August Amenities
Joanne Faries
“C’mon, darlin’.  Kick off your heels. Shed that purple top of yours, and let me see what you’ve been advertising besides property. Shake that fine ass out of that tight skirt. This here pool is like a spa. Hell, August in Texas creates a cauldron of chlorine.  Plunge in baby,” said Jake Ruskin as he bounced on the diving board, his words like hiccups as they carried through the night. He knifed cleanly into the water, then his figure blurred as he swam past the pool lights and back into the shallow end.  

He broke the surface and grinned. “Sugar, you are not going to melt in here. I’ll keep you afloat.” He flexed a skinny bicep. “Arms around each other – hold on like you’re riding bareback.  Your legs circle my hips. Dig in your heels like you did as a purdy young’un riding your show pony. Or were you a barrel racer? Lean this way and that in tune with your ride. Be my ride.”  

Tania now stood on the second step with her hands on her blouse ready to unveil. He paused, his voice growled. “Or fixin’ to do some bronco bustin’ sweetheart.”  

She pulled her top over her head, her breasts bouncing, pendulous. Jake took a quick intake of breath and moved toward her. “Oh honey.”  

Tania arced past him and dove under water, her legs kicking as she swam to the deep end, settling into the swim out. Her head above the surface, she tilted it to shake water from her ears. Her laugh, pitched high, and she gurgled, “Marco.”  

“Polo. C’mere, Tania. I’ve got something to show you.”  

“We agreed, Jake. No tomfoolery, no snake roundup.  Just a quick swim on a hot August night. This is serious. We sell real estate and we should not be here. I am breaking every client code possible including trust. “  

“But we are here, testing amenities. Hell, we aren’t in their king size bed or oversized tub. I don’t have you hoisted up on that shiny kitchen marble countertop.  You are not grabbing on to a table runner in the dining room as I take measurements.  I bet they have a media room and we could be making a western.” Out of the pool, ass gleaming in the moonlight, Jake strolled to a striped lounge chair.  

“Lower your voice.”  

He whispered loudly. “Over here. I’ve got a towel. We’ll dry each other off.”  

She arose, lowered herself to him, as he enfolded her in his embrace.  

He shuddered, “Next Friday. Two story Tudor with a balcony.”  

“Guest house?” She shifted.  

“Dang,” Jake moaned, “Uh-huh. And hot tub.”  

Tania groaned, “Damn, I wanted that property listing.”



First published: August 2016
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