The Swimmer

This story is a work of fiction. All characters are over the age of 18.

I hope you enjoy it and any feedback is appreciated.

And thanks to Kenji Sato for his help with editing

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I love the water. I was addicted at an early age as my family loved to swim and my mother took me to the YMCA pool at an early age. She thought it was important to teach me how to swim so I would be safe around water. Well, I took to it like a fish. I was never scared of it and some of my earliest memories are splashing around and kicking forward with little yellow floaties on my arms.

It was not long before I was swimming without any assistance and they had to drag me out of the pool when it was time to leave.

Well, needless to say, I am a swimmer. I was on State's swim team and was a state champion in the 100 Free while in high school, but the University competition was a much greater challenge. No, I was not an Olympian-caliber swimmer, but I loved the sport and swimming for State was a dream come true. We didn't win a lot of meets, but the sport and camaraderie of the team, were all I needed. However, I was pretty good at it and swimming was just a part of my life.

Each year as the seasons change, I can't help but recall the summer between my Junior and Senior year at State. It was one of the best summers of my life.

They had closed down both the big pool, as well as the practice pool, for renovations and we all went home for the summer. Our coach told us to keep a training schedule which he would mail to us each week. He closed by saying don't drink a lot of beer! He was a great coach and knew us all too well.

I did miss my teammates, and it is harder to train without the friendly competition we had during workouts. I set a schedule and each afternoon I would hit our local Y and do my thing. With my workout schedule, it was hard to find a summer job, for we all needed a bit of extra cash above and beyond our scholarship money. You know, for the beer the coach warned us about.

I grew up in a nice middle-class neighborhood. It was one of those new developments in our community when I was a kid. There was a mix of homes of different sizes, and the ones on the big hill at the end of our cul-de-sac were extremely nice. In fact, some were damn big. I knew them all since I took over the paper route for the area when I was twelve.

Yes, this was some years ago, when people actually got a rolled-up newspaper each morning on their front lawn. Sounds crazy doesn't it. I would get up early, get the stack of morning papers they left by the curb, roll them up, load up the racks on the back of my bike and take off. I got pretty good at throwing them left and right as I rolled down the street. And I am proud to say, I only broke one window in my career. Cost me almost a week's profit, however.

Part of the job, for we were technically independent jobbers, was to collect money from our customers each week or so, to pay for the wholesale papers we got. We kept the extra as our profit. It was actually a little business. I had to 'pay' for the papers regardless of how much I was able to collect from my customers. There was a set price and we had a book with pages for each house. When we collected, we tore off little tickets as their receipt. Sometimes, no one was home and I had to make several trips to get my money. It was work.

The reason I am telling about the paper route is that it is where I first met Mrs. Chambers. The Chambers had the biggest house up the hill. Mr. Chambers owned most of the real estate in our town, or so my parents said. Regardless, they had a large and beautiful home on my paper route. The worst part was that they were at the top of the hill and I always saved that for last on my route, and it was a tough climb some days.

Mr. Chambers was rarely at home and his wife, Ann, always came to the door and paid me. The first time I met Mrs. Chambers was on my collection day. She answered the door with a smile and was always very friendly. She always called me Timmy and I made sure their paper was always on the porch. The Chambers even gave me a big tip at Christmas time.

So, you can see why I was intrigued when I talked with my mother soon after I got home for the summer. My mom knew I was going to want some type of part-time job to make some extra cash. She had run into Ann Chambers at the Safeway and they had chatted. They were not good friends, but being neighbors in our area, they always said hello and would engage in a polite, short conversation. My Mom mentioned I was home for the summer and Mrs. Chambers had inquired how her old paperboy, Timmy, was doing. As it so happened, Mrs. Chambers was looking for someone to help do some yard work and was having trouble finding someone she trusted.

As I learned from Mom, the Chambers had divorced a few years ago. As the gossip went, Mr. Chambers was banging his secretary and got caught. Apparently, Ann Chambers took him to the proverbial cleaners in the divorce, and got the house and a wad of cash. Well, my Mom told her I was looking for something just like that, and to make a long story short, I was to go see her the next morning.

So, I found myself walking up to the same door I did back when I was twelve years old. You just never know where life leads you. Little did I imagine it would be this door and what lay behind it.

After I rang the doorbell, and in a minute, Ann Chambers opened the door.

"Yes, can I help you?" she said.

"Hello, Mrs. Chambers," I said. "It's me, Tim Johnson."

"Oh my God!" she cried. "Timmy! I didn't recognize you. You've...well, you've grown."

"Yes, a bit I guess." I was now about six foot one inch, and had a swimmer's build. Broad shoulders, a classic V-shape torso, and very little body fat.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed once again. "I can't believe it. Come in. Please come in."

I stood still for a moment, almost frozen. Mrs. Chambers had hardly changed a bit in the last seven or eight years. I had assumed she was going to be much older, and well, fat. Later, I learned she had also been Mr. Chambers' secretary when they had married and was several years younger than I had assumed.

She was still very attractive and seemed to have filled out a bit, but in all the right places. She was a natural blonde, or so it seemed, with creamy, flawless skin, that was tanned from the sun. She was dressed in a white silk blouse that fit snugly around her breasts. The first two buttons were undone allowing a nice amount of cleavage to be showing. She had on black shorts that came to just above her knees and her legs looked smooth and tanned. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. I was speechless.

I had never actually been in her home, even though I had been on her doorstep dozens of times. She led me into the living room. A flood of thoughts invaded my mind as I followed her. I was not an expert at gauging a woman's age, but she seemed much younger than I expected. I guess all adults look old to a twelve-year-old.

Her home was immaculate and furnished in a modern style. It was a sea of greys, browns, chrome, and emitted a vibe that was relaxing, and inviting. She sat down on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her.

"Come, sit down. Your mother told me you were at State. How is college life treating you?"

"Fine, Mrs. Chambers, just fine."

"Ok, we must stop with the Mrs. Chambers thing," she said with a smile. "I am Ann. Just call me Ann, okay?"

"Yes, Mrs-I mean Ann." I was not sure I ever knew her first name, and she seemed to be totally at ease.

"I guess it is Tim now," she said with a smile. "I guess I need to get use to the fact you're a grown man."

We chatted for a few minutes and she kept asking about college, my plans and was very sweet. I really didn't have a long-term game plan, but did the best I could to answer her inquiries. After a few minutes, I began to feel more relaxed and we had a pleasant chat. I initially felt like I was still that twelve-year-old talking to Mrs. Chambers, who was now Ann. But slowly, I relaxed and started to become who I was today. Ann's easy manner helped. The old barrier between young paperboy and the 'older' woman began to fade just a bit. She was older than me for sure, but I still couldn't place her in any age range.

"Well, I guess we should talk business," she finally said. "I told your Mom that I needed someone to help get the yard back in shape. I had a man, but he wasn't working out. Apparently, he drank a bit and was, well, not very attentive to the yard. Especially the backyard."

I nodded my head. She went on to explain she also felt he might have been stealing things. She said she never felt comfortable with him around and was glad he was gone.

"So, Tim, do you like yard work, and do you have any experience?"

"Well, to be honest, it isn't my favorite thing," I said with a smile. "But my Dad made sure I knew my way around a lawnmower and trimming and shaping Boxwood. Not to mention planting my mother's iris bulbs, trimming trees and, well, most of what was needed to keep a place looking nice."

She laughed and said, "I would have been surprised if you loved it!"

We discussed what she needed and I told her my schedule. I would like to work early in the day while it's cool and stop mid-afternoon. I needed to work out in the pool and keep up my practice schedule.

"I swim every afternoon at the YMCA pool," I said. "So, I would need to leave sometime after lunch to get my workout in."

"Well, you have to keep in shape for next year. We can't let you get fat and lazy," she said with a laugh. "But the Y is all the way across town. Why don't you just swim here in the pool?"

"Oh, I need a full-size lap pool and home pools just are not big enough."

"I see," she said with a big grin. "You haven't seen the backyard yet. I better show it to you so you know what you are getting into."

She led me through the house to the kitchen/family room that had a solid wall of glass doors leading out to the backyard and the pool. As we entered the room, my mouth fell open. The backyard was very large and you could see it needed some work with the hedges and flower beds, but the pool was amazing. It was a full-size lap pool with a large pool house and the water looked perfect.

I looked over to her and she had a big smile on her face and said, "I like to swim and sun a bit."

I followed her to the pool and she told me what she had in mind for the yard, and she wanted it cleaned and some updates to the landscape. That seemed like a bit of work, but the pool sold me before she finished her plan. To have a pool like this, and not have to share it with all the folks at the Y, was just what I needed.

Next, she showed me the pool house. She called it her studio; I would have called it the second home. It was more like a really nice, big, one-bedroom apartment. As we entered the main room, there were paintings all around, an easel, paints, and all sorts of brushes. I looked up and there was a large skylight that bathed the room in natural light.

"This is my little studio. I like to paint. It is like meditation for me and really helped me get through some trying times."

"I am impressed. So, you painted all these pictures?"

"Yes," she said with a big smile. "I'm just an amateur. It's kind of a hobby."

As I scanned the room, there were some outdoor scenes of the countryside, some classic-looking still life oils, and then I noticed the ones in the back. These were, how to say, rather risqué. There were several nudes of women in various stages of dress. She noticed me looking at them, and I could see her smiling as I scanned the works.

"I like the human form. It is challenging, and I'm still working on it," she said.

"You are good, really good," I said. "Looks like you work in an Impressionist style, and play with light. That must be challenging."

"Yes, a bit. I'm still working on it. And yes, the light is what I am trying to capture. Most people wouldn't see that," she said with a smile. "Don't you think some of them are, well, a bit naughty?"

"No, they are beautiful." I turned to face her and said, "Are these real people?"

She seemed to blush. "No, just my imagination."

I noticed what seemed to be a work in progress on her easel. It was a completely nude woman with what seemed to be blonde hair and a classical-hourglass figure. Then, I also notice the full-length mirror over to the side of the room. I turned to Ann, with a big smile on my face, and said, "I see you have ah, hmm, a good imagination."

She realized I had noticed the mirror and then she turned the sweetest shade of light red. Goodness, she really was a beautiful woman.

"Let me show you the rest of the studio," she quickly said.

There was a nice bedroom, and the best part was the amazing shower. It was twice as big as any I had ever seen. It had one of those rain showerheads as well as a handheld sprayer. And the overhead skylight was something I had only seen in magazines.

"Look, I never use the bedroom and bath, so why don't you bring some of your work clothes and you can keep them here. That way you can change and shower off before you do your workouts. Then, of course, you can rinse off the chlorine after you're finished," Ann said.

"Wow. That is really nice of you. I can't turn down an offer like that," I said, with a big grin.

She smiled. "Here you go," she said, as she handed me some keys. "These are to the back gate and the studio. You'll need them. Just come on in when you get here in the morning. That way you can work, if I am sleeping late or out. How's that?"

"Are you sure? I might steal all your paintings," I joked.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to take that chance," she said with a big grin.

She extended her hand and we closed the deal, so to speak.

The next morning, I gathered all my swim gear, some old work clothes and headed out to work. I used my keys to access the backyard and studio. I was taking Ann at her word, and stashed my junk in the bedroom and changed into some old jeans and a t-shirt. She had pointed out the storage shed the day before, that contained all her yard stuff and I went to check it out. As expected, it was as neat as a pin and had about anything I could think of that might be needed. I had made a list and started out doing some cutting and trimming. The Boxwoods that lined the large fence that surrounded the backyard, which made it very, very private, were my first attack.

As the sun made its way skyward, it began to heat up. As was my way, when I said attack, I attacked. I always had a hard time pacing myself with work or with training. After a couple of hours, I was soaked with sweat and needed a break. Just as I laid down my clippers, I heard one of the sliding doors to the patio open.

"Hey, want some iced tea?" I heard Ann shout.

I waved and yelled, "Yes!"

She was dressed in a cover-up that was over a two-piece, white bikini. And it did little to cover, being very sheer. She looked amazing. And the iced tea looked pretty good, as well.

"You do look like you need a break. You don't need to do all the work in one day, you know," she cheerfully scolded.

We sat down at a little round table on the patio and I gulped down half of the glass. She gave me a large smile.

"I like to get my sun in the mornings most days," she said. "It gets so hot in the afternoon and I find that a great time to work in my studio. I hope it won't bother you. You know, me being out by the pool, sunning and all."

"Oh no. It's fine. You just ignore the crazy guy thrashing around in the hedges." Her smile was getting to me. I wondered if she knew how she affected the male half of the population. I was sure she did, but she wasn't flaunting anything. It seemed she was just being who she was. Just Ann.

"You just take a break and drink some more tea. I'm going over to the pool and making my nest," she said as she got up with a little bag containing her towel and lotions.

I went back to attacking the Boxwood, but kept peeking over to the pool. Ann's bikini was not the bikini of an older lady. It did cover her parts, but barely. Her breasts were not overly big for her body, which were hard to ignore, and seemed to be trying to escape from the confines of the white cloth that contained them. It was difficult not to stare. And her bottom, well, again the suit did cover her private parts, but that was about all it covered. It almost seemed surreal. Here is the young gardener working near the pool as the older divorcee put suntan lotion all over her body while in a skimpy bikini. Damn, I felt like I was in some movie with a Mrs. Robinson.

I continued my work, and even though it was hard not to stare, I did my best. I had been around Ann long enough to know this was not some premeditated tease. This was Ann doing what she had always done. At least, that was the thought I ran with. I hoped she was comfortable with me near, and she was just being Ann.

Then I looked over towards her once more, and she was now on her stomach, and had untied the back of her top so as not to get a tan line. Again, all of her naughty bits were covered, but her bare back and tan, with her small bikini bottoms, was highly erotic. I had to stare. The edges of her small white bikini bottom were bunched up a little, exposing more of her sweet bottom. But normally, one would have seen something of a tan line. There was none. My brain seemed a bit slow because all my blood was going somewhere else, but it dawned on me. She HAD no tan lines. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize she normally tanned naked. This was almost too much, as my hormone-addle brained began to work overtime, and the slight tingle between my legs became much, much more.

I went back to work with a vengeance. After about thirty minutes, I was thinking of taking a break when I heard water splashing in the pool. As I turned, there was Ann wading out and getting herself wet. No doubt she needed to cool off a bit, but as she started walking up the steps from the pool it became apparent that her little white bikini, when wet, was almost transparent.

As she nonchalantly adjusted her top, one point of speculation was put to rest. She had the most amazing, hard, little, brown nipples just begging to be free of her top. And as the rest of her body emerged from the water, her very-wet bottom strip hugged her womanhood, and the cleft between her legs was obvious. Also, there was not a hint of any pubic hair. My imagination was in overdrive. Well, this did it. I was almost as hard as a rock. Again, I went back to attacking the hedge with vigor. Down boy...down boy.

"Hey, Tim!"

I looked up and Ann was coming over to me and thankfully she had her towel wrapped around her.

"I was going to make a bite of lunch. Go wash up a bit and join me."

"Great," I replied. "I would love to join you after I get some of the dirt off." And in my mind, I was thinking it would give me some time to cool off, if you know what I mean.

We sat out on the patio and she had whipped up an amazing lunch. Also, she had changed into a tan, spaghetti-strap top that did little to hide the fact she was not wearing a bra. I had a hard time avoiding her nipples that kept calling out to me. Surely, she must know that they were hard all the time, as they strained against the cotton top. She had on a pair of shorts that showed off the beautifully-tanned legs to great advantage. Her top and little protrusions were like some hypnotist's tool to put me under his spell, or in this case, her spell.

I was pleased at how easy it was to talk with Ann. She wasn't like some employer talking to her gardener, but rather we were just two people having a nice lunch on the patio with a beautiful pool in the background. She amazed me at how she was so natural and apparently honest in what she said. She was also very skilled at getting information from me.