Kayla and the Pool Boy

"Now that's what I call fucking sexy," Logan laughed.

Without warning he moved toward Kayla and gave her an extended kiss on the mouth. I inhaled a breath and scented Kayla's body odor again, the smell appearing sharper. My cock twitched up and down as I watched her soft pink lips sensually envelop his. It was as if Tammy and I weren't even there.

"Maybe I'll get that kind of reaction after toning up with Kayla," Tammy giggled as she poked me in the rib.

"Ha," I responded feebly, without looking away from the hot couple.

I felt a pang of jealousy and I thought about what Tammy said. I wondered if she meant from me -- or was she perhaps making an insinuation about the robust pool boy? Either way, I was still envious of Logan.

The couple finally broke their kiss with a loud smooch and affectionate laugh, then Kayla immediately turned and gathered me in her gaze.

"You can keep feeling it all night if you want," she said with a cocky smile. "Logan's right, I do like showing off."

I suddenly realized I hadn't let go of her bicep and pulled back with a start, as if I had touched a hot pan. Her eyes flicked briefly downward, and her smile curled up a bit more as she turned to sit down. I quickly bent at the waist to obscure my hard-on and scurried back to my seat on the couch.

Looking across the table, I watched Kayla pick up her wine and raise it to her mouth. As she sipped, she stared at me with gleaming eyes over the top of the glass. Had she noticed my arousal? My breath seemed to shake as I inhaled. I felt so off balance and vulnerable. I hated the unfamiliar sensations. Yet strangely my cock had the opposite reaction.

I broke her gaze and took a piece of Stilton and a fig to give myself a distraction. The strong flavor had the effect of smelling salts, waking me from the stupor I had entered upon first touching her arm. With my ego suddenly in question, I was determined to regain the upper hand. I resolved hastily to turn the conversation back to the lower station of Logan's career.

"So Logan, how goes the pool biz?" I asked, trying not to sound too condescending, but allowing a touch of doubt into my tone. "Any interesting stories to regale us with?"

Logan turned to me with a serious look and spoke with a confidence he hadn't displayed all evening.

"Business is the best it's ever been, thanks for asking."

As my attention had been on Kayla all night, I hadn't really taken the time to observe Logan beyond his uncomfortable reactions to her slights. At ease, he was actually quite a handsome fellow, with the sort of rugged good looks that could be equally at home on a job site or in a boardroom. His broad shoulders and barrel chest gave him an imposing air, yet it was countered by a friendly demeanor that made him approachable, maybe even a bit magnetic.

"The pandemic sent a lot of people to their second homes, plus a lot of new folks entered the market," he added as explanation. "And as luck would have it, pretty much all of them want new pools. I'm stacked with orders and have four crews running non-stop to get as much done as we can before the weather freezes over. I've even pulled the old man out of retirement to help us keep up. Even so, we'll still have a long backlog come spring."

"Good for you, Logan," Tammy enthused. "I bet that's been really gratifying, especially if you've ever had any doubts about your decision to leave the city and come back out here."

"It really has been," Logan said reflectively.

"All pool boy jokes aside, it's been amazing to see Logan step up to this challenge," Kayla added supportively as she put her arm around him. I noticed the loose sweater tighten around her breasts, causing a flutter in my groin as their ample volume was finally revealed. "I've even been inspired to put more time in to help out."

"What sort of work do you do to pitch in, Kayla?" I inquired with a touch of skepticism, unable to picture her with a shovel.

"Logan mostly sends me to do his dirty work," she answered with a playful giggle.

I couldn't help leaning forward a bit as she said it.

"Basically, she delivers bad news and handles damage control," Logan explained with a boyish grin.

"With all that's going on, delays are inevitable," she clarified. "I meet with unhappy clients and make sure they stick with us until we can get to them."

"And how does that go?" I asked curiously.

"I never lose a negotiation," Kayla stated pointedly, her eyes lasering in on mine. Then she added with a brash smile, "And I almost always get them to add something to the project. Maybe some decorative tiles here, a bigger hot tub there, sometimes a water slide...I can be very persuasive."

As she said the last words, she winked, causing my stiff cock to twitch. I couldn't tell if she was toying with me, or actually trying to compete with my claims of negotiating prowess.

"She's my secret weapon," Logan laughed as he put an arm around her and gave a squeeze.

I noticed how the couple now held onto each other affectionately. Oddly, their dynamic had completely changed since the start of the evening. Kayla had practically been dismissive of him, yet now they were mutually supportive, exuding confidence together, as dauntless as any power couple I knew. Except sexier.

"The most fun thing has been seeing some of the amazing spreads out here," Kayla continued. "Giant seaside villas, massive equestrian estates, colonial manors, modern masterpieces. I've met lots of hedge fund titans, captains of industry, heirs to old fortunes, you know, billionaire types. The kind of people who can afford to hire the most expensive bankers and lawyers."

As she finished speaking, she tipped up her glass and downed the remainder of her wine, again looking at me over the rim. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, almost mockingly so. It was only after she continued talking again that I fully processed what she had said. I was taken aback. She was insinuating we were the hired help!

"I've met some super interesting folks, people who've accomplished incredible things yet are so humble and approachable," Kayla added wistfully, then her tone changed. "Of course, I've also met some serious D-bags. The type who flaunt their Vacheron watch and drive around town in a yellow Lamborghini. You know, the kind who show you all their expensive stuff to compensate for other shortcomings..."

Her eyes flicked briefly down to my crotch, and I winced at her insinuation. I couldn't believe her subtle taunts had shifted from Logan to me. Damn, she had a lot of spirit. Before I could come up with a response, Tammy redirected the conversation:

"You know what, silly me! After all the workout discussion, we haven't even shown you guys the new fitness studio yet. And Kayla, I'd love your advice on any additional equipment or accessories we should have for our sessions."

"Great idea!" answered Kayla.

Everyone else stood up and set their empty glasses down. I remained seated, sipping the last of my Chambertin.

"I can hang back and uncork the wine you guys brought," I informed the group. "I'll meet you over there with glasses in a minute."

Tammy led the couple out the side door of the pool house and into a breezeway that turned a corner around the pool deck. The fitness studio was a separate building that flanked a side of the pool, forming an L-shape with the pool house. The effect was similar to a Balinese villa we had once stayed in, with separate cabanas for each room.

I waited for everyone to get out of sight before I stood and adjusted my protruding erection, my real reason for hanging back. Kayla's innuendo was really getting to me. Even her insulting 'hired help' and penis size allusions did nothing to stem my growing fascination with her. If anything, her brazenness in attempting them made her seem a more worthy opponent.

And I'll admit I got a thrill from our suggestive banter. The sensation reminded me of the way I'd felt a few times negotiating against ballbuster female bankers. Something about going against powerful women really turned me on. And beating them had turned me on even more.

As I stood at the wet bar pulling the cork from the Cabernet, I thought about the tone Kayla had managed to build throughout the evening. From demeaning her husband, to demonstrating her physical superiority, to eventually demeaning me, I had let her throw me increasingly off balance. I felt an urge to regain the upper hand.

But what were we even negotiating? What was there to win? Or was she simply using the situation to compensate for her own insecurities? She wouldn't be the first person to knock down a status figure to feel better about themself. I decided that was probably it, and that I had unfortunately been playing into her hand.

I poured four glasses, leaving mine a bit short with a half glass still in the bottle pending judgement of its worthiness. I hated being stuck nursing a drink I didn't enjoy. As I set the bottle down, I ruminated on ways to turn the tables, working under my new set of assumptions. While this may seem conniving, it was what I did for a living, and I fucking loved it. Psychology of human interaction was my intuitive skill, I thought of myself as a savant at it.

Before picking up the wine glasses, I decided to adjust myself one last time, as my manhood had softened somewhat but hadn't fully deflated. I stuck my hand under my waistband and pushed my rod downward to limit the tenting effect.

"Need a hand, Dave?" asked a woman's voice just behind me.

I quickly yanked my hand out of my pants and turned to find Kayla standing less than a foot away. With her height advantage it practically felt like she was on top of me.

"Excuse me?" I asked in surprise, craning my neck to look up at her face.

I took an uneven breath and found myself engulfed in a cloud of her alluring natural scent. My cock immediately reacted to her pheromones, straining its topside against my briefs. I was relieved I had pushed it down, or it might have even bumped her leg. Then I thought about her question: was it possible she was asking if I wanted her help adjusting my package?

"To help you carry the wine glasses, of course," she answered flatly as she pointed out the obvious. "Tammy suggested you might need a hand."

I let out a relieved breath. Although a part of me was oddly disappointed.

"Sure! I was debating how I would carry all four in one trip," I answered cheerfully, doing my best to disguise my flustered emotions. I stepped aside to give her access to the counter, "Thanks for the help."

"No problem," she said with a warm smile as she grabbed two glasses.

I reached for the other two and was surprised to hear a gruff, "Ahem." I flashed a glance up at Kayla and saw her nod in the direction of the sink. I could feel my face suddenly redden.

Without saying a word, I walked to the sink as nonchalantly as possible, squirted some liquid soap on my hands and quickly washed. Now I knew she had seen me stick my hand down my trousers, but what did she think I was doing? Lots of guys re-tuck their shirts or innocently adjust themselves that way. Then I recalled her earlier glances at my crotch. Fuck!

"You know I have a little secret to confess," Kayla said suggestively.

"What would that be?" I responded trying to sound casual.

I remained facing the sink flicking water off my hands, not wanting to look at her and reveal my nervous trepidation, nor my wanton curiosity. I had already let her take control of the tempo again, and I couldn't give her any further satisfaction.

There was a lengthy pause, as if she were thinking about whether to say something. I began to sweat, worried she would call me out for inappropriately touching myself. But a part of me hoped she would say something, even if it was embarrassing, just to have her acknowledge the growing sexual tension between us.

As the silence continued, I realized she had caught me again. In a normal discourse, I would have turned to look at her by now. Not doing so showed her I was deliberately trying not to, attempting to appear disinterested yet revealing the opposite. Fuck!

I snapped my head around toward her, faster than I intended. I was so torn up inside. No one ever so much as rattled me. Yet it felt like this young woman had me constantly backed into the ropes. And seemingly with little effort, as if she were still throwing light jabs, toying with me, trying to decide if, and when, to pull out her real punches.

"This wine is actually from my father's Napa estate," she finally revealed, at once stemming my concern, yet disappointing me with her absence of sexual intimation.

I looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I was going to wait to see what you thought of it -- sort of a blind test," she explained. "But then I reconsidered and realized that would be childish. I mean, what was I going to do? Not tell you if you didn't like it? Besides, I know it's really fucking good, so why would I need you to confirm that for me?"

With a satisfied smirk, she turned on her heel and began walking toward the door. I suddenly saw an opening:

"You're the one who said she likes showing off."

Kayla stopped in her tracks. Maybe I finally had her at a disadvantage?

"Guess it depends on how much I look up to the spectator," she said sassily, glancing back and making a point of looking down her nose at me.

She turned and continued walking to the door, swaying her hips hypnotically with each step. I instinctively watched, the distraction somehow tempering the demeaning implications of what she had just said.

She pulled open the door, then stopped midway through it with one foot raised behind her to hold it open. Her head turned and she nodded toward the exit as a signal to follow. I noticed curiously that she had the same cunning smile as when I forgot to let go of her bicep...

I flinched as I realized I hadn't moved yet. Caught again. I hastily grabbed the remaining wine glasses and followed her through the door. As her face turned away, I scowled to myself that I kept letting her get the best of me. I would have to step up my game. But for once, I was beginning to doubt my abilities.

We entered the brightly lit studio and I gazed around at the large, airy space we had created. Half of the room consisted of light maple flooring that aligned to a mirrored wall with an attached ballet barre. The other half had a padded floor we had selected for optimal cushion without the rubbery scent. The tall ceiling peaked to a pyramid, with white painted wood and strategically placed uplighting further brightening the space.

Tammy and Logan were on the far side of the room, with him on a weight bench demonstrating a bench press. The bar held more weight than I had ever lifted, yet he seemed to be pumping with ease. Tammy watched attentively, not noticing Kayla and I enter the room.

I followed Kayla across the gym, unable to take my eyes off her firm ass as her glutes expanded and filled the white denim with each purposeful step. Every part of the tall beauty seemed to operate like a precise instrument, each individual muscle moving intentionally, in perfect coordination. I was thankful my dick was still aimed down as it expanded yet again.

We reached the weight area just as Logan dropped the barbell onto the stand with a clang. I stepped forward to hand Tammy her wine and she jumped, placing a hand on her chest.

"Oops, you startled me!" she said with a nervous laugh as she took the glass.

I was struck with the irony that she was checking out Logan, just as I was checking out Kayla.

"Here's your next wine, Logan," Kayla said as she extended her arm toward him.

Seemingly oblivious, Logan sat up abruptly, bumping Kayla's hand and sending a big splash of wine onto his white polo.

"Oh, shit!" he said in surprise, looking down at the mono-colored shirt, now splattered diagonally in purple like a Jackson Pollack.

"Shoot, sorry hun!" Kayla exclaimed as she set down his partly full glass.

"Dave, grab some paper towel from the bathroom to clean up the floor," Tammy instructed, immediately taking charge of the situation. She set her wine down on a step riser and continued, "Logan, come with me to the house and we'll spray some stain remover on that before it sets. I can lend you one of my son's old shirts, he has pretty broad shoulders too."

I couldn't help feeling a flash of envy as Tammy called out the size of his shoulders, then by omission implied that the cut of my shirts was too narrow. Yet jealousy was quickly overridden by the tantalizing realization that I would soon be alone with Kayla again.

Logan looked up from the weight bench at his wife, who seemed to nod her approval. Then he stood and walked out with Tammy while I set my wine down and went to get the paper towel.

Upon return, I noticed Kayla inspecting our treadmill, then she nodded to herself and wandered over to our weight machine, sipping pensively on her wine. I got down on my hands and knees and dried up the mess, then cleaned the residual with a wet paper towel. An uncomfortable silence pervaded the room.

"You missed a spot," Kayla said quietly, eliciting a shiver as I felt her voice close to my ear.

Her arm extended past my head, and she pointed at a small puddle. I had half a mind to tell her to clean up her own mess, but I was determined not to let her agitate me.

"Oh, thanks," I responded instead, as I quickly sopped it up.

I stood and saw she had roamed onto the wood floor. After throwing away the paper towel, I casually walked over to join her. She seemed to be testing the sturdiness of the ballet barre with her hands.

"Do you dance?" I asked, on the chance that her inspection of the barre was more for show, hoping to subtly shift the equilibrium.

"Why? Are you asking?" she said teasingly as she took two long strides and stood directly in front of me in a ballroom dance posture.

I felt a flutter in my chest as her giant figure loomed over me. She had played my question expertly.

"No, I just thought you might know something about ballet the way you were inspecting the barre," I said with a nervous laugh, turning away.

I stepped forward to face the mirror, out from under her shadow.

"Hm," she grunted curtly, ignoring my ballet question.

I watched in the mirror as she pivoted and stepped directly behind me. I suddenly felt very small. She was an entire head taller, which was already obvious. But her shoulders were also broader and squarer than mine. Her arms were thicker, and her head was bigger. Her white capris and beige sweater contrasted sharply with my dark grey chinos and black golf shirt, creating a sort of halo effect around my body. I seemed to fit neatly inside her silhouette like a nested matryoshka doll, except in one respect -- my belly curved out to the sides, just crossing the outline of her upper thighs.

I thought fleetingly about stepping away, but I couldn't make my feet move. Something about the comparison of our bodies had me riveted.

I looked up at her face in the mirror and her eyes caught mine. Her lip curled slightly then she raised her wine glass to take a small sip.

"You're pretty short," she said bluntly as she lowered the glass.

I tried to avoid reacting, but I couldn't help my eyes narrowing slightly.

"Tammy prefers people don't wear heels on the wood floor," I said tersely, insinuating her height was exaggerated.

"These are wedges, they don't really have a heel," she said defiantly, then she shrugged. "But I don't need them to feel powerful."

I noticed how she equated size to power again, intentionally contradicting my earlier assertion. I heard a couple clacks on the floor behind me and Kayla's head lowered a couple inches. Then I flinched as her toes touched one of the heels of my loafers.