Call the pool boy and the maid.

"What strikes your fancy for mood music?" you ask. "Or would you prefer a little home video to get us in the mood?"

Your husband laughs. "Or you could start with the pool boy, and I'll jump in when I'm ready," he says.

"Naughty, naughty!" you say. "I think I'll do just that!" You look out the window and down three levels to the lowest terrace with the pool. Oakley, the young man who takes care of your pool and grounds day to day, seems to be finishing up with cleaning.

You dial the pool on the house intercom. After half a ring, he answers "Oakley!" He always sounds so eager.

"Oakley," you say, "Mr. Strong and I are up for a light after-lunch exercise routine. Would you be available as a spotter?"

"Yes, ma'am! In the exercise room?"

"No, just come up to Mr. Strong's office with a few towels," you say.

"I see, ma'am. I'll be right up!" he says, and disconnects.

You dial the maid's cordless intercom number. "Nanda," you say. "would you please bring the gold bag from my dressing table? I'm in the office with Mr. Strong."

"Yes'm!" Nanda replies. She giggles knowingly about the designer purse you think of as your "little black bag". "That's awesome, I mean I'm downstairs but I'll have it for you, like, right away." Nanda was a gem, game for anything, though her unbreakable giggling habit and her Valley Girl speech kept her away from anything formal. "Anything else?" she asks.

"That's all I need you to bring," you say. "Though if you want to help Oakley spotting our little after-lunch exercise, that's up to you."

"I'll be totally right there!" she says, "Ma'am." and hangs up.

"Bringing in all the troops and supplies, I see." says your husband. He packs the lunch things back into the picnic basket you've brought to his writing office. "I'm flattered you're making such a production of a little afternoon quickie with your husband."

You laugh. "You're the flatterer," you say.

"Should we go ahead, or did you want to wait for your appetiser to arrive?" he asks. "Do you think you can get me hard by the time Oakley shows up?" He reaches for his belt buckle. "We can pretend it's like our first time," he says.

Your first time together, years ago, was an awkward but exciting little romp. You had met during try-outs of a movie shot from his first screenplay. Kneeling under his desk, you sucked his cock for half an hour, through a couple of important phone calls, while you listened and stroked your pussy. Within a year, you were married, rising in the business, and pregnant with Alex -- but not in that order. The first Mrs. Strong put up quite a struggle during the divorce trial.

"I didn't know you were such a romantic," you say. You'd be happy to get him started, but you like the idea of him getting aroused just from watching you and Oakley until he couldn't hold back any longer.