Michaelishious - Vol. 2020

Dec. 9th: Poolboy

It was summer and I'd taken a job as a poolboy. Life was a lot easier now that I finally got my driver's license earlier this year, and I traveled around in the district helping people with random things that had to do with gardening. But since I wasn't a real gardener, my job was mostly to clean people's swimming pools and mowing lawns.

It was an okay job for the most part. People were nice and the weather was good, although there were a couple of houses where the owner was a pain in the ass. But I guess that's just how it is. Some people never gets satisfied.

I parked in the driveway to a huge villa, as far down on the sidewalk as I could. Not because there wasn't enough room, because it could easily take seven cars, if not more. No, it was the owner, Mr. Moore. He was in the middle of his fifties and the grumpiest man I'd ever come across, including my father on a bad day. He'd told me that my Toyota Prius was a shame to his property, and that he preferred that I didn't park there at all. But his wife defended me, and gave me my own spot on the sidewalk. That way I could easily get away if the got one of his ridiculous tantrums, anyway.

His wife...

Mrs. Moore was the complete opposite of her husband. Then again, not many people were as moody and rude as her husband, so why she married him was beyond me.

She was a gorgeous woman with platinum blonde hair, that always had the softest curls flowing over her shoulders. They were on the wealthy side of the population, undoubtedly. She was always wearing all kinds of expensive rings, bracelets and necklaces, as long as she didn't sunbathe. I guessed it was because she wanted an even tan, but I'm a man. What would I know? I didn't really like the sun that much.

What I didn't mind though, was stealing glances at Mrs. Moore as often as I could. She was surprisingly fit to be in her forties, with a slim waist and an impressive rack. But except for her two attributes, I think that was the only surgery she'd had.

I had just started carrying out the equipment from their garden shed when I saw her resting on her regular deck chair. She was wearing large sunglasses and flaming red lipstick, while she read one of her magazines. Nothing out of the ordinary. Only, today I noticed that she wasn't focusing on her magazine.

Feeling nervous, I fumbled with the water hose when I attached it to the pool cleaner. And when I tried to fill up the tank with chemicals, I huffed in embarrassment. Why was it suddenly difficult to do it without making a mess?

"Are you alright?" I heard behind me, and I froze in my actions. My Adam's apple bobbed up and down when I tried to swallow what appeared to be nothing, because my tongue was stuck in the roof of my mouth.

"You seem a little tense this morning."

Really? I mean, I wasn't a few minutes ago, but now...?

"I-I just..." I stuttered and flushed beet red when she giggled.

"Am I making you nervous, sweetie?"

"Uhm... Uh, no."

Nice save. That would convince her. Not.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen, ma'am," I answered coyly, proud that I finally found my vocabulary.

"Nineteen," she reiterated thoughtfully. Then she pulled down her shades so I could see her eyes for a brief moment, and I almost got a heart attack. I'd seen her eyes several times before, and as always her makeup was flawless. But today her electric blue eyes were sparkling with something I'd never seen before. I actually had to bite my lip to contain a groan.