Blue-Collar Boys (Service Calls - Alpha Male Romance Erotica Stories) (6 page)

Leo set down his wrench, then mounted the springboard.  The board, now rigid and stern, snapped with sharp jolts, sending vibrations to the end of the plank and shivers down Vanessa’s bare spine. 

“Yes, that’s much better…” Smoke smoldered from her lips.

Vanessa swiveled over the back of the springboard and extended her hand to him.  It was the first time Leo had a chance to gaze into her jade eyes and touch her delicate fingers.  He noticed the lack of a wedding band.  He was backlit, the sunlight glinting off his tanned shoulders and blonde hair.  Vanessa could barely make out the features of his boyish face as he towed her to her feet.  Vanessa’s balance wavered.  She gripped the firm angle of his bicep for support and secured the folds of her robe.  With his juvenile green eyes, Leo stared at her, then down at her.  His lips quivered every time the Californian breeze rustled Vanessa’s lemon trees and flecked beads of water down his back. 
He was so young
, Vanessa thought, as she stroked his smooth cheek and noted his long, blonde eyelashes.  Then, he suddenly pulled her forward, locking lips with fervor.  His tongue pushed hard into her mouth. 
Young men always rushed in with their tongues
.  Soon, she felt his hot breath retreating down her neck.  Leo’s hands invaded her robe and immediately pawed her breasts and groped her bare crotch.  She pushed him away with a glare—silent and reprimanding, and yet, still permitting him to take in the full view of her erect nipples and waxed bikini line. 
It was hardly fair
, she thought with a smirk, springing off the edge of the board—a perfect, arching back dive into the deep end of her Venetian pool.  Leo watched as her mocha body shimmered beneath the water.  When Vanessa crested for air, her hair slid upon the surface like oil, and her feline eyes glanced back at Leo.  He was staring at her like a puppy dog, searching for the confidence to jump in after his master.  

“The springboard is perfect,” she called out, treading water.  “And it’s only four-thirty.  If you stay past five, I’m sure they’ll pay you over time.”

Leo gazed at Vanessa as if he could barely comprehend her words.  Then, without warning, he hollered out—a reckless cowboy catapulting himself off the springboard and into the depths of a wild frontier.  His bare chest and blue jeans jetted straight for Vanessa like a torpedo.  When he surfaced, he gasped and flicked his hair, then cornered Vanessa as she cried out with amusement.  He scooped her up, and tossed her naked body over his shoulder.  Vanessa splashed and writhed against his embrace.  But Leo was taller, stronger, and more determined to have his way with her.  Pinning her against the top rung of the pool ladder, he smothered her with the full force of his chest, feeling up her breasts and exhaling his youthful passion into her mouth.  He forced Vanessa’s arms behind her back, and ran his hands down her backside and between her legs.  The water lapped up against her nipples, and she shivered with delight as he fingered her.

Leo had never been seduced by an older woman.  He had never had sex in a pool.  And although he dominated her with his sheer strength, she was ultimately in-charge.

“I want to feel your cock.”

It was a command, not a request.

Leo suddenly paused and peered down into the water as Vanessa’s hands worked to loosen the studs of his button-fly jeans.  Leo wore no briefs.  Vanessa immediately felt the warmth of his smooth foreskin against her fingers.  Then, with one final tug, she peeled back the folds of his zipper and cupped his exposed erection in her palms.  This time, it was Leo who shivered.  Vanessa tugged down his jeans, exposing his groin to the cool rush of chlorine water, and disapeared underneath the pool’s surface, accepting his erect cock into her mouth.  She felt Leo’s body relax—the ladder bearing his weight—as his hands barely touched the top of her head, encouraging her to suck him deeper and deeper.  

Aquatic fellatio.  It was a first for Leo, the second for Vanessa.  In college, Vanessa had trained to be a life guard, and during the final test, she held her breath longer than anyone else trying out for the team, which caught the attention of the instructor—in more ways than one.

It took less than a minute to bring Leo to climax.  He was only twenty years-old, after all.  Vanessa held her breath and remained submerged as Leo swelled with every suck.  He tried to grab her hair to keep her there for the final surge, but she released him first, and suddenly somersaulted underwater.  Pushing off the wall, she escaped like a naked mermaid shimmering to the opposite end—away from Leo and away from her need to control him. 

The desire to dominate was over now, but it would return.  Over the course of the coming months, Vanessa would continue to seduce her unsuspecting pool boys, each one providing Vanessa with a new thrill, a new challenge, a new way to explore the merits of sex with blue-collar men until she succeed in overtaking them.  She was a siren, bewitching sailors to abandon their ship and luring them into the sensual pleasures of the deep blue sea.  She had grown addicted to the adrenaline rush of drawing these young men away from the safety of their charted routes in favor of the unknown and unpredictable adventures that she could offer them.  She loved drawing these sailors far away from the shores, then crashing their ships against the dangerous reefs of her sexual advances.  Vanessa dominated these men, and chose when to set them free.  It had become a familiar routine of sexual recreation—only the names and faces changed.  But soon, Vanessa would learn that there was one sailor who would not be as easily seduced as all the others.  There was one sailor who seemed invincible to the allure of Vanessa’s seductive song.  One sailor who was aware that the siren was also a vulnerable temptress whose spell could be broken if she was tempted herself. 

Enzo arrived to drain and clean Vanessa’s luxury whirlpool, and he breezed in through the gate without permission, and stumbled upon her sunbathing topless—her breasts, upright and erect.  She was stretched out on a white lawn chair—as if she was balancing atop a parachute—her white robe and white bikini bottoms blending into its surface.  When she heard footsteps, she barely turned her head to acknowledge the interruption.  Instead, she squinted into the sun through her oversized designer sunglasses and glared at the backlit pool boy.

“You’re blocking my light.”

Enzo offered nothing.  He did not shift his body nor did he lower his eyes to scan Vanessa’s bare breasts, nor did he flinch when she drew her palms behind her head, accentuating the peach curves of her perfect breasts. 

“If you’re here to clean my pool, you’re too late.  I’m sunbathing now, and I prefer to have a bit of privacy.”

 “I am only interested in the whirlpool,” he replied, his Italian accent stern and measured.  “The rest does not interest me.”  Enzo’s sisters and mother regularly sunbathed naked on the pebbled beaches of Italy.  It was nothing knew to him, and he made sure that Vanessa knew it.

She suddenly rose and wrapped her bathrobe over her body. “Most of the regular cleaners know how to maintain both.  You must be new and inexperienced.”

“I am not new,” he countered, staring straight through Vanessa’s sunglasses.  “I usually only visit the houses of our best clients.  But today was a slow day.”

Vanessa glared at him.  She wanted to slap that his Mediterranean five o’clock shadow right off his face.  But if she struck him, he seemed like the kind of man who might strike her back.  His eyes narrowed, black and fierce, and his husky accent made her shiver with the breeze.

“You are cold?” he noted with a smirk. “Then maybe it is time to go inside and get dressed.”

He swiped up Vanessa’s white bikini top and passed it off with force.

“The whirlpool.  Where is it?”

Vanessa nodded beyond the ivy vines of the bamboo gazebo. “If you really know what you’re doing, it shouldn’t take very long.  I expect you to be gone by the time I return from lunch.”

Vanessa knotted her robe with firm authority.  She was used to giving orders to her male employees who thought they knew more than she did because they had an MBA.  She could deal with those young, cocky assholes; they were white-collar sycophants who needed their six-figure salaries more than they needed to defy their female boss.  But Enzo didn’t need anything she had to offer.  His abrupt manners and callous glare told Vanessa that he had come from nothing and could return to nothing.  And he certainly didn’t care about pleasing anyone, especially not Vanessa.

“I’m hungry, make me a sandwich,” he snapped at her as she rolled open the sliding glass door and stepped into her house.

Vanessa glared back at him.  Their eyes locked.  She immediately thought of all the ways she could put him in his place, including calling his manager and requesting that he be fired on the spot.  But it was the way that Enzo lifted up his maintenance kit from the patio, as if he was the one who was going to leave, unless she obeyed.  Vanessa shifted in the doorway, questioning why she was vacillating between acquiescing to the demands of her new whirlpool man and maintaining her icy facade.  Maybe it was the way that Enzo was staring her down with his fearless black eyes.  Or maybe it was the way he was looking through her, like she was hardly of importance at all.

 “White or wheat?” Vanessa heard herself ask.

Enzo didn’t respond.  He was surveying Vanessa’s whirlpool, taking in its dimensions and design.

“French,” he finally said without looking up.  His eyes remained fixed on the Jacuzzi, tracing the path of its drain hose and searching out the power switch.

Vanessa nodded and started inside.

“And don’t get dressed—” he said with command.

Vanessa paused in the doorway when she heard Enzo’s order, but she did not glance back.  She wanted to glance back.  She wanted to know if Enzo was watching her.  She imagined his black eyes tracing the outline of her body through her robe, the same way he traced the drain lines of her whirlpool.  But she refused to look back; she refused to grant Enzo the satisfaction.  Instead, she stepped inside the safety of her house, sliding through the door like a cat, escaping through the narrowing crack at the last moment.

As she sliced up the hard French baguette, Vanessa felt a burst of adrenaline pulse through her heart—a pang of anxiety and discomfort.  For as long as she could remember,
she
was always the boss; she was the one who called the shots; and she was the one who told her blue-collar workers what to do and when to do it.  Now, she was frantically rummaging through her refrigerator, searching out the prosciutto and tomato, determined to make just the right sandwich that would please her Italian stranger.  She had mayo and mustard, but she risked enduring his stern disappointment unless she used olive oil.  She considered adding Swiss cheese, but refrained.  There was something primitive and rugged about the sandwich, and she wanted to keep it that way.  She placed the sandwich on a paper napkin, then balanced two chilled bottles of imported beer inside a wicker basket tray.  She wondered if Enzo liked salt and pepper.  At the last moment, she added the shakers before sliding back the glass door and stepping out onto the patio with a sense of insecurity.  Vanessa Demos was the CEO of a Fortune 500 Company, and yet, she didn’t understand why she was fretting over making lunch for her whirlpool man, or why it was giving her so much pleasure to obey his orders.

Vanessa traced the coral stone path to the bamboo gazebo, nestled in an enclave of her Elysian backyard.  Winding around the roses ducking through shaded trees, she balanced the wicker tray, carefully calculating the proper angle to keep the beer bottles upright and symmetrical.  But it was short-lived.  The bottles toppled to one side when she halted in front of her Jacuzzi, a contemporary blend of stainless steel and transparent glass, which was already drained, cleaned, and re-filled with fresh churning water—waiting for her.

“I made sandwiches and brought beers,” Vanessa forced a smile, but she was only met with silence, then a directive.

“I want you to remove your clothes, and get inside…”

Vanessa heard the order come from behind.  She hesitated.

 “I wasn’t sure if you wanted cheese or not—”

“Set it down and get undressed.” 

His voice was firm and unwavering.  Vanessa wondered if he was sitting on the lover’s bench, built into the side of the gazebo, or if he was directly behind her. Vanessa set the tray down on the stone steps, and untied the sash on her robe.  She still wore her white bikini top and bottom.

“Everything,” he said.

Vanessa trembled with the fear of the unknown.  By the sound of his voice, he had moved closer now.  She slowly unhooked the clasp of her bikini top, letting it fall from her body.  She paused, but there was only silence.  He was waiting for her to fully obey. Vanessa placed her fingernails on the corners of her bikini bottoms, and slowly peeled them down over her hips, then thighs, then stepped out of them.  She was exposed and vulnerable, and the uncertainty made her tingle with anticipation.

“The water is warm.  Get in,” Enzo said in a low, even tone.

Vanessa watched the water bubbling and frothing—a cauldron of steaming excitement.  She remembered the day she had picked out that whirlpool.  The showroom was lined with boring above-ground models with fake oak trim and beige interior shells.  They were all the same—all decidedly suburban.  Her whirlpool, on the other hand, was a custom piece of glass art with a sleek curved profile.  Vanessa stepped closer to the hot tub and ran her fingers across its foaming bubbles.  She felt him watching her from behind, tracking her every move with his eyes.

Vanessa slipped both legs over the curved edge of the hot tub before submerging her entire body into its waters, baptizing her naked body into the sanctuary he had created for her.  The heat scorched her skin, tiny air bubbles clung to her nipples and waxed pussy.  With Vanessa’s other blue-collar conquests, she always made the first move.  It was always an easy game of cat and mouse, the cat baiting the mouse, trapping her prey under her rules—and her rules alone.  But not with Enzo.  With Enzo, she felt afraid to confront his callous eyes, which threatened to reject her if she failed to obey.  It was this threat of rejection that was dangerous and exciting.  It was this threat of rejection that made Vanessa want to submit to him more than she wanted to dominate him.