The Houseguest Ch. 01: Sunday

Saturday

The public address chirped as he approached the gate "British Airways 114 to London Heathrow now boarding Group 1." Dressed in his usual flight attire of smart jeans and a Brunello Cuccinelli hoodie, he approached the gate staff and presented his passport and ticket. The words he longed to hear "Mr. Lewin, you've been upgraded from Business to First. Here is your new ticket, enjoy your flight."

"That's wonderful!" he said thanking the attractive lady helping him.

Jordan Lewin sat is his dark blue first-class suite and was handed a glass of Laurent Perrier Grand Siècle which he ignored.

"The champagne not to your liking Mr. Lewin?" The flight attendant inquired.

"I'm not in the mood of champagne?"

Realizing that this could be misinterpreted, he followed up "Could you grab me a glass of Blue Label?"

"Of course, Sir." the attendant responded with a smile reserved for those sitting in the low single-digit seats on any aircraft.

At 38, Jordan Lewis stood a touch over six-foot tall and carried his 185lb frame well. He played rugby at university and maintained his physique. He was lean and strong, his was stomach flat and shoulders broad.

He carried himself with a calm authoritative presence that exuded confidence. His blue eyes were clear and bright and although his brown hair was a little grayer at the side than last year, this only added this his gravitas.

Well-educated, he had 12 letters after his name but never felt the need to use any of them. A career in corporate finance followed university and he excelled due in large part to is commanding presence: when he spoke, everyone listened.

"Is there anything else you'd like Mr. Lewin?" Asked the flight attendant trying her best to appear alluring.

"I'm fine. Thank you." Jordan replied, noting that her skirt was two inches higher than when he boarded.

Trying to hide her feelings of rejection, she smiled demurely and retreated to the galley.

The large glass of whiskey made the journey from New York literally fly by. He slept well and was refreshed when he heard the pilot notify the passengers it was forty minutes to landing.

Sunday

Jordan was looking forward to the day despite this not being a typical trip to London. He never flew to London for work trip on Saturday night, always preferring to travel as late as possible however on this occasion he came in a day early to collect a vintage watch he bought several years ago that was just serviced.

A creature of habit, when in London he always stayed at the Four Seasons Hotel near the Tower of London and was known by name by many of the staff. He preferred the quick walk to the office and the proximity to the river to blow off steam with a run. However, this was not to be his destination from the airport.

For the next three nights he would be staying with his sister-in-law and her husband, Sarah and Scott.

This was not something he relished given he would have to be social and wouldn't have time decompress but they had been eager to have him visit and get his 'seal of approval' for their new purchase.

Both 31, Jordan liked Sarah and Scott and had known Sarah for ten years and Scott for six. Working in similar fields to Jordan he had been instrumental in guiding their careers and facilitating the right introductions for their respective advancement.

Sarah at 5'4" was only two inches short than Scott but weighed the same which said more about Scott's lack of nourishment. Jordan always liked Sarah's body.

Womanly yet taut and firm, apart from her ass. Despite it being small and pert, it always jiggled more than it should, in a way Jordan found adorable. Her dirty blonde hair was often uncontrollable, and she seemed to constant battle to control it through means of tying, twisting, and manipulating.

Jordan's plan for the day was straightforward: have an Uber take him to collect the watch, a light lunch and head to Sarah and Scott's for some pleasantries and as quickly as he could, retire and do some work.

The Uber encountered little traffic on the journey from Heathrow to Mayfair. Arriving he collected his leather suit carrier and matching duffle bag from the trunk and with a small nod of gratitude to the driver headed into the Burlington Arcade.

Opening the door to the tiny store that was built in 1819 he was greeted warmly by a genial older man who clearly knew him well.

"Mr. Lewin! How nice to see you!"

Before Jordan had an opportunity to reciprocate the pleasantries the man was off into a backroom shouting that Jordan would be very pleased with the work. Returning with a small watch box which he set on the glass counter in-between them. The jeweler gestured for Jordan to open the box. An immaculate black dial Rolex watch from 1978.

"You made a wise purchase Mr. Lewin. These 6263 models have appreciated dramatically since you acquired it." Gushed the jeweler.

"I have heard but I have no intention of selling it -- in fact thanks to your fine workmanship, I'm going to put it on right now".

Jordan appreciated two things: beauty and precision. The watch was a perfect demonstration of those two characteristics. Looking down at the watch and checking the timekeeping a smile crept across his face "Perfect Frank. Excellent work."

The bill was taken care of prior. Following a shake of the hands and a promise to see each other again soon Jordan exited and headed for a light lunch.

He lingered longer at the restaurant than was normal for him.

"Can I get you another glass of Sauvignon Blanc?" asked the waitress.

With a sigh "No thank you, I should be leaving actually." As the waitress went to prepare the check, Jordan knew he was procrastinating to minimize the amount small talk he would have to make with Sarah and Scott.

Arriving at Sarah and Scots's new home in suburbia was jarring for someone that lives in a Tribeca apartment but the accepted exclamations of "You look wonderful!" and "I love the new place!" ushered forth effortlessly.

Welcoming him, they showed him to the guest room on the first floor which shared a bathroom with the master room.

Thanking them for their hospitality with a bottle of 18-year-old Macallan whiskey he picked up at JFK pre-flight. With that he excused himself to unpack, shower and change.

Suitably refreshed, Jordan entered the open-plan kitchen-dining room and could sense tension in the room but endeavored to ignore it.

"Shall I pour us some wine?" Scott suggested and busied himself locating glasses and pouring when they all agreed.

"All good?" He questioned Sarah quietly. No answer came but a look that suggested 'Yes, but I don't want to talk about it'.

Sarah always loved her brother-in-law. He was successful when they first met, and she was looking for a job having just finished university. She knew her crush was stupid but that didn't stop her thinking about him.

Over the hour it took to finish the bottle, Sarah's eye-rolling at Scott's jokes and anecdotes was unsubtle to the point of rude and laid bare an underlying issue in the room.

Regretting his decision to stay for three nights, Jordan fabricated a need to do some stretches in his room as he was stiff from the flight hoping the space would help them resolve whatever was going on between them.

"Fancy a glass of wine?" Shouted Scott from the bottom of the staircase to Jordan after about an hour.

Ever the polite houseguest "Sure, why not" Jordan yelled back.

Expecting the tension had been resolved, he walked barefoot down the stairs. Upon entering the kitchen-dining room he knew it was not the case.

Glancing over at Sarah in the kitchen area. In the interim, she had changed her clothes and was now wearing an old oversized black Led Zeppelin t-shirt, despite not being able to name a single song.

Frayed, it hung high up her pale leg, somewhere between a mini and micro skirt in length. Reaching items from high shelves, she several times flashed her white cotton panties to the room.

Jordan was somewhat surprised as he thought she would have showed a little more decorum with a guest around but put it down to her comfort having known each other for many years.

"You don't do anything around here" Sarah yelled from the kitchen end of the dining-kitchen room at Scott breaking any détente before it had a chance to form.

"What!?" Scott offered back, smiling nervously as this comment was apropos of nothing.

"I've done everything around here all weekend and I'm sick of it."

"Be fair Sarah." Scott rebuts meekly with a glance to me that I couldn't see but Sarah could which begs 'Please, not in front of other people.'. To give Sarah a conversational off-ramp Scott reminds her "I did tons yesterday when you went for brunch."

The well-intentioned attempt to move passed the issue had the opposite effect. Akin to a red rag to a bull.

"You can't tell me when I can see my friends! You are not the boss of me! That's not fair." Sarah's tirade lost steam rapidly and became a parody of a bratty teenage tantrum.

Jordan looked at Scott, but he was offering no counterattack and stood there holding the unopened bottle of wine like he hoped that it was going to rescue him from this moment.

Her continued staccato complaints were tough to follow as a cohesive, linear train of thought but enough was enough.

"Sarah! I don't know what the problem is but you are just frustrated with something. Take a breath and I will grab some glasses and we can relax a little."

Jumping slightly when she heard Jordan speak her name loudly, Sarah was in two minds of what to do next.

As he walked behind her to get some glasses Jordan could tell she was unsure what to do next.

"Don't you talk to me like that! Don't tell me to relax!" Made it clear she made her decision to speak to Jordan the same way she spoke to Scott.

"I'm just trying to defuse the situation."

As Jordan reaches for the wine glasses, she gets his attention.

"Who do you think you are!?" she spits.

"Don't push it Sarah" he tells her with one eyebrow slightly raised to indicate that he is not playing, and she won't want this to escalate.

"Or what!?" Turning her back to him and looking at Scott across the room, she turns her head to Jordan and taunts "you're not going to do anything!"

"I'm warning you Sarah..." before he can finish his sentence

"Oh, Fuck Off Jordan."

In a single motion, Jordan glides across the three feet distance between them and pushes her back firmly until she bent at the waist over the cold white Carrara marble kitchen island.

She was not expecting it, but her resistance was fruitless. Deftly hooking his thumb under the back of her t-shirt, he slide his hand up her back exposing her panties and lower back. Once his hand reached her bra strap, he took hold of it like the reins of a horse.

Realizing her situation, she squirmed and protested but the Rubicon had been crossed, Sarah pleaded "What the fuck are you doing Jordan! You are my bother-in-law. Let me go right now."

Using his free hand, Jordan pulled her white panties down in one swift forceful yank. They came to rest asymmetrically, halfway down the thigh of her left leg and on the knee of her right.

"Eight" he announces with no context.

With her small, but pleasingly fat, bare ass writhing, he delivers three solid medium-hard spanks.

Her appeals to be let go stopped.

Due to her wriggling, two of the initial spanks hit the bottom of Sarah's ass making substantial contact with her exposed pussy.

Given her prior mood, he expected more screaming, cursing and general thrashing about, but she quickly became pliant and stayed still for the remaining five.

Scott, silent throughout, probably in a degree of shock of what had just happened in the last thirty seconds in his own house, remained unmoved next to the dining table, taking in tableau in front of him.

Jordan released his hold of her bra strap, Sarah remained in place. He took a step back to view her properly, her ass now a shade of bright red interspersed with patches of white where the contact had been hardest.

"You will be more respectful in the future," with a knowing tone in his voice. It is unclear if she was aware of her actions, but she gave a small reflexive nod of her head in agreement through the sobs.

As Jordan walked out of the kitchen, without looking back, he could hear Sarah getting herself together. The sniffing sound of tears being wiping away, the noise of her panties being pulled up, and the small sharp inhale of breath as the elasticated waistband rode over her stinging bottom.

Jordan retreated to the guest room, threw in his AirPods and started to triage his work inbox for a couple of hours to refocus his mind on what had just transpired. As the post flight tiredness kicked in, he shut down the laptop, threw on a podcast and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Pushing open the bathroom door, Jordan witnesses Sarah naked on her tiptoes standing side on to him looking at herself in the mirror intently. Gripping the basin with one hand and furiously rubbing her clit with the other.

A true rabbit-in-the-headlights look of shock takes hold of her face as she looks to the open doorway and realizes that in her haste, she had forgotten to lock the door.

Sarah's predicament was compounded. Past the point of no return and on the verge of cumming.

For a moment, Jordan watches her body was jerking, her calves tensed, and her face flushed. Knowing she couldn't control herself and had to continue he closed the door without speaking.

Through the last sliver of opening before it shut, Jordan saw her turn back to the mirror and move her face closer to it so she could look herself dead in the eyes.

Within a few seconds the heavy breathing and stifled squeals from the other side of the door peaked and fell to silence. Jordan remained in the hallway, ostensibly waiting to use the bathroom.

When the door opened her face was serene, her body wrapped in a soft white towel and her mind wrapped in a post orgasmic endorphin haze. She was startled to see him there and the calmness on her face gave way to embarrassed. Embarrassed for what he had seen her doing and the realization that they both knew that the spanking he gave her was the catalyst.

Not blocking the doorway but not making it wholly accessible for her to leave either, he stood silently. Bowing her head to look at the ground and without saying a word she deftly crept around his presence without touching him.