Julia looks divine in a beautiful white bathing suit. It is a one piece, but the center is cut out, so I can still see all of her beautiful curves. I’ve had the pool heated to ninety-seven degrees so that it is plenty warm enough, even though the spring air is a little cool. While the pool is large, we choose to stay in one area where it is only about five feet deep, sitting on a ledge I had built into the design for just this purpose. The waterfalls are on and add to the ambience of paradise. They cascade over carved rock, making a slight splash as they enter the pool. Julia watches them, smiling, likely remembering the natural waterfall we saw the day before. She smells of coconuts and vanilla, and I want to kiss her, to take her here in the pool, but I don’t think she will like that, even though I could assure her of our privacy. The servants wouldn’t dare snoop or try to watch us. I keep myself in check, though, only holding her hand beneath the water’s surface, letting her come t

It is my last night with Julia. That’s all I can think about. After we made love in the hot tub, we went inside, showered, got dressed, and ate dinner. We chatted about normal things--our pasts, likes and dislikes, the sort of things that drive conversation. Then, she went into the art room to paint some more while I sat and watched. All I could think about was how I wanted to untie the dress she wore, a bow at her neck the only thing keeping my hands from the soft mounds of her breasts. I didn’t do it, though, not while she was working. I watched her instead, watched how her mind moved her brush across the canvas, each stroke an ingenious work of art. It amazes me to see true talent at work, regardless of the medium, and when it comes to Julia and her painting, it is clear to me that she is remarkably talented and deserves the opportunity to explore what might be with a few lessons and the chance to show her work to the world.She’ll never get that with Jeff. Not only does he not hav

I wake up with Julia in my arms. I haven’t been asleep long at all. After I made love to her most of the night, I finally fell asleep with her resting her beautiful head on my chest, my arms wrapped tightly around her in a protective arch. She is still asleep, which is just as well. I don’t have to get up to get ready for work for another hour, and she doesn’t have to get up until she is ready to. I will have my driver take her home later, if that is what she wishes. As I gaze at her lovely face, I wish that I could find the words to change her mind, to convince her to stay here with me, to leave Jeff and all that she knows of her married life behind.She doesn’t seem to think that is an option, though, for reasons I can’t quite understand. I wish that she would explain to me what it is that is keeping her from telling Jeff off and leaving his ass behind. He doesn’t deserve her! Surely, she can see that now, can’t she?I don’t know what Julia thinks of herself at this point, but I hop

I sit in my office, staring out the window at everyone else who is working, while I do nothing. For a very long time. Normally, by 10:00, I have already done more work than most people will do all day long. But not today. Today, I can’t help but think about Julia, how she has arrived back in the apartment she lives in with Jeff. And Jeff himself--sitting over there in his office, right across from mine, where I can see him.He looks… bothered. He doesn’t look like his old cocky self. He certainly isn’t staring at his phone, the way he does most days. Instead, he is staring at his computer. But not in that excited way he does when he is watching pornography at work. Instead, he is staring at his computer blankly, the same way that I am staring at him. If he has noticed me staring at him, he hasn’t given me any indication of such. He simply sits there, a disheartened look on his face,I want to speak to him. I will speak to him. It’s difficult to get my thoughts together because I want

I have changed into one of my usual outfits, not one of the designer outfits that Braxton purchased for me, but the sort of thing I would normally wear on a Monday. I spend hours cleaning up the apartment. It is amazing to me how messy one person can be over the course of just a few days, but it seems clear that Jeff spent most of the weekend in the apartment, angry. He was making messes just so that I would have to clean them up.As I carry a load of laundry down to the laundry room, I think about how nice it would be to live in a house like Braxton’s where, not only is there a laundry room on the main floor and the second floor where all of the bedrooms are, there are servants to do this sort of thing for me. At Braxton’s home, I wouldn’t have to lift a finger. All I’d have to do is ask if I needed something specific cleaned, or simply drop the clothing into a hamper, and it would be magically returned to me, probably the same day. Something told me, even if I was careless and rude