by Tessa Vidal
Simona’s house was a ten minute walk across Pullen Park from mine, but the difference in neighborhoods was stark. Mine was in a sad little part of Oakwood. It was one of the few streets that hadn’t been gentrified. Her house was a palace compared to my tiny apartment. It was inside a small loop at the top of a hill. The area was very secluded for being inside the city limits. Birds chirped in the trees, each lawn meticulously landscaped.
It was 7:55 a.m., and I stood outside on the sidewalk in awe of her house. It was huge. I needed to get this feeling out of my system before I went inside. I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate having her home gawked at by me. White columns surrounded the porch, and though I wasn’t well-versed in architectural terms, I think it was Greek revival. It sat on the corner, taking up half of the block.
“Amber? Are you coming in or not?”
Shit. She caught me. I could feel my face turning red. The urge to flee was upon me. But it was better to face her than run away. I looked up to see Simona wearing a tight white t-shirt that left nothing to the imagination. Her skin was radiant, and the curves of her breasts immediately drew my eye. The black pajama bottoms were sheer in the morning sun, barely concealing her long sleek legs.
How can I face this every morning?
“I’ve got coffee made. I’ll pour you a cup. Come on in!” I forced my mouth shut and followed her into the house.
“Sorry I was staring, but your house is so beautiful. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” I stammered. The hallways were filled with framed black and white photos. A grand piano had its own room. What do they call them? A conservatory? In the next room was a mahogany billiards table. A dartboard hung on one wall which had an intricately carved wooden bar. Despite the beauty, something disturbed me. I wrote it off to my being unfamiliar with opulent surroundings.
Her office was more like a library. The walls were floor to ceiling shelves filled with books, most of them I knew from handling myself. The ceiling was domed with skylights which flooded the room with light from the morning sun. A leather couch and a coffee table took up the first third of the room, and a double sided desk took up the rest.
“Please, have a seat.” Simona requested.
I walked toward the couch to sit. Her velvet voice stopped me.
“No, you will share the other side of the desk. Please, sit across from me.” She gestured toward the leather chair across from hers.
I sat up straight in the high-back chair, and for a brief second felt very important. I had a computer monitor and keyboard, and a small filing cabinet sat to my left. There was a large stack of paper in the middle. Apparently I was to hit the ground running, all systems go. I looked up at my new boss and grinned.
“So, this job is flexible, but demanding. I created a list of your responsibilities, which I placed on top of your paperwork. They include tax and insurance forms. You’ll be an employee of my restaurant company, but work directly for me.” She rubbed her temples with both hands, making me wonder if something was wrong. Maybe she had a headache?
“The list is honestly the bare bones. You’ll be helping me with so much more than that, but it’s a start. Today is your first day, but after filling out your paperwork, I’m sending you home. Something has come up, and I have to leave the house for a while. I won’t have time to go over your duties. Tomorrow I’ve cleared the calendar, and we’ll be a team starting then. It will probably take an hour or two to fill out your paperwork, so why don’t you take care of that. I’m going to work out, then get ready to go. I’ll pop back in here to check on you.” Simona left, and it took all of my willpower not to ogle her as she walked by. Her olive skin and taut frame cast a spell over me.
I shook my head, hoping to clear it of my inappropriate thoughts and focus on the paperwork. It was the usual tax forms, and I’d been sure to bring ID with me in case she needed it. I opened the top desk drawer to find a pen when I heard the soft pad of bare feet on the hardwood floor behind me. I turned in my chair, immediately confronted with a mostly naked Simona. She wore a flimsy pair of shorts and a t-shirt, a white towel hanging from her neck.
“If you look out the window in front of you, you’ll see my gym in what used to be the garage. If you need anything at all I’ll be in there, or in the pool. It’s right out that window too.” She stammered, then jogged out of the room. With the serious flesh on display you’d think that would be all I could think about, but it wasn’t. It was her eyes, ringed by lashes so thick and long it was almost like she was wearing makeup. But they were all hers. The only flaw, if you could call it that, were the dark circles under her eyes. Lack of sleep, I guessed.
That’s when I figured out what was bothering me about the house. Aside from the books, there was nothing personal here. No pictures of friends or family. I scanned her side of the desk and it was also devoid of any personal items.
Knowing she was outside the window working up a sweat was a distraction I didn’t need. Somehow I finished the paperwork and resisted the temptation to spy on her. Wondering what to do with myself, I inspected the library.
Most of the books I knew first hand, but there were quite a few she had acquired from other dealers. I had a funny feeling I’d be resuming her book hunts, so I didn’t feel bad about looking through the collection. Her tastes were similar to mine but more eclectic. Two shelves had locked glass doors. These held the expensive rare books that needed a controlled atmosphere and extra security. I spied a first edition of Peter and Wendy, by J. M. Barrie, and The Catcher in The Rye, by J. D. Salinger. Both appeared to be in perfect shape. If either were signed, they were worth my annual salary.
The only thing out of place in the entire room made me smile. It was a copy of Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. It was a new copy, not rare or expensive. I opened it to where she’d marked her place and read the first line that caught my eye.
“He thought her beautiful, believed her impeccably wise; dreamed of her, wrote poems to her, which, ignoring the subject, she corrected in red ink.”
Cold, yet a warm sentence. I never imagined her a reader of Woolf. It added a new dimension to my employer I found fascinating.
A splash from outside interrupted my thoughts. I tiptoed to the window, knowing I shouldn’t be spying on my new boss, but unable to help myself. The yard was bigger than I thought, with a lap pool in the center of a courtyard. She had turned the garage into a gym with floor to ceiling windows. It looked to have everything you’d ever need if you wanted to look like the woman swimming laps in the pool.
Oh, yeah, the Goddess.
Her back glistened as her muscular arms and legs propelled her up the length of the pool. I thought I saw her look in my direction and I jumped back. Something about watching her from afar had my heart racing, and I felt an intense heat building deep within.
I shook my head, trying to clear it of the sensual images flooding my head. A picture of Simona’s arms wrapped around my trembling body burnt into my brain. It was hypnotic, watching her arms and legs propel her through the water with barely a splash. Damn it, I had to get a grip on myself. I’d end up being fired if I walked around in a state of uncontrollable lust every day. Frustrated at my lack of control I wrapped my arms around myself, wanting what I knew was out of reach.
Lost in my fantasies, I didn’t notice Simona climbing out of the water until it was almost too late. Like a deer trapped by headlights, I watched in a daze as her defined shoulders pulled her torso inch by inch out of the pool. The sun’s rays reflected off the droplets of water clinging to her bronze skin. My eyes landed on her breasts, hidden by a sleek black swimsuit that accentuated every curve. As her body emerged, I realized I was holding my breath, my pulse rate doubled.
Then my sanity returned. I turned from the window and sat on my side of the desk. Paperwork completed, I thought about food, television shows and tropical birds. Anything that would make this raging storm building inside go away before Simona returned.
My hands shook as I tried to get my key in th
e door. I’d berated myself on the walk home. The inability to keep my thoughts professional bothered me. I needed this job, and if I ever got caught snooping, I would lose it in a heartbeat.
I didn’t know what to do with myself. These urges were overpowering my good sense. I shouldn’t be having them. Her eyes looked directly into mine whenever I closed them. I didn’t know how to react to these feelings. I’d been a hermit for so long that lust was an unfamiliar companion.
I finally got the key into the lock and once inside I threw my bag on the couch and headed to the kitchen. A glass of wine might calm me down. I opened the fridge then wondered if the wine was still any good. The bottle had been opened a few months ago, and I’d forgotten about it until now. I filled a juice glass and brought it to my lips, then wondered what Simona’s skin tasted like.
“Jesus Christ, get it together girl. You need this job.” I said aloud, then drank the contents of the glass in one big gulp.
I left my glass in the sink, went to the bedroom and threw myself on the bed. I grabbed my laptop, opening the novel I was never going to finish. I could pour my frustrations into the manuscript. Anything to get rid of the gnawing desire growing in the pit of my stomach. Memories of Simona greeting me this morning were fresh in my mind. The black pajama bottoms clinging to her legs, and the contrast between her olive skin and the tight white fabric of her t-shirt played on repeat. I worked harder to keep the image of her nearly naked body swimming laps further away.
Maybe I should just get it out of my system, give in to the fantasy just once. I’d be able to be around her without wanting to run my hands through her thick, glossy hair. Damn, it looked so sexy slicked back and wet. I mean, how could I sit across from her every day and not think about her holding me tight against her lean body? I would only do this once, and that would be it.
I unzipped my slacks and moments later my clothes were on the floor next to the bed. My hand slipped down into my panties and I caressed my wet folds. A moan escaped from my lips, and I withdrew my hand long enough to get my panties off.
“Oh fuck.” I whispered as my fingers found my clit. My other hand ran back and forth over my erect nipples, squeezing one and then the other while I slipped a finger deep inside. I groaned, impatient for the satisfaction I needed and wishing it was Simona, not my hand.
Only once, this is the only time you are allowed this fantasy, and it’s just so you can get it out of your system, okay?
My eyes snapped shut, and I imagined Simona on top of me, her mouth moving closer to mine. It was like a movie, the action happening in slow motion. When her lips made contact, I imagined her tasting sweet, with a hint of saltiness that made me even wetter than I was moments ago.
“I want you.” Simona breathed, then lightly dragged her lips down my chin to the tender skin of my neck. I felt my hips rise and fall and imagined Simona pressing her curves against me. In my mind Simona laughed softly, enjoying the sound of my pleasure. I pinched my nipple with one hand while imagining her tongue circling it, then taking it in her mouth.
“Oh God…” I heard myself whisper, then I removed my hand from my pussy. While I worked for Simona I couldn’t ever indulge in these fantasies again, so I wanted the experience to linger. After a moment I dragged my fingers down my stomach, a feathered touch that caused my skin to pebble. I caressed the skin of my inner thighs while avoiding the immediate need building up inside.
I imagined my fingers in her thick black hair, pulling her face up to mine for another soulful kiss, our tongues intertwining. I found my fingers moving closer to my mound, and soon laid my palm flat against it, pushing against my palm and pretending it was Simona’s thigh. I was now on top of her, rubbing myself against her taut, muscular flesh.
Finally I caved in to my desires, the ache between my legs overwhelming my hopes of making the fantasy last. Soon my hips were gyrating as I gave in to the passion threatening to overwhelm my senses. My fingers rubbed my clit with sensual strokes that made the pressure inside hit a zenith.
“Yes, oh yes. Simona, yes.” I said as the floodgates opened, and for a few moments I was lost to the world around me. Every nerve in my body sang with ecstasy, and when I came out of my swoon, my body was still trembling.
I opened my eyes, the late morning sun filtered through the blinds across my body sprawled on top of the blankets. I closed my eyes against the bright light, imagining Simona’s lips pressed against mine. Her face pulled back, and her golden brown eyes were open with wonder. Then I realized it was only a fantasy.
Familiar feelings of disappointment washed through me. I knew I could never be what a woman like her wanted. I left the bed and went to the bathroom and glanced in the cracked mirror on the wall over the tiny sink. A tear was sliding down the side of my nose. I caught it with my tongue and went back to bed.
Simona
Two weeks of a perfectly managed household and office spoiled me. Amber was the most efficient personal assistant I’d ever had. Hiring her was a stroke of genius. My correspondence was caught up. The new cleaning staff she hired were like ghosts, always there but never seen. She didn’t just warm the pastries in the morning, she made muffins from scratch. All done in silence, allowing me to get my work done faster. I had free time, a first.
This came at a cost; an uneasy feeling all was not well. Like a fire needed putting out though I couldn’t see or smell the smoke. Maybe I was restless, unused to the expert handling of my day-to-day life provided by Amber? Whatever the cause, if I disregarded my natural tendency to micromanage everything, it was smoother than it had ever been. I could only think of one reason for the lack of chaos- the hazel-eyed woman sitting across from me.
I looked up, hoping to see Amber’s eyes, but her auburn hair hung over her glasses. Something about them was reassuring, but she rarely let me see them. She always looked down or away. I’d tried provoking conversation for no other reason than I wanted to hear her voice, and I never engaged in needless chatter.
Until now.
My straitlaced assistant had no interest in me, beyond the fact I signed her paycheck. It took getting used to. Her predecessors had all wanted to be my best friend, or more.
I sighed. She glanced up and smiled, then went straight back to the invoices she was entering into the computer. I could have danced naked on my desktop and she’d not notice. If she did, she’d probably ask if I wanted music with a better beat. Should she order a pole for me to practice on? Maybe I wanted to provoke a reaction. I wouldn’t get into self-analysis, but something was amiss. It was driving me crazy.
My other PA’s had been flighty and talkative. They wanted to chat over the desk about silly things. Sometimes I even hid in my bedroom to get away. Amber was the opposite. She was prompt, diligent, more than competent, and when she spoke it was professional. No chit-chat about the latest concert or boyfriend/girlfriend who’d done them wrong. Being friends was not part of the job description, and she followed that description to the letter.
Damn it.
Was that the problem? Did I want to be friends with her? If so I’d better get over it soon, because I was a lousy friend. The quiet girl on the other side of the desk would have nothing to do with me if she really got to know me. I rose from my side of the desk, needing to escape the room, and my thoughts.
“I’m going to make some more coffee. Would you like some?”
“No thanks. If I have any more, I’ll be a jittery mess.” Amber went right back to her work. In fact, she didn’t even bother to look up. Total indifference.
“Do you want me to book a hotel room in Asheville for the opening, or do you plan on driving back that night?”
“No, I, well, actually yes, I will be staying. I need your help too.” A devil possessed my tongue. “Book yourself a room, too.”
That got her attention. She looked up from her work, eyes wide and mouth open.
“You want me to go with you? To Biltmore?” She whispered. I couldn’t tell if she was happy about it or not. I he
ld my breath and nodded my head, anxiety racing through me. This was ridiculous. I needed her to help me. I mean, she was my assistant. So why the hell did it feel like I was asking her out on a date?
“Okay, well, sure, I’ll be glad to go with you. One night at The Inn on Biltmore Estate, two rooms. I’ll take care of it now. Do you mind if I ride with you? I don’t have a car.” She flushed, pink creeping up her neck. I’d figured she didn’t drive since she always came to work on foot.
“No problem, I expected to anyway. Make it two nights. It’s the weekend, and we might as well enjoy it.” I glanced down and realized I was still holding the tray with the coffee. I placed it on the table and sat on the couch. I’d brought an extra cup in case Amber changed her mind, hoping she would. She stayed glued to her chair, turning back to face her screen once more.
“Have you ever been to Biltmore?” The devil was in full control now. The ability to control my tongue lost. Amber turned to face me.
“No, I’ve only been to Asheville once, and it’s beautiful. Biltmore has a great reputation. I’ve always wanted to go. You remember my friend Christy, from the book store? She went there for her honeymoon and loved it. Said it was the most romantic place on earth.” The hint of a smile threatened to ruin her somber pose.
“I’ve never been there either. Normally, I stay at a hotel close to town. This time I wanted something different, a place to celebrate.” I realized my coffee was getting cold, so I gulped half of it down and poured more. I held up the empty cup for Amber who shook her head no, but then she abruptly got to her feet.
“I love the taste of your coffee. I will have another cup.” She sat on the other end of the sofa and reached for the carafe. I held my hand out to stop her and poured the cup myself.
“Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee is my favorite. It proves the saying correct; you get what you pay for.” An actual conversation not related to work. Would wonders never cease?