Harem

... They could see Jason's limo as they approached Ami's Condo. "I'm going to check on Aaron, shower and change. You're welcome to come up and do the same. I don't think you have a shower in that limo."

... "No, I've never seen one with a shower. I've seen ones with hot tubs but I didn't get one."

... "Well that means you have something to work up to."

... Jason gave her a strange look. (Work up to? Jason didn't work up to anything.) But he forgave her and followed her up the stairs.

... Aaron was about thirty. He was wheelchair bound, with limited use of his arms. He was recovering from his third attack of M.S. His speech was still slightly slurred. "Aaron, you remember Jason."

... "Sure."

... "Hello Aaron, anything good on the tube to day?"

... "Nothing! One hundred fifty channels of garbage. But it beats working."

... "You boys can talk, I'm going to take a shower." Ami disappeared down the hall. ("Talk?" That could take a while.)

... A short time later, Jason heard a peremptory cough. He looked up and just saw a delicate index finger beckoning him. Aaron saw it too. He smiled at Jason and nodded for him to go after it. Jason walked down the hall and disappeared into the bathroom.

... Before they could leave Ami had to make sure Aaron had everything he could possible need. (She checked his levels and changed his fluids too. Jason flashed on winterizing a car and had to cough to cover a laugh.)

... The restaurant looked out over the sea. More then that it was out over the sea. Everything was perfect, not a bad seat in the house. Jason believed in the old saying that laughter was as good an aphrodisiac as oysters, so he kept Ami amused. He didn't skimp on the oysters or wine either.

... Sometime later Ami found herself in Jason's secluded private garden. His house was done in the old style, designed before air conditioning. (Though Ami could hear the persistent hum of those too.) The outside was made of stone, marble, granite, stucco in this case- and was basically a big square, but the square was hollow. The center held a garden open to the sky. Breezes drifted through the structure, night and day.

... Jason of course had added swimming pools to the garden. The moonlight was reflected off a narrow lap pool, nestled between the palm trees. It looked like a moon lit river in paradise.

... "Wow, this is beautiful. I'd love to go swimming in the moonlight."

... "Go ahead."

... Do you have another swim suit stuffed in your breast pocket? She didn't really ask, she knew what he had in mind. She had a similar goal in mind too. She was glad to see that the shower hadn't dampened his ardor. For now she just gave him a "you're cute" smile and slowly walked around the pool.

... It was very private and quiet in the garden. Yet of course it wasn't either. A house this large must have live in servants (the chauffeur if no one else). Each with a room that looked down upon the garden. As for sounds, there were the air conditioners, such a pervasive sound in South Florida that she rarely even heard them anymore. The breeze brought distant car and boat sounds. But somewhere in the garden there was a fountain and the gentle sound of the water virtually nullified everything else.

... She would love to go to sleep to that sound. (Hold on there Ame's, getting a little ahead of ourselves aren't we?)

... Well, she had made her circuit of the lap pool, what would she do now? She casually found a moon beam and removed her dress. Now she wished she'd waited and that now, in the moonlight, was the first time he saw her bare breasts, not that they were that great but that it was that perfectly romantic.

... Aurgh, she'd forgotten to bring a condom. She hoped he had them, asking now would definitely spoil the mood. (She used to be on the pill but she hadn't been dating in so long ... )

... She kept her thong on, (she hadn't worn one of those in a long time either). It all but came off when she dove in. Perfect execution she was pleased to say. She was near one end so she did the crawl to the other end. It was the back stroke next, she hoped the light played over her in a flattering way.

... Then it was the side stroke (or scissors) to the far end again. And then what? The breast stroke? Very unflattering and she'd never seen why it was called the "breast" stroke, unless it was because they caused the drag. She'd seen a Tarzan film once (over the last three years she'd seen entirely too much TV) where Boy, Jane and Tarzan had performed synchronized swimming to a combination back stroke and crawl. It had looked wonderful. She tried it: down with the right arm, roll, back with the left, roll. She had it!

... Then before she realized he was there his hands were on her head. She came to her feet. She was at the far end and hadn't realized it. He'd kept her from striking her head against the end, how nice!

... He reached down and lifted her right out of the pool (there went her thong) to stand beside him. He handed her a lovely fluffy white towel (Where had that come from?). He lead her towards the house. She left her dress behind without a thought.