I didn't hear the first, discrete tap on the door. I was too taken up with the view from my balcony. It was an untypical English summer's day. Blue from horizon to horizon and the temperatures well over what we normally enjoy. Spread out before me was a vista of fields and trees. The patchwork of neatly, but randomly divided land, with hedges and the occasional small copse. But my mind was elsewhere today. I could focus on little beyond the low boundary wall of the garden. My attention was on the pool below me. Very common and much-loved in warmer climes it was, for the most part, an unnecessary addition to an English home. Except for fleeting moments such as today.
The girl in the pool was swimming lengths, lazily and without effort. Her image swirled and distorted by the ripples of her passage. Her sleek young body seemed to cut through the water with no effort. I could make out the shimmering of the two black strips of her bikini, trisecting the paleness of her skin. I should be angry as no one had permission to use my pool, but I guessed who she was, so I felt lenient. Plus, I was enjoying the moment too much.
My reverie was spoiled by the sound of the door opening quietly behind me and a soft voice asking, "You called, Sir,"
I shook my head to purge some strangely arousing thoughts and turned towards the voice. Poking her head around the door was Marta, my housekeeper. I beckoned her inside, and she came and stood at my shoulder.
"Can you open a bottle of wine please Marta. But first, who is that?" I asked gesturing to the outside world.
She looked over the balcony edge to where I pointed, leaning forward to get a better view. She suddenly pulled back and her face went pale.
"Oh, Sir, I'm so sorry. I told her to stay in the kitchen but she's so disobedient sometimes."
"Like her mother?" I asked, curling my hand around to stroke the inside of her thigh. "I assume she belongs to you?"
"It's Rosea, my daughter, Sir," she replied, squirming with pleasure under my touch, "I told her to stay out of the way."
"Disobedient children. They are the bane of our lives, are they not. But she is like her mother I can tell," I said with mock admonishment, as I slipped my hand higher on her leg and stroked the silken crotch of her panties. We both stood for some minutes gazing down at the bikini-clad figure gliding through the sun-warmed water of the pool. Finally, I broke the silence.
"Go and open the wine and bring three glasses. And bring her as well, we need to sit and have a talk ... about boundaries and obedience."
She slipped away from my exploring fingers and left the room as I continued to watch the blurry shape going back and forth beneath me. Then it stopped mid-length and went upright, treading water, looking to the side of the pool. With a gentle stroke the girl swam to the side of the pool and, with a dip and a push, made her way onto dry land.
Briefly the blurred figure came into sharp focus. It seemed to me, from my foreshortened perspective that the bikini top existed only for the sake of propriety. It concealed nothing simply because there was so little to conceal. And then she was gone leaving me with my solitary lust-filled thoughts.
Behind me I heard the click as the door opened. I glanced behind me and watched as Marta appeared carrying a tray with a freshly opened bottle of wine and three glasses. I gestured for her to put it on the nearby table. Behind her, lurking in the shadows cast by the bright sunshine came the girl from the pool. She seemed shy and nervous and had wrapped herself in a towel.
"You must be Rosea," I said, "welcome, I've heard a lot about you." I reached to one side and dragged a second recliner next to mine. I patted the soft cushion, "Come, sit here, I'm dying to meet you."
Shyly she approached and, clutching the towel safely around her she perched on the edge of the recliner. I smiled at her and turned to her mother.
"Pour three glasses, Marta, and then come and join us. I assume your daughter is old enough to have a drink."
She nodded in response and there was a twinkle of mischief in her eye. She did as instructed, handing me the first glass, then one to Rosea. Finally, she pulled a third recliner next to mine on the opposite side. She lay back, more relaxed in my company than Rosea who stayed teetering on the edge of her seat, grasping her glass for security.
"Relax, Rosea," I told her, "we're just taking a break from the heat of the day." As I spoke, I deliberately reached across and stroked Marta's thigh again. I let my hand glide down and then up her thigh, pushing higher than the hem of her short skirt. Call me old-fashioned but I like my staff to dress the part. At the moment I only had Marta as a housekeeper and a much older lady as my cook. Marta had made no objection when I showed her the uniform I expected her to wear. In fact, I think she secretly relished the idea. It had started off as a joke when I suggested it, but Marta quickly took to the idea. She even helped me pick out ideas from an online catalogue. When she first tried it on, she paraded up and down, posing lewdly in front of me. That had the desired effect on my libido, and I had flung her onto the bed, and we fucked each other in a frenzy. She got very little work done for the rest of that day.
Show me a man who isn't turned on by a woman dressed in a maid's outfit and I'll show you a man close to death. Marta's outfit was particularly revealing. I'd had it made by a friend adapting designs we had found online. From the start Marta enjoyed the very thought of wearing it while going about her duties. How she felt doing so in front of her daughter I don't know but it didn't seem to worry her. To say the skirt was short would be an understatement. She didn't need to bend over to reveal the minimal panties as they disappeared between the cleft of her arse. The top scooped so low that it displayed and supported rather than covered her tits. The only item that saved her modesty was the tiny apron that just about concealed her nipples. The ensemble was finished off with a pair of five-inch heels. How she ever managed to do any work I don't know but the house was always spotless and tidy. Needless to say, I had been enjoying the attentions of Marta from the beginning of her working for me.
With my hand well up under Marta's short skirt I turned my attention to Rosea. Of course, I knew about Rosea but, until today, had never met her. I looked her up and down and she blushed under my gaze. She held her glass of wine before her like a shield.
"Relax, Rosea," I said, giving her my friendliest smile. "Your mother has told me a lot about you, and I was admiring you in the pool."
I raised my glass and took a long drink and she responded with a nervous sip. My other hand was busy stroking Marta's pussy that had already soaked her panties. She was actually getting turned on by being felt up in front of her daughter. Surely it must have been obvious to Rosea what I was doing with her mother. She looked at the floor, trying to ignore what was happening. I put my glass down on the floor and reached out and touched her naked shoulder, pressing her back so she was forced to lie on the recliner.
"I said relax. Enjoy the sunshine."
I glanced to the other side and winked at Marta who responded with a mischievous grin. Was the cheeky bitch really encouraging me? The stirring of my cock, that I had felt while watching Rosea in the pool, was now increasing. It would have been impossible for either woman to ignore the large bulge in the front of my trousers. I wriggled gently to ease the pressure which only made things worse.
Turning back to Rosea, I commented, "I was admiring you swimming in my pool ... however ..." this last word spoken with a degree of menace, "you did not ask permission first."
