The Never Series Pt. 03

The room featured a pool table, snooker table, dart board, ping pong table, and behind them all, a huge leather sectional surrounding a massive HD TV on the interior wall. There was built-in audio system that had speakers installed both inside and outside the house and a game console with dozens of choices. In the corner of the room was a small kitchen and bar with a full-sized refrigerator and stove.

Radiating off the main room was an exercise area with a padded floor and an impressive universal gym, as well as two elliptical machines. Several yoga mats were strewn about between the machines.

On the other side, buried in the below-ground corner of the home was a passively-cooled wine closet with built-in humidor. When Caroline led him inside, he was surprised at the cool room temperature, which, based on the thermometer on the door, was a chilly 60° despite the fact that the high temperature was supposed to be nearly 20° warmer that day. The three sides of the room featured floor to ceiling custom-built bottle racks, most of which were full. He estimated that the small room contained perhaps 500 bottles. Finally, there was a work/storage room with assorted tools and work benches, as well as a dozen storage racks.

Caroline folded the doors back, and they walked out into the massive patio. Directly in front of them stood a large stone fountain that formed the physical center of the space. Water bubbled out of a jagged mountain of rock that was at least ten feet high. It flowed around twisting crags and poured down in little cataracts that spilled into a pool surrounding it that was perhaps thirty feet in diameter. The fountain's pool was enclosed by a low wall on which to sit. To the left of the fountain was a large in-ground Jacuzzi, covered by a solar blanket that helped maintain the water temperature. To the right, was a 40 x 80 foot pool surrounded by a rubber-coated pool deck and drain. Two diving boards occupied the pool's deep end.

To the left of the door, underneath the second floor deck, was a protected cabana, replete with wind curtains, two daybeds, and a teak and cushion conversation set. To the right, beyond the pool, was the two-story casita that served as a guest house. It housed two bedrooms, a kitchen, bathroom, and sitting area, and on the backside of the first story, a three-car garage.

Next to the casita, 30 feet or so from the pool were three outdoor, long tables surrounded by three dozen chairs. Beyond the dining area was a flagstone path that led to a flower garden behind the casita. With hundreds of blooming, drought-tolerant plants of various species, the garden featured an incredible variety of colors, textures, and aromas.

Beyond the low flagstone walls that protected the garden were the hilly woods he had seen on his way in. They were comprised of mature Foothill ash, Fremont cottonwood, California alder and sycamore, cypress, and Mesa oak that formed a shady canopy over most of the property. All of the trees were meticulously trimmed with any excess brush and leaves cleared away. Beyond it all was the canyon, rising behind the 20 foot retaining wall that formed the back of the patio area. And beyond the canyon were the taller peaks of the mountains.

He remembered that there had been wildfires in that area only a year or so earlier, which got him to wondering, "You keep this area so well maintained. Is that because of wildfires?"

"Exactly! See that area of the mountains off to the west?" She asked, pointing off in the distance. "Can you see the burn area over to the left? That was last year. The fire never got closer than six or seven miles, but because it's all mountains and vegetation in between here and there, we all thought we would have to evacuate. Thankfully, we never did. Still, it makes me nervous, so all of us that live around here have learned our lesson: clear out any dry or dead crap now, so it doesn't burn later."

He shook his head to denote his understanding. The truth was he didn't understand. He could appreciate the attraction of living in beautiful, wild places, but every summer most of California was a tinderbox, and with more and more people moving in, and more and more homes being built in areas that were prone to fires, it wasn't a question of if tragedy would strike, but when.

"People are stupid, Chris. I don't understand why they feel the need to test nature. Nature's going to win, no matter what. Anyway, I'm probably stupider than the rest of them. I'm higher up the canyon wall than anybody else around here. When the fire comes, my place is likely the first one to go."

"If you know that, why did you buy this place?" he asked with confusion.

"Well, when we moved in, I didn't know that. I just thought it was beautiful, and most of the places I needed to go were nearby, so it was convenient, too. My friend, Tanya, the publisher I told you about? She lives about three miles away on Benedict Canyon Drive. Her office is down on Sunset, and my editor Jennifer lives in West Hollywood. Anyway, this whole area is kind of a world unto itself. I haven't had to get on the freeway in, like, a month. If you live in L.A., that's a godsend."

"Yeah, tell me about it! I used to have to suffer through a trip down here at least once a month when I was a principal. I probably shouldn't say this, Caroline, but I hate this fucking city!" He wanted to clarify -- it wasn't L.A. traffic that disgusted him. What he really hated were the people -- rich, beautiful, lazy, superficial, arrogant, and fake -- that pretty much summed up Hollywood people. He knew that wasn't fair -- that not everybody was like that, but he'd met far too many that were, and as far as he was concerned, the whole city was a lost cause. Still, Caroline was his hostess, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

"Oh, believe me", she responded emphatically, "I understand exactly where you're coming from! For me, it's a love/hate relationship. It's like the lyrics of that song you turned me onto all those years ago back in Mt. Pleasant, "I love this city like a mischievous cat, 'cause it troubles you enough to make you feel alive."

He smiled in fond remembrance. "Jules Shear", he said wistfully, "I haven't thought about him in decades. God, that guy could write lyrics, and you're right, he was talking about L.A. in that song." Lost in a daydream again, he didn't say anything for a few moments. It made him feel good to know that she remembered those lyrics and that song, and even more importantly, that he was the one who had turned her on to the music. Maybe she really was different from all those Hollywood types he despised.

Caroline broke his reverie. "Anyway, to finish my story, we went for fifteen years or so without any problems, and over the last five years we've had extreme drought, and all of a sudden, shit started burning. If I knew back then, what I know now, I would never have bought this place. But now it's home, and I don't feel like moving unless I have to." She paused. "Anyway, that's about all there is to see. It's starting to get warm, why don't we head back to the pool for that swim?"

"It certainly is a beautiful place, Caroline; though I have to admit, I find it all a little intimidating. For me, it's another world."

"Well, for right now, another world or not, I'd like you to make yourself at home in it." She smiled and gave him a quick kiss. They circled around the front of the house, and approached the back patio from the other flagstone walkway on the opposite side, until they were stand next to the pool, shimmering in the brilliant sunlight. After the shady woods, he had to squint because of all of the reflected light.

"There's an indoor bathhouse right over there." Caroline said pointing to a door near the cabana. Everything we need is in there, and you can leave your things there as well." She started walking to some chaise recliners on the other side of the pool, and then, remembering something, suddenly turned back toward the house, "What would you like to drink?"

"It doesn't matter -- whatever you're having!" She nodded and disappeared inside.

He walked across the patio toward the bathhouse. Outside the room, he found an outdoor shower, replete with a privacy stall, and when he opened the door to the bathhouse, what he found there was again far more elaborate than what he'd expected.

There were a dozen cubbies in which to store clothes, shoes, and personal items. They struck him as strangely similar to the lockers you'd find in a gym locker room. In addition, there were several shelves that held assorted towels, sunscreens and lotions, visors and caps, as well as a basket that held practically every style of sunglasses ever made. On the other side of the small room were some cabinets. He opened several of the doors to investigate. They were filled with all sorts of pool toys and accessories: plastic and Styrofoam floaties, inflatable mattresses and rafts, water pistols and guns, and an electric air pump to inflate things.

He stripped off his clothes and shoes, put them in one of the cubbies, hastily applied sunscreen, grabbed a towel, which he modestly wrapped about his waist, as well as the bottle of sunscreen. Then, he donned a pair of Ray-Bans and headed back out to the patio where he settled into a chaise recliner in the full sun only ten feet or so away from an umbrella. He stretched the towel across his mid-section and laid back to relax in the warmth.

A couple minutes later, Caroline emerged from the game room, approaching with a tray that held two highball glasses and a glass pitcher, all of them filled with ice and some kind of clear liquid, along with a bowl of sliced limes. She stopped, and hovering over him, asked cheerily, "How about a gin and tonic?"

He looked up and smiled, "You know, I think I could probably get used to this lifestyle -- sitting around the pool, drinking cocktails before noon! Of course, in a couple of weeks you'd have to put me in rehab, but...."

She giggled, "You know, if I recall correctly, that night back in Mt. Pleasant, at your party -- this is what we were drinking. Am I right?"

"You are right! Good memory! My god, that was one crazy summer", he responded squeezing one of the lime slices into a highball glass and then tossing it in. He was lost in a nostalgic recollection. "I think every night of the week for three months, Dean and I polished off either a huge bottle of cheap vodka or cheap gin, and when we drank gin, it was always gin and tonics." He looked up at her, smiling. Thanks", he said, lifting the drink from the tray.

She set the tray down on a small table that sat next to the umbrella and then picked up the table and moved it between his chaise recliner and another one. Then, she turned to him, and said with faux anger, "All right, mister, here are the rules. When we're out here, there are two things that are prohibited. One -- no cell phones or other electronic devices. No escaping inside our telephones today!" He shook his head, as if to plead innocence.

"Anyway, I'm glad to see you're complying with that statute. On the other hand, you are violating the second rule -- towels are used only for lying on or for drying off; they'll be no hiding under them, capisce? So... when I get back from the bathhouse, I expect you to have lost that." She nodded threateningly at the towel that concealed him -- a smile on her face, her hands on her hips, casting a long, authoritative shadow across him.

He set his drink down and put both hands up as if to surrender, "Okay, I don't want any trouble with management." Caroline grinned, turned to leave; then finding the nearest umbrella, she slid it a couple of feet until she was able to adjust its angle so its shadow fully cloaked both the lounges and the table from the sun. Then she turned back and sauntered past the pool on her way to the changing room. He followed her with his eyes, staring with admiration as her shapely ass swung from side to side.

He picked up his drink and, shaking his head in disbelief, took a sip. The whole scene seemed unreal to him, and the surrealism scared him. How could it be that his fortunes had changed so profoundly so quickly? It was one thing to find himself in the presence of someone as sexy and alluring as Caroline and to know that he'd been inside her only hours before. That thought brought a rush of blood, and suddenly he couldn't shake dozens of images from the night before from his mind. The last one, in particular, had him fixated: Caroline's stunning face, painted with a copious spatter of his cum!

But if all of that wasn't enough, he realized that the fantasy went even beyond Caroline. He looked around him, and the panorama before his eyes struck him as utterly unrealistic, like a scene from an erotic romance. The fact that within hours he was going to meet a representative from a major publishing company -- some hot woman, he'd been told -- who was, very possibly, reading his story at that very moment, a story written to exude lust and passion.... And all of it simply made the moment too dreamlike and unreal such that he had to question whether or not any of it was actually happening.

He set his drink down on the table and with sheepish submission lifted the towel from his hips to toss it over the back of his chaise recliner. Unaware of the effect that his fantasy had had on him, he was startled by the realization that he was beginning to get hard.

He knew Caroline would probably be delighted, but, in this instance, her reaction didn't matter that much -- he didn't want her to discover him like that. Oblivious to how long he'd been daydreaming, he decided he'd better act quickly lest he be caught with his flag at half-staff.

He tossed the sunglasses on the tray and strode deliberately to the deep end of the pool, and, wood in hand, he climbed the low diving board, took two long strides, bounced, and dove. Out and down he went, his arms outstretched until he shattered the placid surface, plunging smoothly through cool water, his feet kicking, legs paddling, holding his breath, until he very nearly touched the gently curving concrete bottom. Then, as if he himself had become a graceful parabola, he arched his back and began his ascent, cutting through the blue, his arms at his sides now, legs still, feet pointed, until his head cracked the still surface ten feet from the shallow end, and he emerged from the deep, gasping for air.

The water felt amazing, a welcome refresher for both body and mind. He stood in the waist-deep water next to a marker on the side of the pool that read "3½ ft." First he wiped the water from his eyes, then slid his palms backwards over the top of his head to squeegee water from his hair.

He looked down to check himself. The pool had done little to cool his excitation; his cock was still refusing to hide and somehow instead seemed almost magnified by the water's lens. He stood for several seconds, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face and chest, waiting, hoping his cock would cooperate.

Suddenly, the door of the changing room opened, and Caroline emerged, wearing nothing but sunglasses, sandals, and a seductive grin. She approached, carrying a couple of towels in one hand that swung to and fro in syncopation to the motion of her breasts which were swaying with the natural swing of her hips.

Though her skin was naturally pale, he could see the distinct outline of tan lines left by a non-existent, but apparently tiny, two-piece bikini. Her skin, saturated in sunscreen, glistened in the bright sunlight, while her dark hair, sunglasses, sandals, and trimmed landing strip provided a striking contrast to the two, lighter shades of flesh. She certainly wasn't making things any easier on him.

When she neared, she stopped, faced him, and looked down. He could distinctly see the crease of her pussy only ten feet or so away from him and just two or three feet higher than eye level. Slowly, her grin turned to a full smile, "Did you throw out a lifeline, or are you just happy to see me?" She joked and then took two more steps until she was behind him.

He paused, not knowing what, if anything, to say. "Why is this damn water so transparent?" he finally asked, grinning with both obvious sarcasm and embarrassment as he turned to face her.

"Oh, honey, don't be self-conscious", Caroline giggled. She spread out her towels and sat down at the corner of the pool. She slipped off her sandals, set them behind her, and then let both feet dangle into the water, spreading her legs apart to fully reveal her sex. "After last evening's festivities and those love stories of yours, I'm feeling rather horny myself!" she said. And then, parting her lips, she slipped her slender, index finger inside her.

He began to question himself -- was this Caroline's plan all along? Was this the reason she'd suggested skinny dipping in the first place: that she wanted sex, and she wanted to do it outside? Still, why wouldn't she just ask? She knew as well as he did that he would never refuse her.

Before he could pose the question, she tilted her head downward and stared at him enticingly over the tops of her sunglasses. Then, she reached out one hand, turned her palm upward, and using the same finger with which she'd just entered herself, she beckoned him to her with a series of slow, sexy "cum hither" motions.

Moving slowly, he took short paces, fighting the resistance of the water until he reached the corner of the pool and three convex, curved steps. There, in the fleshy bay formed by her slim legs, he knelt on the first step, and leaning forward, found himself face-to-face with her pussy. She dropped her hand, and with both index fingers, she spread herself open to him, "Eat my pussy, baby! You're so good at it! Make me cum hard like you did last night!"

He lowered his head slightly and ran his tongue the length of her opening. She continued holding her lips apart for him, and with easy access to her clit hood, he began brushing his tongue over the sleek flesh in lighting quick flicks, producing a long, low groan of approval from Caroline, "Ooooohhhhh, fuck that's good!" Then, using more and more saliva, he flattened his tongue and began to move it back and forth in a figure-eight pattern until her flower slowly opened to reveal a new bloom.

It was right there waiting to be taken, so he sucked at her exposed clit with his lips, and then sucked her whole clitoral hood in with the more powerful pressure of his mouth. Once he had that slippery bud inside, he ran the flat of his tongue back and forth across it, and then began alternating that technique with tiny jabs from the pointed tip of his tongue.

He backed away for just a moment to inspect his work. In the bright sunshine and with the light reflecting off the water, there was nothing left to the imagination, and he could clearly see the arousal leaking from Caroline's seething pussy. He knew he could get her off quickly if he entered her with his fingers, but he wasn't sure if she wanted to cum right away or if, in the waning minutes of a lazy, Saturday morning, she might prefer a slower, more attentive approach.

Last night had been about the exhilaration of rediscovery, and so, the pace of their lovemaking, though it started slowly, had become hysterical and frantic. Now, there was no need to rush to a conclusion, and despite what he knew to be Caroline's penchant for instant gratification, he thought it made sense to ask, "Should I use my fingers to make you cum?"

"Oh yeah, baby, I loved it when you did that last night! Don't tease me; don't make me wait!" She removed her sunglasses and gaped at him with desire.

Asked and answered, he thought to himself. So, he slipped first one and then a second finger inside her and began sliding them back and forth, not deeply, but enough to penetrate the pubic floor muscle that ringed the entry to her pussy.