Chapter 4: Our Little Pleasures

The next day Gloria rose early as Juana expected. It was Friday, workout day. Her private trainer would be there in an hour. Gloria liked to have breakfast and stretch first.

"Una toronga para la Señora," Juana chanted as she set the sectioned half-grapefruit in front of her mistress. "Dee toast weel be ready in a mee-nute."

Gloria ate alone. Alvin wasn't due in from Europe until the afternoon. He'd probably stop at the office after that. She was painted into a skin-tight leotard. Her sports bra pressed against the fabric. There were cups built into the leotard, but Gloria needed more support. She wasn't going for fashion; this was serious and it was business. Her looks meant a lot to her and it was harder and harder to keep her shape as the years ticked by. By all accounts, she had done a credible job.

"Pan integral tostado, nada de mantequilla," Juana announced as she set the small plate of whole wheat toast, without butter, on the table. Gloria didn't answer; Juana didn't expect her to. It would be an admission by Gloria that she understood the few simple Spanish words of the morning meal. Juana knew that Gloria understood them, and she used the ploy to force Gloria to enact her charade—or to abandon it. It was guerrilla warfare as an art form.

"¿Mas de café?" Juana asked, but started pouring before receiving an answer. Then, she switched to English. "Weel d'are be anytin' else, Señora Warner."

"No, Juana," Gloria answered. "You can go."

Gloria didn't look up as she dismissed Juana, and the servant shuffled away. Gloria ate and sipped her coffee as she perused the morning paper. There was almost nothing of interest; there seldom was. Gloria checked it everyday just the same. As she spooned the final wedge of grapefruit she glanced at her watch. It was time to go to the mini-gym and stretch before her workout. There was no point in wasting the trainer's time with preliminaries.

"When Raul gets here, let him know I'm already in the mini-gym," she yelled over her shoulder to Juana.

"Si, Señora," Juana called back. She was in the dining room, polishing the furniture.

Before long, a familiar car drew up to the parking lot on the Warner estate. It was older, but appearing in clean and in good shape. Whoever owned it had protected it from telltale dents and crumples, and it had been recently through the carwash. The driver's door opened and a man got out carrying a gym bag.

Raul Sandoval was thirty-three years old. He looked exactly that. He made no pretense to hide his age, not wishing to appear too young for his profession, or too old to be past his prime. Marketing was as important as knowledge in his business.

He had jet black hair, straight and regularly trimmed. He combed it neatly, parted on the side and had a thin moustache that he kept looking just right. He wore a white polo shirt and fitted, white linen trousers. He wasn't very tall, had a wiry musculature and a thin waist. He strode to the house. Juana had seen him drive up and opened the door before he had a chance to ring the bell.

"Buenos dias," he said when she opened the door.

"Dee Señora ees een dee heemnasium," she informed him. She frowned and motioned him inside. Juana never spoke in her native tongue to him. She didn't show him the way; he had been there enough times to be able to find it for himself.

"Good morning, Señora Warner," Raul said as he stepped into the gym. Gloria was sitting on the floor with her legs straightened and spread out. She was leaning forward, grabbing her toes. "Finished stretching?" He had only a trace of an accent, much less than Juana and José.

"Yes, Raul," she answered. "I'm afraid I must weigh a ton this week. We had a big party last Friday night and I had a luncheon on Wednesday."

"Any Margaritas by dee pool?"

"Maybe a few," she answered, blushing with guilt. "I tried not to overdo it."

"Past dee lips an' to dee hips," he scolded in a glib kind of way.

"A few couldn't hurt that much," she pleaded.

"We will see." Raul took Gloria's hand to help her to her feet and escorted her to the scale. "Only a pound and a half over last week," he assured her. "We'll work it off."

Raul had a talent for gently leading his clients through their weekly tortures. It took more than knowledge of rowing machines and belly crunches to be in his business. There was a psychological aspect, too. Gloria was one his longest established and best customers.

Over the next hour Gloria rowed and pumped her stationary bicycle, bent, stretched and crunched. Raul pushed and guided her through all of it. Her face moistened with perspiration; sweat soaked through her leotard. Her skin flushed. The stationary bicycle was the final step in the routine, and the hardest.

"Only two more minutes, Señora Warner," Raul called to her, looking at his stop watch.

"Thank God!" Gloria gasped as she kept on pedaling.

"You should repeat this workout every other day," Raul reminded her. "Don't wait until Friday."

"Sometimes I do," she struggled to exhale the answer.

"Okay—time's up!" Raul called out. Gloria ceased pedaling and slumped over the handle bars. "I think we took care of those few pounds."

Gloria climbed off the bike and staggered to the massage table. Raul took a rolling pin from the equipment cabinet and Gloria hopped onto the table and lay down on her back. Raul began rolling the pin across her thighs. He was pressing down hard, starting with the front of the thighs. After that, he'd have her roll over and he'd do the backs.

"Chu work so hard to take care of your body, Señora Warner. We can't let any cellulite get started. I'm sorry if I have to hurt you a leetle."

"It doesn't hurt," Gloria answered. Her breathing had nearly returned to normal. "It actually feels kind of good."

"You appear un poco tense, today, Señora Warner."

"You have no idea," Gloria sighed. "I have so many things on my mind."

"Perhaps I would be able to be of further service."

"Do you have time for the Deluxe Workout today?" she asked.

"For you, Señora, I will always make the time."

"Then, put down that rolling pin and do what you do best," she breathed.

He put the tool aside and stepped back. She sat up and hopped from the edge of the massage table. Her leotard was wet from sweat; she peeled it from her shoulders, baring her torso, save the sports bra. As Raul watched silently, she reached behind her back and undid the clasp. The undergarment loosened; she held it in place as she watched him watching her.

She took her hands away from her chest, taking the bra with them.

"You like these, don't you," she whispered at him.

She saw Raul's eyes, wide and fixed on her breasts. She didn't have to look down at them to know what he saw. She knew that her nipples were rigid from anticipation; the skin was still flushed and slick from her exercise. They were large by any standard, and by many standards they did well against the tendency to sag brought on by age and size. She used them often, whether to tease the gardeners or display over the top of the bodice of her evening gown at gala affairs. They made men want her.

Without a word, she pushed the leotard down the rest of the way, stepped out of the garment and tossed it aside. There were no panties; the lining of the exercise garment took care of it. She was nude. She glanced down at Raul's crotch, and she found his response that she hoped for. She felt her heart beat faster.

"You want to suck these," she said, lifting her breasts like an offering.

"Yes, Señora," Raul answered. "They are beautiful."

"You shall, Raul, but not just yet."

She stood before him in the nude, knowing that he was staring at her, drinking in the sight of her breasts, her hourglass body, the patch of pubic hair. She hoped that her sex was glistening with her slick moisture—she thought it was. She spread her legs slightly to help any built up wetness ooze out. She knew that Raul wanted to begin undressing himself, but she wouldn't allow him—yet.

She was paying for the time; it would proceed as she would dictate. The orchestrated delay was a part of the pleasure. It pleased her to stand nude in front of him, making him wait. She reveled in his impatient panting; in her control of all that happened.

"Do you want me?" she posed the question to him.

"Oh, yes, Mrs. Warner," Raul replied. He was breathing ever more deeply. "Please let me."

"Strip," she commanded.

Raul kicked off his shoes, peeled off his socks. He took the bottom of his polo shirt and lifted it over his head. His body was lean, as promised by the tight-fitting shirt. Not counting his armpits, it was free of body hair, save a narrow strip that ran from between his nipples past his navel and disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. The black hair stood out on his tawny skin. He unbuckled his belt and unhooked the fastening of his trousers. She stopped him as he began to pull them down.

"Let me," she ordered. She slid down the zipper and then hooked her thumbs under the trousers and his underwear, pulled them out over his erection, and then fell to her knees as she yanked them down. She was face to face with his erection. She stared at it as it bounced up and down impatiently, as she breathed on it. Clear fluid oozed out of the slit.

"You'd like me to suck it, wouldn't you?" she whispered.

The penis bounced a few times at the suggestion.

"I would like it, if you wish, Señora." He was wincing in his struggle to hold back

Gloria reached out and grazed the penis with her hand, ran her fingers up and down its length. She spread the oozing fluid over the crown. Raul groaned. She cupped his scrotum, caressing the velvet skin with practiced fingertips. Raul spread his legs apart to grant access.

"I will suck you," she looked up at him as she spoke. She saw his eyes grow wide. "Someday..."

Raul closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. More droplets appeared and Gloria spread them as before.

"Do you have the condoms?" she asked.

"They are in my satchel, as always."

"Stay there," she ordered, and then rose to her feet and walked the few steps to the gym bag that he always brought with him. She searched for a few seconds and brought out a foil packet. In a moment she was back in front of him on her knees.

"You do want me?" she asked again.

"Yes, yes."

She tore open the foil packet, took the circle of latex out and tossed the empty foil aside. She placed the condom over the head of his penis and slowly rolled the sheath down the shaft. She heard Raul let out a groan.

"Now Raul, don't go losing yourself on me like you did that one time. You still have a lot of work to do."

"Yes, Mrs. Warner, but you make it very hard."

She smirked, said nothing, and rose to her feet. She hopped up on the massage table and lay down on her back, bent up her knees and spread her legs. She planted her feet on the edge of the table.

"First suck on my tits, then eat me," she commanded. "After I come, I'll get off the table and bend over it so you can give it to me good from behind."

Raul performed his tasks well, as always. At the end, when she climaxed for the second time as he pulled her hips against his groin and buried himself deep inside her, she screamed, and then she felt him throb several times. He withdrew right away to make sure the condom didn't slip off.

"I hope no one heard me just then," she said with a sheepish grin. He said nothing, as he dressed. He deposited the used condom in a plastic sandwich bag that he also brought with him in his satchel. He would take it out with him for disposal. There was no sense in leaving evidence about, especially with Juana lurking and cleaning and observing.

Gloria regained her composure. She had put her clammy leotard back on, just to prevent Juana from knowing anything, and over that a terrycloth robe that she kept in the mini-gym.

"I'm so glad you had time for the Deluxe Workout today," she smiled as she said it to him. "I got rid of my pound and a half, and all my tensions." She handed him his fee in hundred dollar bills. Raul nodded his thanks. "Raul, you're the best," she said.

Raul came out of the mini-gym first. Juana eyed him from the dining room as he walked lightly through the house on his way to the car. There was a scowl on her face, but she said nothing, just continued her polishing.

When she was certain he was gone, Gloria emerged in her turn. She was wearing her terrycloth robe, but left it open so that the leotard was visible underneath. She thought about dunking herself in the pool. She could have stripped off the leotard and dove into the cool water naked. It would have suited her, but was out of the question with José working not far away, trimming the hedges. She would have dove in with the leotard on. The thin, stretch fabric would have outlined her body and become nearly transparent after the dunking. It wasn't worth it. José was working alone that morning. If he had a crew of young men working like the day before, she might have indulged herself—or, at least, she told herself that.

She, instead, decided to take a shower and went back into the house. She passed by the staircase that led to the upstairs bedrooms and sought out Juana in the dining room.

"I'm going upstairs to take a shower," she told her, standing in front of the maid long enough to display the sweaty leotard still on under her open robe.

"Weel Señor Alvin arrive home soon?" Juana asked.

"Tonight," Gloria answered, then turned and went upstairs.

When Frank worked through lunch Jeannette ate at her desk. She always kept a cup of yogurt in reserve in the refrigerator in the kitchenette at the rear of the office suite. It was one of those many days it came in handy.

Frank hadn't deliberately set out to ruin the lunch hour. Frank spent most of the morning on the phone with the auditors and the lawyers wrapping up the details on the shelving of the SEC offering registration. That was done for the time being. After that he dove into the quest for the interim financing for the R&D expansion. In his Central Time office, the noon hour was too valuable to waste. He could catch the New York guys before they went to lunch and the West coast bankers as they were starting their days. At half past the hour he remembered his nearly forgotten secretary.