Spencer's Canyon

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Student takes a summer job for a semester, and gets much more.
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I know the pool boy story has been done once or twice, but I've never done one. Hopefully, it's different enough to be worth your time. Have fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I decided to take some time off from school, feeling overwhelmed, and needing to recharge, I never thought things would work out the way they did.

Sometimes, the best parts of life happen by accident.

***

As I said, I had been going to school for over two years straight, trying to accelerate my graduation and start earning money as soon as possible. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and of course, I was a lousy judge of my own stamina, feeling certain I could handle it, even if others couldn't.

Finally, I had to admit that I was in over my head. I had made some gains, but I couldn't keep up the pace. I needed a break.

That break didn't need to be a vacation, just a change. I was looking for a job, so I could at least have some financial gain while I was away. The ad caught my eye.

"Local resort hotel and spa looking for staff to fill multiple roles. Four positions available."

Not a lot of information there, but plenty of mystery, and I always loved a good mystery. What local resort hotel? Which roles? I placed a call, and after a brief phone interview, was asked to attend the facility in a few days, for a personal meeting. The interviewer gave me directions, seemingly to the middle of nowhere.

In the meantime, I tried to relax. I would have almost four months to recharge my batteries, before getting back to the serious work of my marketing degree.

As I drove out to my interview, I turned off the highway, exactly as directed. There was the sign I'd been told to look for; a small, weather-beaten wooden arrow, pointing me down the narrow gravel road, that led into the sparsely wooded area.

"Spencer's Canyon" it said, a name that meant nothing to me, as I had grown up well over a thousand miles east. I followed the road up, and over a ridge, before it curled around a tight hairpin and began a descent into the entrance of the canyon, completely invisible from the main highway. As I drove further into the wilderness, the forest began to close in, and I realized that I was driving at last beside a rocky, turbulent stream. That stream, like an oasis in the sandstone that dominated the area, fed the thickening foliage, eventually blocking the canyon walls from view.

After a fifteen minute journey, I found myself at a fork in the road. To the left, the gravel continued. To the right, a more civilized strip of pavement began, and beside it a more civilized, ornate sign read "Spencer's Canyon Resort and Spa".

I had arrived.

Among my first thoughts, I noted just how much of a pain in the butt this commute was going to be, if I got the job. Almost an hour out of town, it was far enough that the distance had to be considered in the decision. I realized that I was getting a little ahead of myself, almost looking for a reason to tank the interview.

"Don't do that," I chastised myself. "Get the job first, then give it a chance, before you quit. You might even like it here."

As if on cue, I rounded a curve in the driveway, and was greeted by the main building of the resort. It was clearly designed to impress, and I wasn't immune.

Local stone and soaring, rough-hewn timbers framed glass, reflecting the thick forest around. It looked at a glance very rustic, but hinted at luxury inside. I was definitely curious.

The parking lot was quite full, with about fifty cars neatly lined up in rows, but I found a slot and parked. Right next to my spot were extended stalls, longer than a normal car. I initially thought they were for trucks, but painted on the asphalt when I walked past, it said 'limo parking'.

"Limo parking? What kind of place is this, anyway?" I asked myself softly.

As I walked in the front door, I noticed that while the mixture of luxury and rustic charm remained, the scale of the building was reduced to a more comfortable, human level. It actually felt... Cozy.

Across the lobby, an attractive blonde made eye contact from behind the reception desk.

"How may I help you?" she smiled, as I stopped in front of her.

"I have an interview, at 10, with Mrs. Spencer?" I ventured.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Gibson," she replied, tapping a few keys.

"Yes, Scott," I nodded, taking in her form. She had very pretty eyes, and a tight, fit-looking body. Nice breasts, too. Her white blouse fit her curves snugly, and a logo adorned the upper curve of her left breast, along with her name tag.

"Take a seat, please," she smiled, nodding toward the comfortable-looking leather couches in the lobby. "I'll call you when she's ready for you."

"Thank you, Alicia," I smiled. Those couches really were comfy, as I found out when I took a place on one of them. A book on the end table caught my attention. It was a history of the area, going back hundreds of years. I was just getting engrossed in it, when Alicia touched my shoulder, leaning in from behind. I turned, and found a nice peek at her cleavage waiting for me.

"Mrs. Spencer is ready to see you," she smiled, her blue eyes sparkling. I put the book down, and followed her, as she led me down a hallway, to a large wooden door. She knocked.

"Come in," I heard from inside, and my guide opened the door.

"Thank you, Alicia," the woman inside said happily, holding her hand out to me, as Alicia made her exit. "I'm Elena Spencer, the manager here. Thank you for coming all the way out here, Mr. Gibson."

I took her hand. It was soft, and warm, and gave me a chance to check her out.

Maybe it was a natural offshoot of being the manager of a spa, but I found her extremely attractive. I'd guess she was in her mid thirties, with long, dark brown hair that reached well down her back. She wore a knee-length black skirt, and the same white blouse Alicia was wearing, with the 'Spencer's Canyon' logo over the breast, although the breast it was over was much larger than Alicia's. She was tall, voluptuous, and curvy, and smiling at me as she ushered me to sit on her couch. I sat on one end, and she arranged herself on the other.

"So, Scott..." she began, reading my application. "What makes you want to work at Spencer's Canyon?"

"Honestly, Ma'am, I don't really know," I replied, watching her cross her long legs. "Curiosity, I suppose. I'd never heard of this place before, and the ad in the paper didn't specify."

"Yes. That's intentional. We have something of a legendary reputation, locally," she smiled. "Last time we advertised, we got two-hundred applications for five jobs. All the locals believe the rumours."

"Rumours?" I asked.

"Pure foolishness," she giggled, dismissing the question. "Since you are not familiar with our resort, perhaps I should fill you in..."

I listened as she laid out the history, parts of which I had read before Alicia brought me in. All the way back to the beginning, in the mid-seventeen-hundreds, when a prospector named Clayton Spencer first explored the canyon that now bore his name. He followed the stream upward until he found himself at its source, a small spring that fed into a tiny, secluded lake. He laid claim to the whole canyon, a claim that had been grandfathered in by past governments.

"That's how it came to be in my family," Mrs. Spencer explained.

"So, it's more than a coincidence that your name is Spencer," I smiled. "You're more than just the manager here, aren't you?"

"Yes," she smiled back, tapping her fingertip to her plump lips in a 'shhhh' gesture. "I try to keep a low profile. It's better for the staff if they don't know I'm the sole owner, now, since my husband passed."

"Of course. I'll keep it to myself," I nodded.

"Anyway, over the years, people started to enjoy both the spring and the lake," she continued. "A few cabins became a hotel, then a resort, and now a resort and spa. We have forty rooms on the two upper levels for overnight guests, twenty day-rooms on the lower level around the pool, and ten bungalows sprinkled throughout the forest nearby. The pool, hot tubs and cool spas are all fed from the spring. The water has certain... therapeutic... properties, that the guests enjoy greatly."

She paused, and gave me a long, lingering look, her eyes flitting from my feet, across my body, and up to my face again. I wasn't a bodybuilder by any means, but highschool football had packed on some muscle at just the right time. At six foot three, and two hundred pounds, I was relatively confident in my own skin.

"I have a good feeling about you, Scott," she smiled. "I'm going to put you on the short list, for a second interview, in a couple of days."

"Thank you. May I ask, what is the actual job?" I asked.

"Customer service is very important to us, here, Scott. We ask all our staff to treat guests like family. To that end," she smiled, eyeing me intensely, "you will be doing several tasks. I like to have interchangeable staff members, so you'll be trained in various positions, from reception, to pool duty, to food services. It keeps work from getting stale. We can talk about it more when we meet again, but right now, I have another applicant to meet with."

With that, she stood elegantly, smoothing her skirt as she did, and extended her hand again.

"It's been very nice to meet you, Scott," she nodded, as I took her hand. She shook mine firmly, causing a perceptible jiggle in her chest. "Please see Alicia on your way out, and set up a time to come back."

I found myself in the hallway, then the lobby, where Alicia greeted me with a smile.

"So? It went well, huh," she giggled. "I'm supposed to book a time for Wednesday afternoon, for Mrs. Spencer to show you around. I think we might be working together."

I suppose I could make the commute for a while. At least long enough to take a shot at getting the lovely blonde into a much more personal, hopefully horizontal situation.

One can only dream.

***

Now that I knew the way, the trip out to the resort didn't seem so long, and on Wednesday afternoon, I drove out again for my second interview. A few less cars populated the parking area, but I took the same spot, beside the limo parking.

Walking through the front door, I was surprised to see Mrs. Spencer in the lobby, chatting with a few of the guests. She looked up from her conversation, and smiled, tilting her head to the side, a subtle 'wait over there' gesture. I stepped to the side, and leaned against the wall.

"Thank you for coming back, Scott. You're early," she smiled, when she approached me a couple of minutes later. "I like that. Follow me. I'd like to show you around while we talk."

So, walk we did, slowly, while she pointed out features of the building and property, and I listened, taking the opportunity to observe her. Today's skirt seemed a couple of inches shorter than the one she wore the first day, but was similarly coloured and equally snug over her hips and sexy rear-end.

There was plenty to see on this guided tour, and in this case, I'm not talking about Mrs. Spencer. Alicia was out on the pool deck today, acting as part-lifeguard, part-guest relations specialist, and clad in a hot little navy-blue maillot suit that clung to her body nicely. She was looking after about a dozen guests, all women, who were lounging around the pool. The pool itself was quite beautiful, with clear, sparkling water that looked so refreshing. A small waterfall at one end of the pool was a symbolic entrance for the fresh water, mimicking the spring that was its true source.

I noticed that everyone seemed quite happy to be here, which was logical. I also noticed that nearly all the women were on the attractive side, whatever their ages, and that they all seemed to be watching me walking with Mrs. Spencer. She exchanged pleasantries with a few guests as we went, while I hovered in the background, feeling eyes on me.

"Over here," she gestured, as we continued on the tour, "is the hot tub. Again, the spring is the source of our water. All we add here is temperature, and bubbles."

There were four more women in the tub, chatting and enjoying the water and company. The tub could easily accommodate five or six more, so the ladies were spread out, using the jets to massage their bodies, and sending bubbles cascading upward around themselves. I noticed a fountain of water shooting up through one woman's cleavage, and wondered just exactly where that jet was pointed. Mrs. Spencer smiled, as we moved on.

"We pride ourselves on being a full service spa," she said softly. "A guest visiting for the day is assigned one of our day-rooms," she pointed, as we passed the open glass doors. It was essentially a well appointed, very comfortable cubicle that opened toward the pool deck. "A guest can rest in their room, use the pool and tub, and wait for their appointment time."

"Appointments?" I asked.

"Manicure, pedicure..." she elaborated.

"Massage?" I asked.

"Of course. Wouldn't be a spa without that, would it?" she giggled. "As I said, full service. We pamper our guests. Mani, pedi, facial, massage, food service, bar service, and even a hair salon, so they look and feel fabulous when they leave."

Our walk continued, and we turned away from the main building, following a stone path into the cool shade of the forest.

"I want to show you our bungalows, for longer term patrons," she smiled as she led us along slowly. "We have hiking trails that run all the way up into the mountains, if a guest is feeling adventurous. I imagine a massage is a great way to recover from a ten-mile hike."

The silence of the forest was remarkable, obviously a big reason for the bungalows. Privacy.

"So, tell me more about yourself, Scott?" she asked. "Other than what's on your résumé, what makes you tick? You're in school?"

"Yes, but I'm taking a break," I replied. "I need a chance to recharge."

"Well, I think we can help you with that," she smiled. "We encourage our staff to use the facilities, so they understand the services fully. We even have a small dormitory for the service staff, to make it easier to meet our guests needs. I know it's a long drive out here, especially if you have to do it everyday."

"Really? That's neat," I laughed. "I may never want to leave."

"If you have a girlfriend, she can even use the facilities once a month," she smiled. "Do you have a girlfriend, Scott?"

"Not currently," I shook my head. I suppose, once word got out that I was working here, a few classmates might be interested in a treatment or two, and my prospects might look brighter.

We had arrived at one of the bungalows, a squat, rustic structure among the trees. Mrs. Spencer pulled a card out of her pocket, and swiped it in the electronic lock. She opened the door.

I was immediately struck by the difference between the outside and the inside. Inside, a layer of extreme luxury covered the walls and floor, completely opposed to the outer appearance.

"Wow," I whispered, feeling the silence engulf me.

"I thought this might be a good place to finish the interview," she said softly, taking a seat on yet another comfortable couch. "Sit, please?"

I sat, and waited, while she looked me over once more. Her legs were crossed again, and she was bouncing her foot, with her high-heeled shoe dangling off her toes. I glanced at the slice of smooth thigh that peeked out of the slit in her skirt.

"Scott, I have a hypothetical question for you," she smiled, resting her chin on her hand, braced on the back of the couch. "You have noticed, I'm sure, that our clientele is almost exclusively female, yes?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I nodded.

"Many of these women are quite wealthy. They are accustomed to getting their own way, and some of them expect, shall we say... a little something extra... when they visit us. So, my question to you is this; a guest makes it clear she wants you to provide that something extra. What do you do?"

Something extra? Wait... Are we talking about...?

"Is this a test?" I asked. "Most resorts have a policy against staff-guest fraternization."

"That's true, but we're not most resorts," she purred, leaning closer. Her free hand played with the silver necklace that hung around her slender throat, dragging it out of her cleavage. "Remember, I said we pride ourselves on being a full service facility, so..."

"Are you kidding?" I asked again.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" she asked, sliding closer still. Somehow, a button had come undone on her blouse, and a bit more delicious cleavage peeked out. "A woman guest says she wants to have sex with you... And you say?"

"Um, yes?" I stumbled, my head spinning.

"A bit more conviction, please?" she directed.

"Yes, Ma'am," I smiled.

"That's better," she nodded, popping another button. White, lacey cups supported her substantial breasts. "So, just to practice and clarify... I'm a guest, and I have a request for you. Scott, I'd like you to come back to my room, so we can have sex."

"Yes, Ma'am!" I nodded.

"I want you to fuck me, Scott. I want you to take your cock, and pound my lonely pussy, until I scream," she growled, now only inches away, with her breasts brushing my chest. She licked her lips.

"Certainly, Mrs. Spencer," I replied, looking into her eyes.

"Elena," she breathed. "Call me Elena. Now kiss me."

"Mmmmmm, with pleasure, Elena," I sighed, and pressed my lips to hers.

I assumed this was still part of the interview. If she was telling me the truth... that some of the clientele here was horny, and wanted relief, and that she wasn't just talking about herself... well, let's just say my motivation to get the job had risen, along with my dick.

At twenty-two, I had spent the last few years with girls around my own age. Elena was my first older woman, and if this kiss was any indication, I might want to think about shifting my focus. She was sucking on my tongue, as she crawled up to straddle my lap, dragging her skirt up to allow her legs to reach wide enough. I had my hands on her rump, and she started to pull her blouse out of her waistband.

"Please, allow me," I whispered, grasping her hands to stop her. She gave me a wry grin, and nodded, turning her attention to caressing my chest. I smiled back, and leaned up to nuzzle her neck.

"Oh, fuck, I think you're hired," she groaned. "I had a feeling you'd be good. Have you ever had a mature woman before?"

"No," I answered, as I trailed kisses across her collarbone.

"Hmmmm, then maybe we're both in for a treat," she moaned. "I hope you'll enjoy me."

"I'm sure I will," I breathed, nibbling her neck further. My hands had moved forward, and were unbuttoning the few remaining fasteners of her blouse. Now completely open, I dragged it off her shoulders, down her arms, and off, leaving her leaning back on her hands. Her bra was very feminine, and the lacey cups I noticed earlier were very full, holding her large, lovely orbs up and out. She shook her shoulders, jiggling those magnificent breasts at me.

"Are you a breast man, Scott?" she asked, a playful pout on her face. "Do you like my tits? Do you want me to wrap them tight around your cock, and let you fuck them? Do you want to shoot your cum all over them?"

"Such silly questions," I smiled, rubbing my face in the cleft of soft flesh between the aforementioned spectacular jugs. My fingers nudged the straps outward, easing them off over her shoulders, and letting the bra go slack. Her breathing pressed her breasts out, filling the cups and pushing them lower, then letting my eyes see the darkened, puckered texture of her areolas. A few more breaths, and her tall, erect nipples also came out into view.

"Oh, Elena, your breasts are beautiful," I said softly, cupping the resilient globes in my hands. "Absolutely beautiful."