The chord rang out, the cymbals crashed and the crescendo began. I lifted up my guitar, and gave the sign, bringing the neck down swiftly to end the song. The crowd went wild.
The Black Cat Roadhouse is not always packed like this in July, but we'd been playing weekends since the beginning of the summer and our reputation for being a good dance band was beginning to bring in some wild and boisterous crowds, especially on Saturday nights.
Andy leaned into the mike and told the crowd we'd be taking a short break and not to go anywhere. Given the crowd tonight the second set should be a real barn-burner. We made our way to the bar to obtain some well-deserved libations. A beer was going to taste pretty damn good right now. Andy sidled up to the bar next to me.
"So what does Stowe's favorite carpenter have in store for this week?" he queried.
Northern Vermont was not the best spot on earth to make a living solely playing music, so everyone in the band had odd jobs to make ends meet. Andy worked for a graphics firm in Burlington; the other guys had various day gigs of one sort or another. I'd been able to cob together a nice little business as a high-end handyman. My finish carpentry skills were always in demand and I'd had no trouble piecing together a nice string of jobs over the summer. Not bad for a twenty year old musician, I thought.
"Well, I'm going up to see a new customer tomorrow -- guy named Chambers -- apparently a big-time Boston lawyer who has a place up here. Guess he's got some kind of fancy pool house that needs some upgrading. Actually I think I'm meeting with his wife."
Andy looked at me with bemusement.
"Well if it's the guy that lives up off Week's Hill, he's loaded. He's an older guy, but has a much younger wife. French-Canadian, I think. And she, my friend, is a stone cold fox. I've seen her walking around town with her kid. Looks like you're in for a treat."
"Hey, whatever it takes to make ends meet. This rock and roll life is killing me," I laughed.
We clinked beer bottles and after sucking down our beverages headed back to the stage for the second set.
I'd scheduled our meeting for early afternoon and had no trouble finding my way up to the Chambers place. As Andy had predicted their spread was really nice and hidden off the road. The driveway wound around a pond and up a hill to an exposed view looking west. Mount Mansfield stole the show and dominated the view. The house was an old farmhouse that had obviously been well-cared for over the years and numerous tasteful additions further contributed to its charm.
I found my way up the stone steps to the front door and knocked. Not hearing a response I decided to head around back. A stone path weaved through a well manicured lawn and garden to the rear of the house. As I approached I could see a swimming pool with a pool house and pergola. There was someone swimming in the pool, cutting a very graceful stroke through the calm turquoise water. I approached slowly and called out, not wanting to scare anyone. The swimmer, a woman I could now see, arrived at the end of the pool and saw me looming above. She stood up dripping and wrung her hair as she looked at me.
"You must be Jeremy." I immediately detected a French accent, but one that had been smothered by years living in the States. Still, it was evocative and very sexy.
"Yes, Ma'am. And you must be Mrs. Chambers," I deduced.
"Samantha, please," she said as she climbed the steps out of the pool. She held out her slender hand and gave me a steely handshake.
"Sorry I didn't hear you arrive. Come on over and sit down so we can talk."
Even dripping wet I could see that this was a very beautiful woman. She stood maybe 5'-4" and had a very slender tight physique. She was wearing a very tasteful bikini which did little to hide her exquisite body. Her breasts, while not large, were very well proportioned to her body and I could detect her nipples protruding slightly through the wet fabric of her bikini top.
She looked to be in her early to mid thirties, but her body had obviously been very well cared for. Her skin was a golden bronze from spending time in the summer sun and her chestnut hair was long and full, though still wet. She had a tiny waist that flared out to womanly hips; evidence of a work-out regimen that must have included more than just swimming. Her long smooth legs were slender, but very well shaped.
But it was her ass that really caught my attention. As I followed her to the seating area off to the side of the pool, I watched her butt swing as she walked. Her ass was tiny, but very round, and her whole bottom twitched provocatively as she moved. The tiny bikini bottom really showcased her assets, but she had a body that would look good in anything. A small tattoo on her lower back was peeking out from the bottom of her suit. I wondered what those sweet little cheeks would feel like cupped in the palm of my hands.
She reached the seating area, grabbed a towel and began to dry herself. She waved her arm toward a chair and I sat down as directed. After patting herself dry, she put her wet hair up with a tie, exposing her long and very delicate neck. Then she sat down on a chaise across from me, swung her legs up and leaned back. Andy had been right in his assessment: she was a fox.
She gave me a little history about the property and some background on her marriage. She and Jason, her husband, had been married for seven years and they had a five year old daughter, Jolie, who was off with her nanny. While they lived in Boston most of the year, she and Jolie spent the summers here in Stowe, Jason joining them when he could. She began to ask questions about my work and described the project she and her husband had in mind.
"Jason is only here on the weekends, so you are going to have to deal with me during the week," she stated with a steady stare.
"I think I can handle that," I grinned.
There was a subtle level of visual flirting going on that was unmistakable. I couldn't yet tell if I was misreading the signals, but she seemed to be checking me out at the same time I was taking in her curves.
I continued to admire her body and survey every little nuance as she spoke. I would never get tired of looking at a woman as beautiful as this. I politely listened to her and answered her questions as she asked them, trying to maintain eye contact. But as I got comfortable I couldn't help but let my eyes wander south.
The bikini she was wearing was quite small and made of a material that hugged the curves of her body, especially in its wet condition. The top was simply a string running around her torso with two triangles of fabric that tied up behind her neck. Her nipples must always be hard, I thought to myself. But it was the bottom that I couldn't tear my eyes from.
Her stomach was flat and taut. She had a small silver loop pierced through her belly button. Her smooth stomach extended south until it disappeared under the front of her tiny bikini bottom. Rising in a slow round bulge was her pussy mound, protruding up under the material of her suit and making its presence known. It continued down in a nice curved ridge until separating just slightly at her lips. The wet material clung lovingly to her contour and had tucked itself neatly into the crease of her pussy. As her lips came together her mound dove down tightly before meeting her upper thighs and forming a compact apex of skin and fabric.
Try as I might I could not stop looking at her mound. It was so beautiful. She had to be completely shaved to have such a sleek smooth look in such a revealing suit. I'd look her in the eyes as we spoke, but whenever she'd look away for a minute, I'd glance back down at her pussy, before redirecting my gaze back to her eyes, hoping she didn't notice my visual transgressions. I just wanted to cup her in my palm and feel the soft roundness of her puffy lips through her bikini bottom. Suddenly she said something sharply that woke me out of my erotic stupor.
"Jeremy, what are you looking at?"
Her direct question caught me off guard and made me realize how transparent my thoughts were. I was embarrassed.
"Well, I, uh...I was, uh...I was just...."
