The Pool Boy by William Quincy Belle

The Pool Boy by William Quincy Belle

Marlene swiped at the flesh under her upper arm and watched as it jiggled. For a moment she stood transfixed, then let out a sigh.

Picking up the bottle of suntan lotion, she squirted some into her palm, spreading it over her neck and upper chest. As she glanced down, Marlene stopped and stared along the top of her bathing suit. With one finger, she gingerly poked several stretch marks; should she expect anything less after two kids? She cupped her right breast, lifted it a moment before releasing it, and watched it sag.

Squirting more lotion into her hand, Marlene set the bottle down and put her foot on the lounger. She rubbed her hands together and bent forward to cover her legs and thighs. Twisting slightly and looking closer at her outer thigh, she exhaled noisily. More cellulite.

As she worked on the other leg, Marlene’s eye caught the roll of flesh protruding over the waistband of her swimsuit. Standing, she ran her hand over her stomach. It wasn’t flat: it bulged. With one hand, she squeezed a love handle.

Marlene glanced down at the second lounger. It was Saturday, and yet Richard was at the office. Is he working more these days? She wondered. He had recently received a promotion, which meant more responsibility, but there had been a time when he was home every weekend.

Again, she held up her arm and swiped at the hanging flesh, wincing. Was she merely unhappy with Richard’s absence, or was she disgusted with her own body? Is ‘disgust’ too harsh a word? Marlene knew she had to do something if she wanted to rid herself of such feelings, but what? Go on a diet? Join a gym? Were there any true anti-aging treatments for women her age, or was the only real option plastic surgery? She blanched at the thought. There was no way she was going to turn into one of those desperate women, seeking all sorts of ill-advised procedures, turning into some sort of disfigured and artificial-looking freak of nature.

Marlene shivered, thinking of the before-and-after pictures she had seen in magazines. If her husband wasn’t coming home every night now, bad cosmetic surgery would ensure he never came home again. She let out another sigh, hearing for herself the touch of exasperation mingled with sadness. She was getting older, her body was aging, and there wasn’t anything she could do to stop the progress of time.

Unfurling a beach towel, Marlene arranged it on the lounger and adjusted the back into a semi-upright position. Stepping out of her flip-flops, she sank down and stretched out her legs. The light reflecting off the pool was mirrored in her sunglasses. It was warm, and the sun felt good on her skin. She reached out and picked up her book, but quickly changed her mind and laid back down. Instead, she shut her eyes and listened to the quiet behind the house. A bird chirped; a car went by.

Next week, this would be a busy spot. Richard was planning a big celebration with family and friends for her fiftieth birthday. He would have the party catered so she wouldn’t have to do anything except enjoy herself. Marlene knew everybody would gather to congratulate her on making it this far; congratulate her on still being alive. But is that really an accomplishment? She wondered about that book she had always wanted to write. Or the sculpting class she procrastinated about.

Last week at the salon, Candy had made note of some gray hair. Would it be vain to color it and delay the inevitable? Or should she give up now and let nature run its course? Marlene considered if such a color would make her look dignified, or if it would leave her looking older than she was. Men seemed to look more distinguished with hints of gray, but was that idea applicable to women?

With her eyes shut, the image of her loose skin flopping back and forth haunted. “Aw, Jesus,” she muttered softly. Fifty years old. Gray hair. Stretch marks. It was all adding up, and it wasn’t looking good.

Off to her left came a distinct metallic squeak and Marlene opened one eye. The pool gate swung open and Freddy, the neighbor’s kid, entered the yard. He set a satchel and a smart phone on the table and started around the edge of the pool, heading toward the utility shed. She followed the eighteen-year-old with her eyes, blushing, when he stopped and stared at her.

“Oh, hello Mrs. Caulfield. Sorry to disturb. Would you like me to come back later?”

“No, that’s fine, Freddy. Just ignore me and do your work.”

“Okay. This shouldn’t take any more than thirty minutes.”

“That’s fine,” she said, adjusting the back of the lounger. Turning over, Marlene laid her head to one side, fiddled with her sunglasses, and again shut her eyes. The sun beat down on her skin, making her feel drowsy. She was only vaguely aware of Freddy dragging out the tubing for the pool vacuum.

& & &

“Mrs. Caulfield? Mrs. Caulfield?”

Marlene opened her eyes and turned her head to see Freddy standing to one side. She must have dozed off. “Yes?”

“I’ve finished up.”

“Okay,” she said, half-rolling over and propping herself up on one arm.

“Everything is vacuumed, and I cleaned out the skimmer. Plus, I tested the water and put in some more chlorine.”

“Thank you, Freddy.” She shook her head groggily.

Marlene realized Freddy was staring at her a little more closely than usual. Was she showing too much skin? Too much old, weathered, wrinkled skin? What would a teenage boy think of my sagging body?

“Mrs. Caulfield?”

“Yes, Freddy?”

“Uh … could you pay me?”

“Oh, yes! Of course.” She stood and looked for her flip-flops, slipping one foot in after the other. As she glanced back up and stepped toward the house, Marlene abruptly came face-to-face with the boy. She stared at him, surprised, then realized he wasn’t looking at her but staring at her chest. When was the last time Richard had stared at her like that?

“Freddy?”

He looked startled, his gaze darting around. “Yes?”

“I’ll get your money now.”

“Yes, of course,” he said, stepping to one side. “Sorry.”

Marlene strode around the pool and toward the house, feeling as though her two-piece bathing suit left a lot exposed. What would the young man think of an old woman walking around in such an outfit? Should she even care? Was fifty really that old?

Opening the patio door, she entered the kitchen and fished around in her purse for her wallet. Turning back, she stopped and stared at Freddy, who was thumbing a message on his smart phone. As she watched, he reached down to his groin, seeming to struggle a moment before continuing to type. He turned slightly, giving her a side view. Does the boy have an erection?

Quietly, Marlene stepped closer to the patio door. There was no doubt the bulge in his pants meant Freddy had a hard-on. She snickered. Is he looking at dirty pictures? Stepping back into the yard, she shut the patio door and held out a bill. “Ten dollars?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” Freddy folded the bill, sliding it into his pocket. Marlene noticed he had set his phone down. “Would it be too much trouble if I used your washroom?”

“Not at all. In the door, across the kitchen, and the first door to your left in the hallway.”

Freddy nodded and disappeared into the house. Curious, Marlene eyed the phone and glanced toward the kitchen. It was empty.

Picking up the smart phone she looked at the screen and the various icons representing the phone’s functions. A small numeral one appeared beside an icon labeled Text Messages. She touched the icon with her index finger and the screen showed a dialogue with somebody called Bob.

Bob: Where are you? Our game starts in an hour.

Fred: I’m just finishing a pool.

Bob: Where?

Fred: Caulfield’s.

Bob: OMG, she’s hot. Is she there?

Fred: Sunning by the pool.

Bob: God, ya gotta have a boner. That’s one sexy MILF.

Just then Marlene heard a noise from the house. She quickly closed the conversation and set the phone back down on the table.

Freddy came out from the kitchen and slid the patio door shut. “Thanks, Mrs. Caulfield.”

She glanced at the phone, then back at the boy. “Uh, thanks for your help today.”

“The chlorine should be good for a few days, but I’d keep an eye on the deep end as I saw some algae. It grows faster in the hot weather.”

Marlene raised her hand and adjusted her sunglasses. “Yes, it is hot,” she said, bringing her hand to her collarbone and slowly tracing a finger along the strap of her top. “It feels very hot.” Feeling safely hidden behind her tinted shades, she watched Freddy as his eyes followed the movement of her hand. He was staring at her chest and let out an audible gulp. Is it this easy? She half-smiled.

“Don’t forget your stuff,” she said, pointing to the table.

Freddy turned and followed her gesture. “Oh … yeah … right …” He picked up his satchel and phone. “Thanks again, Mrs. Caulfield.”

“Have a good day, Freddy.”

The boy glanced again at her chest before walking to the gate. He carefully shut it and waved over the top. “See you!”

Marlene stared after him, feeling flush. MILF? What did that mean again? She thought back to a newspaper article she had read once about older women. Ah yes, MILF: Mother, I’d like to — She chuckled and turned to survey her reflection in the patio door. Freddy clearly had a hard-on. “Because of me? Seriously?” she said aloud.

Turned sideways, she looked at her profile. Was she old, or just older? Was she really out of shape, or simply more mature? She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Tsk, tsk.” She looked around, suddenly paranoid about someone watching. Was anybody listening?

She looked again at her reflection. He was only a boy, but it felt good to be appreciated, to be desired. She sucked in her stomach and stuck out her chest. Turning back and forth, she smiled as she looked at herself from different angles. I’m foxy. I’m hot.

Looking once more around the backyard, Marlene stepped into the kitchen. Picking up the phone, she dialed Richard’s office and waited for him to pick up. “Hi, sweetie. How’s work?” She leaned against the counter. “Why don’t you knock off and come home? I’d like to spend some quality time with my man.” She listened to his response and glanced at the clock. “See you at five.”

Marlene hung up and stood still, staring off into space. She shook her head and grinned. “This cougar ain’t dead yet.”

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright William Quincy Belle 2025

Image Source: Kyle东君 from Pixabay