You join her in the pool.

The invitation couldn't be clearer, but you feel strangely shy as you slowly rise out of the steaming hot tub.

Your rock-hard erection looks almost comical, creating a ridiculous tent in your straining underpants. You step, dripping, onto the deck between the hot tub and the pool, feeling even more naked than if you were actually naked. Samantha's eyes go wide, and her mouth opens in a cute "o" shape as she stares openly at the spire in your undies. "Wh … what?!" she exclaims. "Hold on just a second!"

You freeze, taking her words as a command. "What?" you ask quietly.

"I thought you were embarrassed because maybe you weren't so 'gifted' down there," she laughs. "Emma is a lucky woman," she mutters to herself.

"No," you admit. "I'm embarrassed because I've let myself become aroused at the sight of a coworker in her, let's face it, incredibly sexy underwear." You're half joking, half serious when you continue. "It's unprofessional. I apologize."

Samantha's brown eyes move from you crotch to your face and back again. "We're too far gone for apologies now, Mr. Madison," she responds, her voice barely above a whisper. "How about this: I promise not to tell H.R. at Google if you dive in here with me now." Her pale white cheeks blaze bright red.

Though part of you is excited by her gaze on your body, you're equally intrigued by what might come next. In two bounds, you make it to the edge of the pool and dive in sloppily. The water is cold and invigorating. You come to the surface, sucking in a lungful of cool air, to see Samantha's face inches from yours. Her wet dark brown hair is slicked back from her perfect face, and her eyes are dancing with electricity as they look into yours.

"That was a shitty dive," she says, deadpan.

"The key to a smooth dive is to enter the water in a perfect pike, with as little surface area striking the water as possible," you respond, just as deadpan. "Unfortunately for me, a thoughtless temptress has inflicted me with an unmanageable addition to my normal, sleek, pike profile."

She guffaws, a loud and surprisingly goofy laugh that doesn't match her beautiful appearance, but perfectly fits her personality. "You're ridiculous," she laughs, swimming even closer to you, your dog-paddling bodies almost touching.

"We both are," you retort.

"Yeah, ridiculous and cold."

You shake your head in mock disgust. "First you're too hot. Then you're too cold. Is there any pleasing you?"

"Maybe," she responds. Her voice is husky and unsure. "You could warm me up."

You think about a clever reply, then realize that the time for clever repartee has ended. Without a word, you take her left hand in your right and paddle a few feet down the pool until you reach a depth where you can comfortably stand. Now standing, you pull her toward you and wrap your left arm around her skinny waist. Her skin is slick and cool. No longer able to swim, she wraps her right arm around your neck, pulling herself even closer until her tiny tits, straining in her gauzy bra, are pressed against your chest. You feel her legs wrap around your hips, and her perfect ass settles lightly onto your cock, only two thin layers of fabric between them.

Your faces are so close you can feel her breath on your cheeks. Your eyes drill into each other, seeing possibility there you never dared dream of. Your lips are two inches apart, and you peripherally notice her lick hers. Your entire body is screaming to kiss her, enter her, be one with her. Yet a tiny voice of reason sounds a maddening alarm deep in your conscience, and you know you must heed it. You inhale deeply, breathing her in, then lean in until your lips lightly tickle her left ear, and whisper, "We're going to get out of the pool. Dry off. Go back to our rooms. Go to sleep. Finish our business trip. And then head back to Google pretending none of this ever happened." You lean back and look her in the eyes, surprisingly feeling a tear escape your own. "Jimmy never needs to know. Emma never needs to know. Google definitely never needs to know." You feel her heart beating fast against your chest. "You know that's what we should do."

She nods. "I know."

A grim smile crosses your face. You know this is the right thing, but you mourn what could have been, whatever the repercussions.

"But … fuck it," Samantha says, her voice louder, her eyes maniacal. Suddenly her lips are on yours, soft and velvety. Before you can react, her tongue slides between your lips. Without thought, your tongue engages hers, probing into her mouth and dancing. She tastes like wine and peaches and something undefinable. Your arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her ever closer to your body until every inch of her, from her breasts to her crotch, is in contact with you.

She pulls her mouth away to catch her breath, and for a moment you gaze from her eyes to her tits, pressed against you in a way that pushes them up and out, creating the most delectable pale white cleavage you've ever seen. She leans in and kisses your temple hungrily, then your jawline, then your neck. Being kissed has never seemed so sexual, and you groan as your cock twitches beneath her shapely ass.

Her lips pull away from your neck and she gazes at you, suddenly carefree and primal. She presses her lips against yours again, and as your tongues find each other, she shifts her hips just so, and suddenly it is her crotch, and not her ass, that presses against your stiff cock. As your tongues intertwine, she slowly rocks her hips, rubbing her panty-clad pussy down the length of your underwear covered dick. Back and forth, slowly, in time with the movement of your tongues, her mound glides over you. You feel her wiggle left then right subtly, and imagine her pussy lips parting to enwrap the top of your shaft as she rubs herself back and forth on you. You know you're supposed to close your eyes while kissing, but you open yours to see her and find her staring at you. You feel completely together—your tongues connected, your eyes connected, and your genitals grinding together, tantalizingly separated by mere millimeters.

At that moment, a barking laugh from the entrance to the pool interrupts the magic. You tear your mouths away from each other and freeze as you look to see an older couple, maybe in their 70s, entering the pool area. She is already wearing a swim cap and has a polka-dot one piece bathing suit on. The man, bent and bald but covered with fuzzy white body hair, is wearing floppy teal swim-trunks that look too big for him. They're engaged in conversation, but then notice the two of you.

"Don't mind us, you lovebirds," the smiling woman shouts in a gravely voice. "We're just gonna swim our evening laps."

You and Samantha struggle to contain your laughter, feeling suddenly like naughty schoolchildren caught playing doctor. "Oh shit," you mutter. "What do we do?"

"Oh, we're not done. Not by a long shot," Samantha purrs. "Where are we going to take this?"