A New Way of Seeing Things Pt. 02 Ch. 09

Standard disclaimer—this story takes place in a world where STDs don't exist and only babies planned for and wanted do—in other words, a fantasy world. Any resemblance to real-life people is purely coincidental.

*

"This is she." The call had come in as soon as Gwen had returned to her desk, fresh from an orgasm at the hands and lips of Natalie, followed by a nude walk across the lawn. The voice on the other end was a young woman, quiet and hesitant, the tone and pitch reminding Gwen of when her daughters were younger and their friends would call.

"Hi Mrs. Nelson, my name is Kristen LaPointe. You probably don't remember me, but we met at Memories by McCall? The photo studio??"

"Kristen! Of course! How are you?"

"Well, to tell the truth, pretty stressed out at the moment...this sounds crazy and I can't believe I'm asking, but I really need to get on a horse for a while and clear my head. You had offered to let me ride, and I'd very much like to take you up on your offer, but if you were just being polite and would rather I not I completely understand," she said in a breathless rush. "Please don't be afraid to tell me to just go away."

"Of course Kristen, you're more than welcome! I know how much thinking I can get done on a ride. When would you like to come out?"

"Oh, thank you so much, if you mean it," the young woman said in gasp of relief. "Would tomorrow afternoon be too soon? I want to be out---I, uh, don't have to work tomorrow. Would tomorrow afternoon be alright?"

"Tomorrow afternoon is fine, my husband and I will just be doing chores around here all day. What time would you like to come?"

"Would 2 be alright?"

"2 is fine."

***

Gwen pushed the envelope that afternoon, not bothering to dress until she heard the first truck pulling up the gravel driveway. Early, she noted as scrambled into her clothes while the rush of adrenaline from nearly being caught coursed through her. There was the sound of boots on the stairs as the last button was fastened, and Jordan's head popped above floor level, followed by his sweat soaked upper torso.

"Jordan, my goodness, you look like you've been swimming!"

I can't believe how hot it was today!" he replied with a grin, offering her the sheaf of papers in his hand. "I thought it was supposed to start getting cooler this time of year, not hotter! We were worse until the AC in the truck cooled us off some. Sorry, but I smell pretty bad."

Gwen waved her hand dismissively as she thumbed through the paperwork. "You smell like you've been working hard. Women find hard work attractive."

"So I shouldn't take a shower before my next date?"

Gwen looked up to see him smiling at his own joke and smiled back. "We also like men to smell nice when they're done working hard. Please tell the others as they come back that there is beer in the shop fridge—soda for Mike—and that you may take it up to the pool with you and go for a swim. I'm sure you all deserve a cooling off. Also, don't forget to remind the others that there are swim shorts in the pool shed if anybody forgot theirs—not that you ever use them." She looked up again with a raised eyebrow.

The young apprentice didn't seem fazed in the slightest by his boss's strong hint as to what went on when she was absent. "We don't have to worry about offending or scaring anybody when it's just us guys," he said with a grin.

He was certainly the most self-assured of the apprentices, Gwen thought to herself. The most coarse, too. I wonder if that carries over into the bedroom, or he's just all talk? Has he ever even been with a woman? She knew he thought of her as a stuck-up prude and wondered what he would have done had she not dressed in time. The Lady quickly put a stop to the idea of Gwen considering her employees in a less than professional manner. "Yes, well, women do offend and scare easily," she replied with a smile, remembering how she had been aroused, not frightened by his nudity that day she had spied on he and Andrew in the pool. The cool water had shrunk them certainly, Andrew down to an almost cherub-like size, but she doubted that either young man could grow when aroused to match either dildo in her nightstand. And those no longer offended or frightened her..."Thank you for sparing us. You'll remind the others, please?"

"Yes ma'am. Why don't you join us?"

"No, you all should have some boys-only time at the end of a work week."

"It's Nelson Plumbing only time," he countered. "And you're a big part of Nelson Plumbing. C'mon, I know you're hot."

Gwen smiled, imagining the young man's persuasive tone had been used more than once to talk some poor, innocent girl out of her clothes. She held the damp pile of paper out at him. "We'll see how long this paperwork takes to sort out. Meanwhile, nobody gets a beer until all the unloading is done, right?"

Jordan grinned. "Right. We'll get it done."

"And no beer at all for Mike!" She yelled as he retreated down the staircase. "He's still underage for another three months!"

"No ma'am, no beer for the little kid!" came the echoed response.

Despite her misgivings, the paperwork was in pretty good shape that afternoon—complete, if a little damp from the humidity and the sweat that had dripped on it. Gwen was the first out of the shop that afternoon, heading for the house even as the last copper salvage and fixtures were being sorted for the scrapyard. She was at the kitchen sink, washing lettuce for a salad, when Tim breezed in, on his way to change into swim trunks.

"Going for a swim?" He called out as he went down the hall. "Jordan was telling everybody you might."

"For goodness sake, why is that news he thinks everybody has to know?" The Slut thought she knew the answer.

"Because you never have before," Tim called out again, already on his way back up. "C'mon, get changed."

"I think it's better left as a boys-only thing," she demurred as he turned the corner back into the kitchen. It was funny how quickly seeing her husband in a bathing suit had become an uncommon event.

"It's not like we're having a bachelor party up there," he grumbled as he kissed her neck on the way by to the refrigerator for more beer. "C'mon. The lettuce can wait. Get changed and meet me up there. I promise we'll all be perfect gentlemen, and if Jordan isn't, well, I'll hold him under until he is." Tim breezed out the door, towels in one hand and six-pack in the other.

Gwen thought about it a moment before heading for the bedroom. Her bikinis were out of the question, of course, but her trusty black one piece might be suitable for being the only woman in a crowd of men. Men who work for you and actively discuss what you look like naked, the Lady reminded her. They'll respect you less if you even give them a little of what they're hoping for. She ignored the warning and dressed quickly but carefully, selecting a towel and beach coverup for herself before heading up the hill.

Tim and the three apprentices were all in the water when she stepped through the chain link gate. A glance into the clear rippling water confirmed that everyone was wearing shorts, to her relief and mild disappointment. Even Walt was in attendance, his bulk filling a chair off to the right, the Nelson Plumbing shirt removed to reveal a stained white t-shirt underneath.

"No Cliff?" she asked as she made her way to the table where her towel was always placed.

Tim took a sip of beer. "Nope. Ty's got a football game tonight, and he wanted to get home in time to pick up Cheryl."

Gwen sensed all eyes were upon her, and she resisted the urge to check her outfit one more time. She had the distinct impression they were all waiting for the unveiling, for the revealing of what lay beneath her coverup. Already they had seen more leg than ever before, and the anticipation of what Mrs. Nelson looked like without baggy jeans and shirts and sweaters was telling.

It was Walt's eyes she felt the most. The boys—young men, the Slut reminded her, young, virile men who undressed every woman they saw—she expected to look, even if there was not much to see. But Walt had been looking for years, for the most part doing a decent job of hiding his interest. He had always been polite to her, but also had worked for Tim and Gwen long enough for her to occasionally overhear his thoughts on women. Naked and bringing him beer before performing lewd acts was the role of the fairer sex, although Gwen had a hard time imagining Norma doing any of that for him. More than once she had gotten the sense that Walt had envisioned the woman at the top of the office stairs performing the role for him instead. The thought had horrified her before, and amused her now. She could not imagine pushing aside that belly to find what the fat plumber would want attended to. All these years, he had been the living example of the type of man her mother had been warning her about. And now she was going to tease him with a hint of what he could never have.

Gwen surveyed the pool deck, delaying the disrobing. Everyone either had a beer in hand or close by on the edge of the pool; Mike held a can of soda, an unclaimed beer nearby raising the suspicion it belonged to the underaged apprentice. Realizing there was no way to lessen the shock value of her exposure, she untied the coverup, slipped it off her shoulders and hurried to the pool stairs.

Every man did his best not to stare. Even though the suit was modest by any reasonable standard, it still revealed the lines and shape of their employer's body like they had never seen before. Firm breasts molded the stretchy fabric over them, and the skirt about her waist did nothing to hide the toned legs emerging from beneath it. The young men made their way to the other side of the pool, as if to give her space, as she entered and made her way to stand by Tim.

"Would you like a beer, ma'am?" Jordan offered as she turned to face them.

"Oh, no thank you, I don't drink beer. Only a little wine, sometimes."

"I can go get you some," Andrew quickly offered. Jordan gave him a smug grin for his eagerness. She remembered how he had expressed a special interest in the mysteries of Mrs. Nelson that day by the pool, and wondered if his expectations of her had been heightened or dampened by her unveiling.

"No, thank you Andrew, that's very nice of you, though. So, what are you up to this weekend?"

"Oh, uh, not much," he mumbled, suddenly aware he was the center of attention. "My brother's band is playing at Tooley's Millhouse tomorrow night, so I'm going to go."

"Well, that sounds like fun. How about you two?"

Mike and Jordan suddenly found reasons to look elsewhere, afraid they might be caught staring at the breasts just above the surface, looking for signs the cool water might be doing its work on her nipples. Both confessed to no plans, just 'hanging out'.

"And you, Walt? What are you and Norma doing?"

The fat plumber snapped out of the daydream where the woman he was staring at was without bathing suit. "Oh, uh," he spluttered. "Just takin' care of stuff around the house, gettin' the RV ready, you know..."

The sun was just above the trees and the group had talked through several more beers before Jordan and Mike announced their need to get back to town and made their way on to the pool deck. The young men grabbed their towels and clothes but did not bother to change, thanking the Nelsons for their hospitality before making their way down to their trucks. Andrew hurried after them, and Walt did not move until Gwen had gotten back onto the pool deck and covered herself with the wrap.

"Shit," Jordan said in a low voice once he decided they were out of earshot. "My grandma wears less'n that at the beach. Got a better look at her tits than I ever have before, though. Wonder if Tim's ever seen more of 'em," he finished with a laugh.

"I don't even want to think about your grandma showin' off her tits," Mike groaned after nervously checking over his shoulder to ensure the three apprentices were indeed alone. "But yeah, Mrs. Nelson's titties look pretty nice. Wish that skirt hadn't been in the way, though. Woulda loved to have gotten a better look at that ass."

Jordan looked over at Andrew and laughed. "Hey Mrs. Nelson, let me get you some wine," he mimicked in a high voice. "Kiss ass!"

"She didn't have anything to drink," the besieged apprentice said weakly.

"No, I really think you want to kiss her ass. And her tits, and her pussy...dude, I think you got the hots for her."

"Shut the fuck up! She's my boss!"

"She's the boss with the pussy you want to stick your little dick in. Wait your turn, Tim's probably still trying. You beat him to it, he's gonna kick your ass."

"If he hears you talking about her like that, he's gonna kick your ass first," Andrew shot back. "Cliff probably will too, if he hears you."

The trio reached their vehicles and made tentative plans to maybe meet somewhere over the weekend while Jordan and Mike changed back into their work pants. Andrew stayed in his shorts, knowing they were already partially dry and the evening breeze through the cab would finish the job. Walt came wheezing up behind them, belched his goodbye, and was off.

Andrew followed the other two apprentices down the driveway, turning right at the end as Mike and Jordan turned left. He was almost three-quarters of a mile down the road when the engine coughed and spluttered, then died. The truck rolled to a stop and the young man already knew what the problem was even before his eyes got to the gauge. He had pushed his luck too far between fill-ups. Out of gas.

"ShitshitshitSHIT!" Andrew slammed the steering wheel in frustration. Now what? He could try and call Jordan or Mike, see if they would come back and get him. He knew they probably would, but the crap he would take from them for delaying the start to their evening was probably not worth it. Getting his brother or someone else from town would take forever. He could call Tim, see if he would come out with a can of gas.

Don't be a lazy ass, he chided himself. Tim's probably sitting down to dinner about now. Just walk back and grab one of the gas cans for the jobsite generators. Return it full on Monday and Tim won't care. With a sigh, he climbed from the cab and began to walk.

Gwen began to gather empties and towels as soon as Walt's bulk had disappeared from sight down the hill. "Leave that stuff and let's sit for a while," Tim said as he popped the top on another can. "It's the weekend. Let's slow down for a bit." She smiled and sat down next to him, resisting the urge to continue her tidying. Her husband's eyes slowly begin to close, and both enjoyed the silence as the sun sank behind the trees.

"Good day?" He asked, not bothering to open his eyes.

Tell him now about her afternoon with Natalie, or later? Later, the Slut suggested. It might be a good way to add some spice to a hoped-for dessert after dinner. "A busy day. I got a call from someone I met recently. She's coming over to ride tomorrow."

Her husband's eyes opened and found hers. "Somebody besides Natalie? Speaking of that, you guys rode today, right? How did that go?"

"It was fine," she said dismissively. "The person I met—Kristen—is coming at 2 tomorrow."

Tim decided his wife was reluctant to discuss her afternoon with her sister-in-law, and he let it drop. "You're letting someone you just met near your horses? That's a first. Where'd you meet her?"

"I met her at, uhh, Natalie's last photo shoot. She was in to ask about getting some photos taken, photos like yours. They asked me to tell her about my experience. She mentioned she loves to ride, so I told her she could come out any time she wanted."

Tim sat up, suddenly very interested. "Gwen! You actually gave a stranger more than a polite hello? I'm impressed!"

"Stop that! I talk to strangers."

Talk, yes. Carry on a conversation, or make arrangements to continue it, that's a new one." He stopped and gently whacked his forehead. "Sorry, what the hell was I thinking? Where's my manners? Let me go get you something to drink."

"I can get it," Gwen said patiently, and began to rise.

Tim cut her off. "No. Stay here and relax. I'll be right back." He hurried out of the gate and down the hill.

Andrew broke into the clearing of the Nelson's yard as dusk was settling. He had made up his mind to head up to the house and announce his presence and predicament if there appeared to be any signs of life, and there did seem to be a light coming from the windows over the deck. More light spilled out from the kitchen door as it opened, and the young man began to call out to whoever was opening it. Both his call and his walk froze. A naked rear end, easily visible even in the failing light, pushed against the screen door and swung it open with a bump. The body turned and stepped through the now open doorway, the swinging dick making it obvious it was a man. The motion light that snapped on above him confirmed it was Tim, completely bare-assed, carrying a bottle of wine in one hand and a glass in the other.

Andrew froze in place, practically invisible against the backdrop of the dark treeline behind him. Now what? Alert his naked boss to his presence? Sneak away and call someone from town to come get him? Try and get the gas can and make his escape without anybody noticing?

Other parts of his brain were at work as well. I never knew Tim drinks wine...he doesn't, but Mrs. Nelson does...she must still be up at the pool. His brain devoted its full attention to the next step in the rapidly developing line of logic. If she's still up there, maybe she's naked, too...a new course of action was quickly added to the others, heartily endorsed by the little head between his legs. He could always try and take a look, just to see if she was...he began to formulate a plan as Tim began the climb back up the steps set in the hill.

The other side of the shop, past the paddock, up the hill, keep to the treeline...he should be able to climb high enough to look down on the pool deck. This is stupid, he tried to tell himself. Get caught and lose your job and a few teeth. Besides, it's probably too dark to see anything, anyways. The lure was too great, and he began to move in his best movie-ninja imitation as soon as his employer's bare backside disappeared beyond the pool gate.

"Forget something?" Gwen asked with mild amusement has her husband made his way back to her across the warm concrete.

"Didn't forget anything," Tim countered as he began to pour her glass. "Didn't figure I needed them anymore. You don't need yours any more, either, you know."

"And what if one of them forgot something and they come back? How are you going to get from here to the house to get your shorts?"

"Hell, it ain't like I haven't been up here with 'em before when you weren't home. They know what my dick looks like. As long as none of 'em try to touch it, it's all good." He handed her the glass. "You're the one they wanted to look at tonight, anyways."

"Me? Do you think my suit is too revealing? Did I show them too much?"

Tim laughed. "For the nineteenth century, your suit is a little racy. For today, it's fine. You showed them less than what they'd see from most women at the beach. But it's still more of you than they've ever seen before. I pretty sure you're the reason Walt made the climb up here in this heat—to check you out. He's gettin' up there in years, but he's still a horny old bastard." He made sure she had taken a couple of sips of wine before he took the glass back, set it down and embraced her. "But I think that suit doesn't do you justice, and I want you to get rid of it. Never want to see it again," he told her as their lips met.

Andrew's stealth continued in a crouching shuffle after he passed the corral and began to climb the slope up to the back of the field. He was careful to stay as near as he dared to the trees without running the risk of breaking branches underfoot, his years of hunting experience coming to the fore as he stalked different prey. The young voyeur slowed further as he approached the level of the pool deck, checking after each step whether he could see or be seen yet.