have a pool, don't you? At your home.

Simon raised an eyebrow at that. To be honest, he wasn't sure what her response would be. But definitely not a request for swimming access.

Fortunately, Marie moved on in a more serious tone, making clear the pool was a metaphor for. He listened intently as she spoke of "the good life" he had and how she wanted to be a part of it.

She was right that he lived well. Though he could not claim to have come from nothing, he'd certainly exceeded his middle class upbringing to a position of wealth and status. But she wanted to share in that . . . how, exactly?

Perhaps his face conveyed something of his hesitation. Marie got quiet and her voice grew less confident. "I'm not a whore, Mister Idris. I just . . ."

He blinked at the term. It was a bit . . . harsh. But such relationships weren't unknown to him, even if they were described more circumspectly as "escorts". He'd used some over the years when Gwenn was younger. As his daughter sometimes hinted at, he hadn't lived entirely like a monk during his years as a single father. Never frequently, but certainly enough for him not to be judgmental about the practice.

Still, the look in Marie's eyes suggested she wasn't quite so sanguine about the idea. Simon reached out momentarily to touch her hand. "No one is suggesting that, Marie," he insisted quietly. "No. One."

He glanced around. "No," he murmured. "Let's not discuss this here." Quiet though the Lounge might be tonight, it felt too public to be bandying about words like "whore" with a female staff member half his age. "Head back to work," he directed. "I'll come find you in a bit."

~~~~~~~
Simon lingered over his scotch a solid twenty minutes and kept his eyes away from the luscious beauty. Fortunately the Stevensons passed by and provided an excuse for a public chat. He wanted some distance between his earlier encounter with Marie before approaching her again.

When he felt safe doing so, he strode towards the exit. "Darrius, I'm going to borrow Marie for a bit," he said, gesturing to the senior bartender. His gaze shifted to the young girl. "We've got that college stuff in the Board office, so let me show it to you before I head out."

Darrius glanced at the modestly busy Lounge; he could certainly get by with one less server. But even if it were inconvenient, he wasn't going to quibble with a Board member. "No problem, Mr. Idris. Take all the time you need, sir."

Simon strode forth without waiting. He heard a moment later the click-clack of her heels as she tried to catch up to his longer strides. Simon didn't look behind, but went to the Board office. It did not get used much save for the monthly meeting, but it was nicely furnished and assuredly private.

Simon let her inside and closed the door after them. "Sorry for the confusion," he declared. "I thought a cover story might be a good idea and I figured you were college age, so . . ."

He paused a moment. "You are college age, right?" His recollection of her naked crotch this morning came to mind. He missed the days when women had a bit of hair down there. A nicely trimmed bush was a sign of maturity and very sexy, in his opinion. "Yes, yes, I remember you mentioning a birthday some time ago."

He directed her to one of the plush leathery couches around a central coffee table. Simon then took up station at the other end and twisted towards her. At arm's length away, he could see the faint freckles scattered across the grudge of her nose.

"Now we can speak freely. So where were we? You are no a . . .," Simon began, but trailed off. "You are not that word. No one is saying otherwise."

"But you walk up to me wet and naked, so I have to assume you intend something sexual. Then you tell me you want part of the good life. So it sounds like you're proposing a . . . transaction?"

"I'm also unclear about why me. You're right, I have a good life. I am wealthy. I have a nice house. And a pool." He tilted his head. "But so do most of the members of this Club. And I can name a dozen that are wealthier who'd certainly be interested. More if you include the married ones willing to sneak around. And then there are plenty of successful young unmarried men in their thirties if you're husband shopping. "

Simon wagged a finger. "But I'm pretty sure you already know that. Yeah, you do. You've worked her long enough that you've probably met most of the men I'm thinking of. Probably even been propositioned by more than a few, I'm guessing. But you're propositioning me, not any of them. Why? "

He chucked aloud." Sorry. I realize I'm being cerebral about this. Its not that that I'm not interested. You are an extremely attractive young woman, Marie. I would very much like to do the things I think you're suggesting. My younger self wouldn't have waited this long. Probably have taken you right there at the pool."

He laughed again as he envisioned the scene. Marie naked benreath him, screaming with pleasure as he pounded her pussy. And probably with a dozen grounds crew and early tee time golfers staring in disbelief once the noise attracted their attention. He'd been so arrogant and reckless back then.

Simon sighed and returned to the present. "But I'm not 25 anymore. I'm a widower with a grown daughter who tells me a stick in the mud, so I can't help but wonder why a beautiful girl half my age makes such an offer to me.

" And just what are you offering? To be a one night stand? A mistress? A girlfriend? The future Mrs. Idris?" Simon raised his hands in confusion. "Help me out, Marie. I'm not saying no, but I'm not sure what I'd be saying yes to."

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

"No one is suggesting that, Marie," Simon insisted quietly after Marie swore she wasn't a whore. "No. One."

The man's response was a relief; Marie had suddenly become so anxious about how he would take what she'd said that she feared she might tear up and sob. But she drew a deep breath and steeled herself.

Simon sent her back to her work, and half an hour or more later -- during which she often looked his way, only to not see him do the same -- he came to the bar and asked her supervisor if he could borrow her. She didn't immediately understand the college reference; Marie had wanted to go to school, but the Grants would have been insufficient and her father refused to let her partake of the loans.

The Board Room was a part of the Club in which Marie had never been permitted, its cleaning and care the duty of a very select few. Knowing that this was part of Simon Idris's natural habitat only impressed her more, which he may or may not have noticed in her smile as she sat down with him.

"You are college age, right?" he asked with what Marie thought might be a bit of panic.

She giggled, realizing that Simon might be worrying that earlier today he'd gotten an eyeful of life-destroying jailbait. She reverted to his surname again, reassuring him, "I'm 19, Mister Idris.

With that out of the way, Simon dismissed her use of the word whore to describe herself and spoke about her nakedness and reference to the good life leading him to believe, she was proposing a transaction.

Marie wasn't sure how to better explain herself or whether she even needed to. Instead she simply said quietly, "I was."

"I'm also unclear about why me," he continued, confirming that he had a good life but that there were far more men that might better suit a beautiful, young woman like herself. "But I'm pretty sure you already know that."

"I do," she said, her voice again soft.

"Yeah, you do," Simon went on. He spoke of her months here and the many men she would have met. He was correct in assuming that a good number of them had hit on her or gone farther by trying to seduce her. He asked, "But you're propositioning me, not any of them. Why? "

Marie didn't even begin to respond to Simon's question. There were a great many things about him that made her the perfect man for what she was doing. His age didn't for a moment present a road block; in fact, it was his age that was part of the pros, not the cons, of her decision to choose him as her potential sugar daddy.

Simon spoke about being cerebral and about how his younger self would have already been inside her, confessing, "But I'm not 25 anymore."

"If I'd wanted to be with a 25 year old man," she said with a polite smile, hoping to further reassure him that he was the man for her, "I would have chosen one of them, not you."

He spoke of being a widower with a grown daughter, to which Marie's expression and tone became more solemn. She moved back to his given name again, telling him with a sincere tone, "I'm sorry to hear about your wife, Simon. I'm sure it was hard on you and your daughter."

A moment passed, and Simon finally got to the heart of why he'd brought Marie into the Board Room and why she'd bared her body to him earlier this morning. "And just what are you offering? To be a one night stand?"

Marie couldn't help but chuckle softly, adding quickly, "No. Not a one night stand."

"A mistress? A girlfriend? The future Mrs. Idris? Help me out, Marie. I'm not saying no, but I'm not sure what I'd be saying yes to."

Marie had played this moment over and over in her head since long before coming out of that pool naked. "I'd like to come home with you some time. Tonight ... tomorrow ... this weekend. I'd like you to show me around what I presume is a beautiful home. I'd like to sit down to dinner with you ... sip a bottle of wine ... maybe some of that Cognac I heard you telling Mister Peterson about after he bragged about his own bottle of it."

She hesitated a moment, wondering what Simon was thinking about her reminding him of a conversation he'd had almost three months ago. Would he think she'd been invading his privacy? Or would he realize that her choice of him wasn't something about which she'd only just decided this morning.

"I want to take my clothes off and dive into your pool," she continued, her voice and tone confirming that she'd practiced this and was determined to get it right. "Then, after I've swam its length and enjoyed its warmth and come out to have you wrap me in a long, soft, flowing robe ... I want you to join me in a shower ... to help me wash the chlorine from my body ... then ... join me in bed for a night of pleasure."

She hesitated again, having told him what she wanted to do. But she hadn't gotten to what she wanted in return. Looking deeply into Simon's eyes, Marie said, "And then the next morning ... I want you to be honest with me. I want you to tell me whether or not you enjoyed yourself ... whether or not you'd like to be with me again ... maybe often. I want you to to tell me whether or not you might want me to have a drawer in your dresser ... space in your closet ... a key to the front door."

After one last pause, Marie said it as simply as it could be said, "I want to please you, Simon, in what ever way you need pleasing. And I want you to take care of me in return. To let me partake of you ... and of your good life."

 

[saedo]

Marie spoke at length about her expectations. Simon listened, scarcely believing his ears. On the one hand, it was ridiculous nonsense and perhaps a little insane. But on the other hand, it was sweet and aspirational and even a little romantic. And still a little insane. The combination had him sitting slightly perplexed as she concluded.

"Riiiiiight," he exhaled. He looked into her eyes. At this distance, they seemed impossibly large and soulful. "Riiiiiight," he repeated.

The impulse came out of nowhere, but his body responded before he'd time to consider the merits. His fingers slid into her hair and pulled her face towards him. He suspected the surprise in her eyes was likely mirrored in his own: what the hell was he doing?! But then he shut his eyes as their lips touched and pressed softly together. After a moment's awkwardness of just whose face tilted just so, everything slid into place. There was only warmth and comfort.

When they parted, they were both breathing a bit heavier. Her cheeks had flushed, heightening the few freckles lurking beneath her eyes. "Sorry if that was a bit forward," Simon apologized. Granted, she'd just offered to sleep with him, but still, he'd moved a bit quickly there. "I just couldn't keep looking at you and not kiss you."

He sat back onto his end of the couch. Physically it was a few inches, but mentally it provided it made the dustance less intimate. He found it easier to think coherently at this range.

"You don't make it easy, Marie," he chuckled. If she'd offered to suck his cock twice a week in exchange for cash, that would have at least been simple. Crude, but easy to understand.

"Quite the elaborate script for how this night together would go," he continued. His finger and thumb caressed his chin as he pondered her a moment. "You've never done anything like this before, have you? A grand proposition to a man, I mean."

He knew at a glance he was right. "But it's more than that, isn't it? You're not very experienced with sexual relationships in general. Maybe a few times? Or less? Or none at all?"

God, could she be asking him to be her first? It seemed unlikely, but then Marie had thusfar proven to be anything but typical.

" It doesn't matter," Simon continued, waving his hand dismissively. "But the fancy dinner in the house on the hill with wine and candles bit. That's brand new to you. That's the fantasy."

He rubbed his chin again. "The safe play would be to say this is a crazy idea and just walk away. Because it is crazy. Absolute bonkers. You're way too young for me. Waaaaaaay too young. Or I'm too old for you." He winced. "Ouch. That hurts to say. But like I said, I am twice your age. What would people say about that?"

Marie seemed content to let him think aloud. Another point in her favor. Despite their differences and only casual interactionss, she seemed to "get" him on a fundamental level.

"But if it's so crazy, why do I still want to do it?" he continued. "Makes no sense, but there it is. There it is." He took a deep breath. "Fine. Let's do it."

"Or rather, part of it," he amended. "I will invite you over to my house for dinner and wine and all that. But no swimming and showing and sleeping together." Simon hesitated. "No expectation, at least. We have a nice meal, talk, and have a pleasant evening. But no sexual obligations attached. If we're both feeling it, maybe. Maaaybe. Otherwise, it's just a nice meal with a friend and no one gets their feelings hurt. Okay?"

Simon reached into his jacket for his phone. " But if we're going to this, let's do it right. Give me a sec. "

He dialed. "Julia? Yes, it's Simon Idris. That's right. Yes, it has been too long. How are Frank and the kids? Good, good. Gwenn is good, too. Yeah, almost done and then med school. Yeah, very proud, very proud."

The small talk continued a few minutes before he circled back to his original intent. " Anywise, I called for a slight favor. I'm going to be sending you a young woman in need of a dress. She's been invited to some fancy dinner thing, but money is tight and she doesn't have anything to wear, so I thought maybe you'd have something nice. Maybe something from last season. Ah thanks. No, no, just send me the bill. Friend of Gwenn from school, so I thought I'd help her out. Yeah, sweet girl who needs a break. And having raised a daughter, I been told about the importance of a nice undergarments. So if she needs something silky, then throw that in, too. I know, but it's only money and it's for a good cause. Exactly. I knew you'd understand. Oh? Marie, I think . I'll tell her to ask for you. Thanks Julia, I knew I could count on you. "

Simon hung up. " There, now you can look the part. I'll give you the details. Julia is the owner. We're on the symphony board together. She'll take good care of you. "

" Alright, I guess we're doing this. Let's say, Saturday? Maybe 8ish? "

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Marie's eyes widened in surprise as Simon leaned toward her, took the back of her neck in his hand, and pressed his mouth to hers. This was the last thing she'd expected. It wasn't unwelcomed, though; she gave him the lead, found his style skillful and pleasing and erotic, and did her best to make the moment as enjoyable for him as it was for her.

When they parted, Marie whispered almost imperceptibly, "Wow."

"Sorry if that was a bit forward," Simon apologized. "I just couldn't keep looking at you and not kiss you."

"That's okay, Mister Idris," she said, playfully using his surname again before adding, "I promise I won't press sexual harassment charges ... if you won't file indecency charges against me for skinny dipping in the Club pool this morning.

Marie giggled a bit as he leaned back into his end of the couch. She realized suddenly that her heart was beating noticeably quick.

"You don't make it easy, Marie," he chuckled.

"My daddy says if it was easy, it wouldn't be worth it," she responded, adding, "My mama says if it was easy, anyone could do it. I'll tell you that while I make this look easy, it's not. But ... if all goes well, it will be worth it."

He spoke about her well rehearsed script, asking if she'd ever done something like this grand proposition before.

"No," she said simply, leaving it at that. Simon would either believe her or not.

He asked about her sexual history -- sexual relationships, actually, and Marie was tempted to tell him that she'd only ever gone all the way with two men. But before she could find a way to explain it, he said, "It doesn't matter. But the fancy dinner in the house on the hill with wine and candles bit. That's brand new to you. That's the fantasy."

"That's part of it," she confirmed with a devilish smirk. "There's the weekends away in Bermuda ... and the ski trips to Vale ... and the little black dress with sexy undergarments that I'll wear if you ever take me into public. Oh ... and then there's the pool."

Marie smiled wider yet, wondering whether Simon was remembering her naked this morning and imagining her naked again in his pool ... right before he put his cock inside her tight, young pussy.

"The safe play would be to say this is a crazy idea and just walk away."

Marie's smile faded a bit, even more so as he talked about how crazy -- absolute bonkers -- this all was. But then he confirmed that he wanted this as much as she did with, "But if it's so crazy, why do I still want to do it?"

She wanted to support his desire to be with her, to push him farther to the do it side of the line dividing crazy from not so much so. But Marie didn't know what to say other than You want to fuck me as much as I want you to fuck me, and that simply didn't seem appropriate.

"Fine. Let's do it."

Marie smiled wide, a sudden sense of relief flooding through her. She didn't know what she would have done if Simon had said no. She couldn't have continued to work here, seeing him every couple of days, serving him while each of them recalled what had happened here today.

She listened as he made a call and told several fibs about who she actually was in relation to him. And she realized suddenly that the financial support for which she'd begun this madness was already flowing her way in the form of clothing she could never afford on her own.

As he was finishing, Marie contemplated what he'd said about not partaking of sex their first night. It worried her; she knew men wanted her, and that her greatest asset was her body and what she could do with it. Hell, even if she wasn't up to their tastes in bed, her youth and relative inexperience would be enough to satisfy most men. Often, many of them only cared that they were laying claim to a young thing who only a few if any men had every had before them.

Would she be able to satisfy Simon's companionship needs if he had not empty his balls inside her once, twice, ten times over the their time together, how ever long it had been.

"Alright, I guess we're doing this," Simon said after he'd set his phone aside. "Let's say, Saturday? Maybe 8ish?"

"Saturday, eightish," Marie repeated. She wasn't sure what to do now that they'd made their plans; it wasn't like he was going to strip off her panties and fuck her here on the couch, although Marie wouldn't have stopped him if he'd tried. Things could have been awkward if each of their cell phones hadn't begun vibrating almost simultaneously. She answered hers, listened, responded, then told Simon as she stood quickly, "There's been a bit of a disaster with a keg in the lounge. I have to go."

Marie started to walk away, then paused, moved back to stand over Simon, then leaned down to take his face in her hands and give him a soft but erotic, parted lips kiss. Then, smiling, she pulled away, turned, and hurried off ... giggling.

 

[saedo]

"Do you suppose I could have the house to myself on Saturday?" Simon casually inquired at the breakfast table.

"Sure," Gwenn mumbled around a mouthful of raisin bran. "I was probably going to spend the night at Keiko's anyway."

Simon had a faint hope that might be the end of it, but his daughter wasn't dumb. She just wasn't a morning person like her father, so her brain was still a bit sluggish at this hour. Consequently, it took a minute before her intellect to kick in. "Wait. Why do you want me out of the house?"

Simon really didn't want to answer that question. The full truth -- he had invited a teenage exhibitionist gold-digger with a crush on him to join him for dinner -- would be embarrassing when stated aloud. But part of his single dad role had been convincing the then-blossoming Gwenn that she should always be honest with him about alcohol, drugs, sex, and other such weighty topics. He could not now betray those years of trust by lying about his own activities.

"I'm thinking I might have someone over," he replied with a shrug, hoping he made it sound uninteresting.

No luck. Gwenn set her spoon down and narrowed her eyes. "Daaaad," she said slowly. "Are you having a girl over?"

Simon took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Yes," he confirmed. He wagged his finger at Gwenn's gleeful grin. "No, no, don't smile like that. It's just some dinner and conversation. Don't go making this into something it's not."

Gwenn's eyes glittered with amusement. "Dinner in, though. And you want me out of the house. Seems kinda . . . intimate."

Simon could feel the tips of his ears hearing up. "Stop it," he grumbled. "It's not nice to tease your father."

Gwenn giggled. "I know. But it's just so much fun." She giggled again. "Okay, I'll stop. But do I get to know any details about the mystery woman?"

"Her name is Marie," Simon conceded. "And this was her idea. I've known her just in passing for awhile, but then she approached me and . . . sorta asked me out." That "sorta" was covering a lot of unspoken detail, but Simon wasn't about to tell his daughter about Marie's poolside stunt.

"Really?" Gwenn marveled. "Well, you go, Daddy. So what's she like?"

Simon held up a hand. "No, let's not get too hyped up just yet. Honestly, I'm not sure this is going to go anywhere. But it was nice to be asked and my daughter is always hounding me about getting back out there and trying new things, so I figured I'd give it a try. But let's not make it into anything significant, okay. Your Dad is a little rusty at this stuff, so he doesn't need the pressure of expectations. "

" Okay, okay, " Gwenn retreated. " No pressure. I will make myself scarce tomorrow, no problem." She picked up her bowl and carried it to the sink to rinse out. " I hope you and Marie have a pleasant time and I'm sure she'll want to ask you out again. "

Gwenn sidled towards the door. "Just be sure to use protection," she teased.

"Gwendolyn!" Simon bellowed, his cheeks flushing. But his daughter had already dashed away, amused laughter at this last verbal barb drifting behind her.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

When she arrived at Boutique Julia, Marie found that the three women working were otherwise without patrons. She soon found herself being fawned over by the entire trio; the two younger women fetched dress after dress, as well as multiple pairs of heels of all styles to match. Wraps, purses, adornments and more appeared from display cases, inventory drawers, or hooks on the walls.

All this while, Julia herself had been standing aside, surveying and offering suggestions, often shaking her head and asking her underlings such things as What's in your head, girl? or Would YOU wear that? No, move on.

Marie found herself simply overwhelmed by all this attention from women who she may or may not have been properly thinking of as fashionistas. The closest she'd come to this kind of delightful treatment had been having a part time, minimum wage Walmart sales girl who was actually from the electronics section hand her a belt, advising, Try this.

Everything was going well, and what was called the perfect dress was finally found. The four of them began looking at undergarments that went well with both the dress and the body on which it was to be seen.

And then...

"Shoo ... shoo!" Julia commanded the other two young women, waving her hands at them to depart as she demanded, "I'll finish with our friend here."

Marie was confused at first, wondering about the sudden change in Julia's attitude. She'd been fairly serious thus far, of course; this was her establishment, Marie was ultimately her responsibility as a patron, and Mister Simon Idris was, of course, a very important client.

But Simon was more than just a client in regards to this search for the perfect dress ... and the bra, panties, garter, and stockings to go with it. Marie was simply too unknowing about such situations to have realized that the questions she'd been asking about what undergarments were proper to have realized that she'd let the cat out of the bag.

And Julia had every intention of putting that cat back in the bag. Once the other two women had wandered off to do stock and, luckily, deal with another patron who'd just entered, Julia waggled a long, outstretched finger at Marie and demanded, "Take that off. That just won't do."

"But ... you said yourself, it was perfect," Marie said, confused.

"Perfect for dinner with college friends and associates at a banquet, yes," Julia responded, moving forward to help Marie out of the dress. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, "But far from perfect for dinner with Simon Idris."

Marie's eyes opened wide and her entire upper half went cold as the blood rushed out of her in shock. She met Julia's eyes when the woman moved to her front to help her out of the dress, and she could see in the proprietor's face that she knew all. She didn't know what to say.

Luckily, Marie didn't have to say much. Julia took control, picking out a handful of dresses that were entirely different than anything they'd looked at thus far. When Marie quietly questioned whether either of the three would look nice with a garter and stocking, Julia snorted, telling her, "Such accoutrements are not necessary for a woman of such beauty, particularly after I put you in the right dress."

Marie suddenly found the nervousness of the past hour washing away as Julia the magician tended to her with a professionalism the teen had never experienced in her life. Julia found the perfect dress, as well as a simple but still sexy pair of panties and a matching, strapless bra.

"No stockings?" Marie asked again, uncertain.

"No stockings," Julia confirmed.

"And no garter belt."

"For heaven's sake, no."

"But I thought men--"

"Not a man like Simon Idris," Julia cut her off. "Simple. Elegant. Sexy."

The true fashion guru stood back after the teen was dressed, saying with a pleased and proud smile, "Marie ... you don't need anything more than this dress ... that body ... and Simon opening the door to see both."



The door of the Idris home opened, and Marie almost instantaneously exploded in a blush as Simon's gaze fell to the dress he'd bought her. He'd paid for more than that, of course, though he might now realize it until his credit card statement arrived later in the month.

"Do you like it?" Marie asked, lifting her hand to gently touch her radically different hair style. Julia had sent Marie down the street to a friend's salon, where -- again on Simon's dime -- her hair had been washed, treated, rinsed, trimmed, treated again, rinsed, dried, curled, and finally put up in an intricate display for which Marie had already searched the internet so that she could try to do this herself in the future.

"Julia called it sophisticated ... said it made me look five years older..." She giggled, blushed yet again, then added, "She said that that would make you appear to be less of a cradle robber."

Marie giggled again. "She told me not to tell you that, but, I think she secretly wanted me to. I like her, Julia. She was very nice to me. She sent me to a salon."

She probably hadn't needed to explain that last part to Simon, but Marie was lost in this new feeling. She held her arms out and did a slow turn all the way around until she was facing Simon again.

In addition to the incredible hairdo, Marie had been treated to full body skin conditioning, exfoliation, and things of which she'd never heard and, in some cases, couldn't pronounce; she'd gotten a facial obviously, and had had a very natural looking makeup treatment that, surprisingly, hadn't hidden her freckles, which the cosmetologist had said was -- beyond her delicious body -- Marie's most defining feature.

Stripped to the skin, she'd had her less than professional hair removal enhanced via a method of which she'd only recently discovered after reading one of those Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous type online blogs. When the trio of aestheticians was done with her, Marie felt tingly all over, as well as being as smooth as a newborn's butt from her neck to her toes.

"Are you going to invite me in?" she finally asked Simon after he'd had his moment to appreciate that for which he'd heavily paid. She giggled again, looking up to the sky before looking back to her host. "It's cloudy up yonder ... and if it rains on me, all of this will have been for naught."

 

[saedo]

Simon looked over the auburn-haired beauty at his doorstep. "It's a nice little dress," he declared.* "Actually a bit more understated than I expected."* Admittedly, the neckline did permit a bit of cleavage, but not aggressively so. Marie's plentitude made the shadowy sliver on display quite deep, so it was a subtle way to say "great tits within".*Meanwhile, the lower half fit loosely around her body and draped down to her knees.* "Yes, quite graceful."*

His instinct to send her to Julia had been two-fold. Given Marie's various references to her background, she might not have had an appropriate dress. He hadn't wanted her to feel out of place.* But also, he knew firsthand that curvaceous teenage girls tended not to favor "understated" when given access to Daddy's credit cards.* Given her bold performance poolside, Simon feared Marie show up wearing something skintight and that he'd spend all night trying not to ogle.* Julia's influence had avoided him that fate.*

Still, he was less enthused that Julia apparently knew more than she should.* "Cradle robber?" Somebody must have been chatty, "* he declared with narrowed eyes. "Julia will be dangling that little tidbit over me for months." He sighed. "Still, she's not one to gossip, at least."

Simon stepped aside and beckoned her in. Faint smells of oregano and thyme wafted their way as they headed past the foyer into the main hall. "FYI, the bathroom is just down that passage there on the left," he commented as they neared the center of his home. "We have the place to ourselves; my daughter is staying over at her girlfriend's tonight. I can give you the grand tour after we eat if you'd like. But I've got a sauce on the stove, so I need to get back to it."

He led Marie into the a large kitchen with stone countertops and a central island. A stainless steel pot of boiling water bubbled on the stove at the back. Next to it rested a smaller, covered pot; when Simon lifted the lid, a chorus of spices filled the air from the simmering tomato sauce. "Just a simple vodka-based sauce, but quite tasty. "

Simon added pasta to the boiling water and set a nearby timer. "I assume you'd like a glass of wine," he suggested, pulling a bottle of Cabernet out of the refrigerator. Simon poured her a glass before refreshing his own. "I've also got a salad in the fridge and some bread warming in the oven."

Simon sipped from his wine as he looked over his guest. "You do look lovely. I hope my cooking skills prove adequate to the task. I usually order in, but I thought a personal touch might be more in order. Plus, I don't get to do it that much now that Gwenn spends more time away. So thanks for giving me the excuse."

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

"It's a nice little dress," Simon declared. "Actually a bit more understated than I expected."

"Yeah, me too," Marie responded with a small shrug. "But Julia said it was perfect ... perfect for you."

Marie's eyes dropped a moment before she looked back up. "I'm sorry if I got you in trouble with your friend."

She didn't know Simon or Julia or any of his kind enough to truly know whether or not this ... thing happening between them and the possibility that it would become public was going to hurt Simon somehow. Older men dated and even married younger women all the time. But Simon was in his 50s and Marie was still months away from no longer being a teenager; he was more than twice her age and much closer to three times her age. Cradle robber. Marie knew it wouldn't be the last time someone had spoken those words, even if Julia had spoken them in jest.

"She didn't seem like the type of lady who would spread gossip," Marie reassured Simon unnecessarily and without a true knowledge of the other woman. But whether she knew it or not, Marie was right. After finishing with Marie, Simon's friend had even continued to speak of the college banquet with her two sales associates, to further bolster the false story. Again, for no reason other than it was true, Marie said, "I liked her. Julia. She reminded me of my gramma, only ... still alive and with nicer clothes."

They headed inside, and Simon gave the nickel tour before they ended up in the kitchen. And all the while, Marie's eyes were wide and her head was on a swivel. She'd never been in a house like Simon's: huge though not Bill Gates huge; as spick and span as a tech industry clean room; plush décor with elegant furniture and real paintings on the wall and in one corner a full sized statue of what Marie thought must have been a Goddess in someone's culture; and ceilings so tall that she and the kids from the cul-de-sac could play basketball inside.

"You have an amazing home," Marie complimented, trying not to sound like she'd never seen anything like it. Then, before she knew what she was doing, she admitted, "I've never seen anything like it. Well, I mean, 'cept for on television."

"Gwenn ... that's your daughter's name, right?" Marie asked as he tended to his sauce. She was about to ask whether or not Gwenn had enjoyed growing up in the good life into which Marie herself was trying to inject herself. But that didn't seem to be the conversation to be had at the moment, a 19 year old speaking about the barely-into-her-20's daughter of the man she was offering up her body and company in general for a taste of said good life. Instead, Marie tried to end that topic with a simple, "I like that name. It's pretty."

As she'd been talking, Marie had been wandering aimlessly around the kitchen island taking in the view. She found herself amazed at how different Simon's kitchen was from that of her own. Everything seemed as if it had been purchased yesterday and put in place just for her delight. She'd never been in a kitchen where all of the pots and pans matched and each had its own matching lid; all of the glasses in the cupboard were from the same set as opposed to there being two of this type, one of that, three or the other; after casually pulling open a drawer for a peek, Marie found all of the silverware -- even the straining spoons and butter knifes and other such specialty items -- had the identical pattern, with not a single rogue fork or spoon bought at Goodwill or a yard sale to fill in for the originals that had disappeared over the years.

She closed the door, found Simon looking her way, and giggled. "I'm not casing the place, in case you were wondering. It's just ... it's just all so perfect and beautiful ... and..."

Marie looked to the pot on the stove, smiled wide, and changed the subject. "...and that smells incredible."

She moved up close to Simon, leaning over the stove top to take in a deep sniff ... while her hand casually reached up and found its place upon his hip. Pulling back again, she looked up into the head-taller man's eyes, smiled again, and told him with a bit of a sultry tone, "I can't wait."

Marie backed away slowly, her eyes on his, her smile wicked, her sway a bit more obvious. She turned from Simon, looked about the kitchen a moment more, then -- as she neared the kitchen door -- looked back over her shoulder and announced, "I'm going to go case the rest of this joint. Holler when dinner's ready."

She saw the look in Simon's face and wondered what was going on in the brain behind it, but she didn't stick around long enough for him to speak his mind. Back down the hall and out in the foyer, Marie just stood and looked around in awe. If she hadn't already known what was happening or what more might happen here tonight, she would have thought she was on the public tour of the home-turned-museum of some pioneer who'd made it big in lumber or mining or one of those other industries that had resulted in libraries and college wings all bearing the same surname.

Marie looked back to see if Simon was following; she didn't expect it -- he had a sauce -- but even if he did, that was going to change anything. She headed down a wide hall with doors flanking both sides, opening each to take a peak: a library, an entertainment room, a gym, a ... what was that called, solarium? Again, they weren't Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, but they also weren't 6th Place and Dawson where Marie lived ... the proverbial wrong side of the tracks.

She ascended the wide staircase to the second floor, finding the same incredible art work on the walls and spotless carpeting and yet another sculpture, this one just a bust but no less impressive as the first. There was something different about this one, though; it wasn't the classical sort of work -- the face, the hair -- and Marie found herself wondering whether or not this might have been Simon's wife.

It was just a thought; she was probably wrong. But if it was a depiction of her dearly departed, Marie found herself jealous of the startling beauty of the woman's face. She found herself wanting to ask Simon about it, but how would she -- the young thing hoping to claim a place in such a woman's home -- ask such personal and possibly heartbreaking questions. No, no; it was better just to keep her mouth shut and assume the bust was some random piece of art Simon had purchased at an art auction house.

And then, while her mind was filled with thoughts of Simon, his wife, his daughter, and the good life they'd enjoyed, Marie found herself standing before the open door of an incredible bedroom.

 

[saedo]

I'm going to go case the rest of this joint. Holler when dinner's ready

Simon looked up, but Marie's ass was bouncing out of sight before he could speak. He was momentarily irked. It was a bit presumptuous on her part to think she'd free rein over his house. She was just a guest at this point. Whatever her desires, he'd not yet agreed to this kept woman idea of hers. She should be asking permission.

But then if he wasn't harboring desires for her, why was she here? He could easily have declined her proposal, but he hadn't. Instead, he cleared out his daughter and had cooked dinner. Also, that weight feeling between his thighs was quite palpable. So woukd he really refuse her desire to explore.

Plus, she was so young. So very young. Such enthusiasm unlimited by caution was only natural. She'd definitely need to be trained.

Simon focused on the meal. The pasta didn't require much time to cook and the food woukd be best served hot. He prepared the side dishes for service as the durum noodles approached al dente texture. He strained it all and then began mixing the pasta in with the sauce for the last couple minutes to soak up the flavor.

With the meal ready to serve, he set out in search of his wayward guest. He found her lurking at the entrance to his bedroom. He watched a moment, but Marie made no effort to enter. Apparently she recognized the potential intrusion into his private space.

He watched her a moment. Was she imagining what it'd be like to share that bed with him? To spread her naked thighs and take him deep within? Simon felt himself imagining that very possibility as well.

"Dinner's ready," he murmured as he approached her from behind. "The rest of the tour will have to wait." He placed a hand at the small of her back and steered her towards the dining room.