5 #AfternoonSwim

The warm water caressed Teddi’s skin like a familiar lover, because it was.  Five days out of every week, she submerged herself into the climate-controlled pool for either a hundred laps or thirty minutes of water aerobics.  The constant temperature soothed her at the same time it heightened awareness, touching her with an intimacy she’d been reduced to paying for in recent years.

Sometimes she didn’t notice the eroticism of it.  Other days – like today, when she was still enamored with memories of Jon Bon Jovi’s unpaid touch – her workout was foreplay. 

She envisioned that each slice of her arm through the pool’s pristine surface was the stroke of a heated palm over her arm.  That each wave gliding along her inner thigh was the contact of a man on a sinful mission.  Liquid friction mercilessly teased the crotch of her swimsuit, doing nothing to douse the fantasies of being a rock star’s favorite dessert.

After this lap, she would escape to the boudoir and allow one of her favorite toys to release the sweet tension.  Or perhaps the shower head attachment in the tub this time.  Water was partly responsible for the throb at her core, so it seemed only proper for water to solve the problem.  She could sink in up to her chin, position a heel on each edge of the sunken tub and aim the forceful spray….

Teddi’s head broke the surface with a gasp as she reached the finish line of her workout.  With arms folded atop the indoor pool's edge, she inhaled breath after breath while berating her libido.   

She’d long ago come to terms with having an overactive sex drive, but this was getting out of hand even for her.  The fixation she had developed was absurd. 

Her encounter with Jon Bon Jovi had been a mundane photo opportunity sprinkled with a few meaningless platitudes.  That’s all.  He was obviously skilled in making such encounters memorable, but there was nothing truly extraordinary about that two minutes they spent together – or even his final parting “happy birthday” to their table.

It might be different if he’d stuck a hand down her pants or even tongued her ear to incite this crazy blast of hormones.  All he’d done was breathe on her while making an innocent comment about her shampoo.  Period.  While that deserved a tingle of excitement, it certainly didn’t warrant the six self-induced orgasms she’d enjoyed over the last forty-eight hours. 

Although, when factoring in the photos, autograph and recurring dreams….

So, I’ll stop at seven orgasms.  Or eight.  Definitely before I hit double-digits.

Decision made, she swam purposefully to the wide stairs and rose from the water.  

The last time she’d been this obsessed was during her senior year of college.  Social anxiety hadn’t been as prevalent at that age, and the opportunity for a one-night stand had presented itself.   She’d followed her baser instincts and indulged in a mindless tangle of limbs that haunted her well beyond that night.    

The only limb she’d tangled with Jon Bon Jovi last night was an arm cloaked in cashmere.  Hardly fantasy material. 

Teddi picked up a towel from the chaise, confident that this latest obsession would fade soon.  That's what happened last time, but her skin’s reaction to the lush scrape of terrycloth argued differently.

That ancient one-night stand might’ve involved more physical contact, but it hadn’t come with photographic mementos of a gorgeous rock star – one of which was framed on the boudoir wall along with his autograph.  That one wasn’t the one that was proving to be the distraction, however.  It was the one prominently featured atop her desk that had stolen valuable work hours. 

How could she not be captivated by his smile? 

Some may argue that it was no different than a million online fan photos, but Teddi was a Jon Bon Jovi connoisseur and knew different.  Unlike ninety percent of those found online, her fan photo captured a smile that didn’t stop at his mouth.   

With one strong arm tucked around her, his magnificent grin seeped up into crystalline eyes and swept away the boredom of forced photo ops.  In its place was a soft twinkle of amusement that crinkled the corners with proof he’d enjoyed the moment. 

It made the picture worth far more than a thousand words – or maybe even climaxes – to Teddi.

Wet feet padded from the natatorium into the changing room, where she stripped off her swim cap and suit.  They were exchanged for a robe that was as lush and white as the towel she put on the drying rack.  Cinching the belt firmly around her waist, she pushed French-manicured toes into a pair of flip flops and proceeded through the kitchen and into the front hall. 

Teddi was pondering whether cookies were an acknowledged fetish when a voice hailed from the other side of the foyer.  

Pulling her mind out of the cookie jar, she donned a subtle smile for the one person regularly permitted in her space.   The mid-thirties woman with dark eyes and an equally dark ponytail was Teddi’s part-time housekeeper/assistant three afternoons a week. 

“Yes, Julia?” 

“You had a couple of phone calls while you were swimming.”

“Very well.”  That was nothing unusual.  She got several calls a day, which is why Julia’s work hours were the ideal time to visit the pool.  “I presume you left messages on the desk?”

“Yes, but since one was a referral from Mr. Springsteen, I wanted to tell you personally.  There’s a new appointment penciled in for Monday afternoon.”

When she’d moved here, Teddi had no idea that her neighbor across the street was Bruce Springsteen.  She certainly hadn’t relocated here from Boston in search of a brush with fame, and if she had, it wouldn’t have been with Bruce.

Her reasons for choosing Rumson were of a more personal nature.

At the time of  her husband's death seven years ago, Truman was the only real family she had left in the Boston area.  He’d been born an only child to older parents, who both preceded him in death not long after Teddi’s Grandmother Peabody left this world.   Those four people were the only reasons she might’ve had for staying in the home she and Truman shared.  The majority of her remaining “family” had as little interest in her as she did them. 

The notable exception was her cousin Victoria, who thought the entire Peabody clan needed “a helium enema to lighten them up”.  She and her little branch of the family lived in nearby Tinton Falls, which – along with the proximity to cousins Catarina and Stefan – was what prompted Teddi’s relocation to this area of New Jersey. 

Knowing that Jon Bon Jovi’s house was just the other side of the river hadn’t hurt either, although she’d never crossed over to see it.  There were plenty of photos online that enabled her reclusive tendencies to trump curiosity.    

If Bruce Springsteen hadn’t literally come knocking on her door, she never would’ve realized he lived across the street. 

She customarily kept the gates at the end of the driveway closed to discourage visitors, and as a byproduct, was also blissfully ignorant of the neighbors.  On an afternoon two years ago, her front gates happened to be open to welcome a scheduled client.  That’s who she presumed was knocking at the front door when she answered. 

Teddi was stunned by the famous musician who passed over a missing pet notice about his escaped German shepherd.  

Bruce was clearly stricken at the loss of the dog, and it was his despair that pushed Teddi past shock and outside her comfort zone to offer assistance.  She drew upon experience in communications and social media to help him post notices in the neighborhood Facebook group as well as on several lost pet sites. 

When a good Samaritan saw one of those and brought the dog home, Bruce came knocking again, this time asking if she’d teach him more about social media.  Before she really grasped what was happening, he’d added himself to her client roster. 

Not that he used much of what she taught him.  The man seemed to have more of a fascination with games than anything, but he was pleased with his newly acquired knowledge and occasionally sent a friend or business acquaintance her way.  Upon discovering that her expertise went beyond Facebook tutorials, they sometimes made referrals of their own.    

That made Bruce indirectly responsible for a good portion of her income last year.  Since he’d sold the house back in January, Teddi had expected to become a case of “out of sight, out of mind”.  It was a surprise to find him still passing her name along. 

“Monday is fine,” she assured Julia.  No matter what the calendar held, there would always be a spot for his associates.  “What time is the call?”

“That’s another reason I wanted to tell you personally.”  A tiny crease formed just over the bridge of Julia’s nose as ebony brows drew together with concern.  “This one isn’t a phone or video call.  The man – a manager – insisted on a face-to-face.  He says his client will be more likely to keep the appointment that way.”

As low as Julia’s brows were drawn, Teddi’s shot that much higher.  It wasn’t unheard of for her to hold a business meeting here.  That’s why she had the office, after all.  She simply didn’t make a habit of it, because….  Well, because she didn’t choose to. 

The manager’s heavy-handedness didn’t sit well and invited the speculation of just how close his client was to Springsteen.  If they were talking about a friend of somebody who washed his ex-uncle’s dog back in 1986, she wouldn’t feel as obligated to host an in-person meeting. 

“Who’s the client, Julia?”

“Jon Bon Jovi.”

Considering that she’d been on her way upstairs to fantasize about him, the mere mention of his name had Teddi hyper-aware of her nudity under the robe.  Fastening the lapels together with an iron fist did nothing to stop the beading of her nipples, but it did camouflage them from Julia. 

Jon Bon Jovi’s physical presence in her home was not wise.  The thought of it was undeniably arousing, but she didn’t trust herself to stave off visions of him in the boudoir long enough to explain the advantages of social media.   She would come across as an imbecile groupie and tarnish the reputation Bruce helped build.

That simply could not happen.  Her existing client base was just enough to pay for the upkeep on this house.  Some of them would naturally move on when their goals were met, and she needed to ensure they could be replaced.  Her reputation was pivotal to that.

As badly as she wanted a one-on-one with him, common sense wouldn’t allow it.

“Teddi?  Your face is flushed.  Are you okay?”

Dismissing thoughts of her fantasy lover and his potential visit to her playpen, she hiked her chin and calmly assured, “Yes, fine, but would you mind cancelling the appointment please?  Tell the manager that my schedule prohibits taking on new clients at this time and extend my regrets.”

Julia knew that there was both room in the schedule and Teddi’s business for the extra work.  She was also aware of the new photo occupying center stage on the desk.   All that evidence surely made the meeting a no-brainer in the assistant’s mind, yet she maintained the professionalism Teddi admired.

“I thought you’d be happy about this one, but as you wish.  I’ll call him right now.”

“Thank you.” 

Teddi resumed her journey up the stairs, completely disregarding the confounded eyes that followed her.

I’d be happier to have him in my bed than my office.