SSMM Ch5

Just because the clothes are still on, that doesn’t mean that this isn’t intimacy. These two don’t want to be watched.

“Yeah. Let’s go,” Ava says, and Cristy nods. They move on, but there’s no sign of anyone else. Two treadmills sit in front of a floor-to-ceiling window that gives a lovely view of the garden out back.

From here, Ava can see a spectacular balcony on the other side of the house. That must be Vivien’s.

“She must still be in her room,” Cristy says with a yawn. She leans on a treadmill and checks her phone. Ava does the same. More weather warnings and not much else. Cristy glances up, and Ava sees everything she needs to. She can read Cristy’s mind.

There’s amusement, but also a little envy. That Pilates instructor had been handling that blonde with such an affectionate tenderness that it’s hard not to be jealous. Nobody’s ever shown anything like that to Ava, and it looks like Cristy’s feeling the same way. Whoever the blonde is, she’s a lucky girl. The instructor is pretty, but that doesn’t even matter. There is nothing that’s more of a turn-on than that kind of heartfelt affection. Are those two with FUTA? Annette would probably know.

“Guess I’ll track her down,” Cristy says, stretching. She’s referring to Karina. “Good luck with Annette.”

“Thanks. See you around,” Ava replies, keeping it cool.

Cristy pauses by the door. “I like your outfit,” she says, then goes.

Blushing, Ava takes a moment to gather herself. It’s nobody’s fault. Walking in on something like that would stir up anyone. Ava bites her lip. She came here to work, but it’s really feeling like she might get laid this weekend. She shakes her head, takes a breath, and ventures out.

In the foyer, she finds Jane, the maid, struggling with her arms full. She’s lugging something like a huge suitcase in one hand, and in the other she has a sort of tote and some towels… it’s a lot of stuff.

“Whoa,” Ava says, darting forward. Jane isn’t clumsy; indeed, she seems irksomely graceful and competent, but it’s just too much stuff to be carrying up some stairs. Ava catches the stack of towels and places her hand on Jane’s lower back, in case she was about to overbalance and fall. “You good?”

“Thank you,” Jane says. “You can just put it back on there.”

“I got it. Where we going?”

“No, really. You don’t want to.”

“I’m helping. Maid solidarity.” Ava truly isn’t sure if she’d have done this if she hadn’t just witnessed what she had. It’s like the old CCL girl is waking up. A second ago it was Cristy, and now she’s trying to act cool for Jane. Why not, though?

“Your funeral.”

“Hey, downstairs I saw this blonde and another pretty lady. Do you know who they are?”

“Oh, that’s Aubrey and Kia. Aubrey is Vivien’s wife, and Kia works here like I do.”

“Oh,” Ava says, suddenly anxious. She’s glad that she didn’t mention what she’d seen. Kia and Aubrey hadn’t been doing anything as obvious as making out, but… there is no ambiguity. “Jeez.” She follows Jane across the big landing. They’re going into Vivien’s part of the house.

As expected, it’s roomy and beautiful, decorated in the same style as everything else.

They put the stuff down in a sort of sitting room. Jane kneels and removes the black bag from her giant suitcase, revealing a folding massage table, which she sets up quite professionally. So professionally that Ava just stands there and watches, a little envious. Jane just oozes competence in a way that Ava’s not used to seeing.

“Hi there,” says a low, slightly husky, intensely sultry voice.

Ava turns, startled. Vivien Corbin stands in the doorway, leaning with her arms folded. She wears a clingy, shimmery robe that emphasizes her bountiful curves. She’s got to be pushing fifty, but there’s some Hollywood magic at work and she looks at least ten years younger. She’s as beautiful in person as she is onscreen, and her dark, wavy hair is styled to perfection, giving her the appearance of a femme fatale from an old-timey noir.

She gazes at Ava with a relaxed blend of curiosity, approval, and hunger.

“Hi,” Ava replies, suddenly nervous. “Sorry to intrude. I was just trying to help carry stuff.” It’s simple enough to read between the lines. It looks like Jane’s about to give Vivien a massage. “I’m here with Annette. FUTA stuff. I’ll get out of your way.”

“No, no. Please stay,” Vivien says, so relaxed and confident, yet so aggressive with her eye contact. “I need to catch up on… FUTA stuff,” she says with a little smile. “Let’s chat. There’s room up here for two,” she adds, walking over to the table and laying one smooth, perfect hand on it.

Jane flicks Ava a glance as though to remind her that she did warn her.

Should Ava stay?

Or politely excuse herself?