Moving Out Ch. 04

He was lying in a lawn chair, fully clothed, of course. He had kept the button-down on but changed into khaki shorts and sandals, and he sat there watching me. I felt like I was on a stage with the spotlight shining on me. Eventually, he pointed to a bed of flowers and said, "There's a pair of gloves over there, plus kneeling pad. There are shears and a trowel too, if you need them."

I took a deep breath and walked over to the bed. It was in full bloom, just like the gardens out by the driveway, and I had to admit the smell was beautiful. I knelt down, moving the pad to a comfortable patch, and slipped on the gloves.

If you looked from far away, you wouldn't have said his garden needed weeding, but down here I could see there were numerous little sprouts of grass and other plants amid the flowers. There was a basket nearby for me to throw things into. I think, when it comes down to it, I enjoy weeding. I've done it before, at my place and with my mother and grandmother. There's a simple sort of pleasure in seeing your progress. But there was no way that weeding was all this man wanted.

It was as if his eyes were boring holes into my ass. I could feel his gaze drift over my butt cheeks, up my back, my shoulders, brushing the backs of my arms, my neck. He was obviously rich, but there were cheaper ways of getting your garden weeded. I pictured him appearing behind me, stroking my skin. Using me for his pleasure. My cock hardened and made a tent out of the skimpy suit. I turned a little to make sure he couldn't see.

He directed me to several other patches. It was certainly an amazing garden. It grew and blossomed as if it were a jungle. I pictured some sort of tropical paradise in my head. Whenever I ventured a glance over my shoulder, he was still there, watching me. Something inside me felt bold, wanted to give him a special show, but I couldn't do it. Still, I acknowledge that as creeped out as I was, I was very attracted to him. I could only imagine what was hiding under that button-down shirt.

I wondered what he did to get so rich. I mean, I had heard there were ways of making great money in the world without being born rich or being a movie star. Of course, I could use a nice get-rich plan. Maybe he was an inventor of something really famous, and this was what it was like to live off the patent. Maybe he was some sort of famous writer. I wouldn't have known. I don't read much, and I certainly wouldn't remember an author's face. What if he was a pornographer, the guy behind the camera? I wondered if he was auditioning me to be a new model.

When I finished with the gardens, the sun was low in the sky. You could look out over his yard and see the sun over the distant mountains, the clouds purple and gold and red smeared like an impressionist painting. I tossed the gloves down next to the basket and started brushing the dirt off of my arms.

He got up from his chair. "Thanks, you did a really good job." I watched him warily, thinking he might try to make a move on me, but he simply led me over to the shed next to the pool and fished out a skimmer. "I don't think this will take too long, and then I won't have anything left for you to do today."

He went back over to his lawn chair and I turned to the pool. I haven't told you about that yet. The shed was a few yards away, off the true swimming area. Here the pool was wide and round, like a pond with a sidewalk, and cherry trees hung overhead. I started skimming out the fallen leaves, relatively few. The pool was long. The circular swimming area was connected to a wading area, and the whole thing curved like a half moon. At the head, near the stairs to enter, was a crystal clear stream that emptied into the pool. The rush of the water was soothing to my ears. I wanted more than anything to dive in and swim in the crystal clear water. Although late, it was still hot, even though I was practically naked.

I started picturing him in here, in a swim suit, his gray hair slicked and wet, his arms shining with drops of water. I imagined he had a nice ass that filled out his swimsuit. He would be a stud wet. I chuckled to myself. It was insane. Here was this guy, paying me ridiculous amounts of money to do menial tasks while mostly naked, and I was fantasizing about him. I should be running away terrified. If I had, I guess there wouldn't be much of a story, though. I wondered what Tom would think of all this.

I desperately hoped he would have a good time at college. Good enough, even, to forget what I did to him. I had wanted him so badly, and it was an incredible joy to be with him, but I felt like an ass for doing it. I hoped he'd forgive me when we got older. And then, when he left, after I tried so hard to restrain myself, I still went to bed with him. Some older brother I was. Really responsible.

Then there was Nate. He wanted me, he really did, and I didn't want to blow that. Casual sex is nice, but a real relationship is hard to come by. I shouldn't have even come here in the first place, but I really did need the money. I don't know how else I would have made it through the next month. I just wouldn't get involved with this man. I mean, he hadn't even touched me. I was just something to look at and amuse him. It's only fair that he should get some amusement in his old age. He was hot, but with the way most gays I'd seen online are, his age would have been an immediate deal-breaker.

I finished having convinced myself that I had just given an old man a few moments of pleasure, and that he was just giving himself more pleasure by paying me so well with a wealth he'd spent a lifetime earning. After I changed back into my clothes, he walked me to my car, talking about the party he was throwing. Apparently his sister had just had a grandchild get married, and since he didn't have any grandchildren of his own, much less children, he wanted to celebrate. As I got into my car, he handed me an envelope.

"I really appreciate your help here today. I'd like to call on you again in the future. I'll be able to pay you well, I can assure you. Have a safe drive home." He grinned, and I thought for a minute he was going to lean in and kiss me.

"Thank you, sir. I'm very glad I could help." I smiled and shut my door, then drove off. When I got to the end of his driveway, after passing the gate, I pulled over and looked in the envelope. It was stuffed with bills, stuffed, and it was a very large envelope too. I started counting, stopped at 25, and estimated there must be four times that. Around one hundred Ben Franklins. Jesus. I got back on the road and continued home, wondering how you deposit this much money in a bank.