Dee's Wet Fall

As Dee Smythe pulled up to the Stepford house, she was, once again, reminded how far she was from Densington, Nebraska, otherwise known as 'Smallville, USA' just another of many tiny burgs in the heartland of America. Not to be confused with Smallville, Kansas, the fictitious home where Superman, the comic book superhero, grew up, the small-town Dee had spent her first twenty-six years seemed like a lifetime away.

While giving her keys to the valet, Dee's first view of the house, that her husband's boss lived in, was an eye-opener. It may not have been a mansion, but the house that Howard and Estell Stepford called home was very impressive.

I just hope I don't screw things up. I want to make a good impression on Mrs. Stepford. Robert said his job might depend on it. Mr. Stepford puts a lot of a stock in what his wife says.

Now, as Dee handed her coat, or 'wrap' as some of the more liberal-minded women called a lady's outer garment, to the maid, she retained her Janessa Leone black Luca wool fedora and evening gloves. The hat, which came from Largo Drive, a Los Angeles-based company was the perfect match for Dee's Ramy Brook Amon Long-Sleeve Mini Dress from Neiman Marcus. The V-neck little black dress, otherwise known as an LBD, really emphasized Dee's overly endowed bust. A pair of Dolce & Gabbana patent leather pumps completed Dee's ensemble.

Mrs. Stepford, the grand dame of Briaridge, the affluent subdivision that the "big dogs," as Dee's husband referred to the managing partners of Stepford, Richey, Morgan, and Daniels law firm, was waiting with a 'proforma smile' plastered on her face.

"My dear, Dee, it's so wonderful to see you. I am very happy that you could make it."

"Thank you for your kind invitation, Mrs. Stepford. It's a real pleasure to be here. You have a beautiful home."

"Thank you. And please, it's Estell to my friends."

"Thank you, Estell. We've hardly had time to settle in and just don't know many people. Omaha is very different from where we come from. Your friendship means so much to me."

But now, after an hour of mundane chit-chat with the wives of all the muckety-mucks as Dee's husband, Robert called them, Dee Smythe was left alone to explore this mighty dwelling in one of the more upscale areas of Omaha, Nebraska.

Wow, I have never met so many boring women in all my life. I feel sorry for their husbands. Not one of them knows the first thing about Cornhusker football.

"Wow! What's that?" Dee exclaimed in a hushed tone to herself.

She had just walked past an open door, and to her great delight, Dee spotted a swimming pool.

Oh My God! That has got to be the biggest swimming pool I have ever seen. And . . . it's indoors, too.

As the wife of the junior member of the most prestigious law firm, in the largest city of the great state of Nebraska, looked around, she saw, not only, the largest pool she had ever seen, but also a nice hot tub that sat on a ledge a little above the main pool.

"Wow!" Dee silently mouthed the word. As she looked around, Dee was very impressed with, not only the size of the pool, but the neatness of this pool room. The room, the pool, everything was immaculate. Now, as she looked across the pool to the far corner of the room, Dee saw something that caused her eyes to light up.

"Oh boy! Ring Toss!"

Like a kid in a candy store, the beautiful blonde-haired woman, from the backwoods of Nebraska, quickly rushed to the farthest corner of this heavenly room. There she found an assortment of balls, balloons, floats, and other aquatic toys in which to have pleasure, plus of course, she found Ring Toss, a game Dee had loved ever since she was a small child.

Without thinking, Dee started playing Ring Toss while envisioning childhood memories with her best friend, Becky Lynn. She lost track of the time but after several rounds of the childhood game, by herself or course, Dee was returning to the throwing line when she heard her name being called from outside the room.

"Dee, where are you?"

Everything would probably have worked out alright except Mrs. Stepford's voice came from behind Dee, through the door she had entered the pool room. Dee wasn't paying attention, however, and was right at the edge of the pool. Looking back over her shoulder to answer, Dee lost her balance. Feeling the loss of equilibrium, the demure dish-water blonde spent several seconds fighting to stay upright. Standing with her back to the pool, a scant inch from the edge, Dee started flailing her arms, losing several of the rings to the pool, in an effect to maintain her balance. In fact, at one point, Dee Smythe was balanced so precariously, standing on one leg while flailing her arms.

Dee did, however, recover her balance. As she stood there, shaking, from her near-miss with disaster, Dee took a deep sigh of relief.

"Thank you," Dee whispered to nobody in particular.

Her next step, however, proved to be Dee's downfall. The heel of her right shoe got caught in a small crack right at the edge of the pool. As she went to take a step, Dee's momentum caused that heel to snap off, and she felt herself start to pitch forward. Fearing she would fall on her face, Dee overcompensated in an effort to regain her equilibrium. The next thing Dee Smythe, of Densington, Nebraska knew, she was falling backwards into the water.

"OH SHIIIIIITTTT!"

SPLASH!!!!

"Well . . . that's just great," Dee said as she came to the surface and pulled herself out of the water. Standing by the side of the pool with water from Dee's wet hair cascading down her body and over her soaked black dress, Dee Smythe was a mess. And she knew it.

"Damn, this is just great. Why did this have to happen to me . . .?"

Forgetting that she was wearing only one-and-a-half shoes, what with the broken heel, Dee took one step, lost her balance, and immediately fell in the pool again. This time, it was face-first.

Splash!

"Fuck!"

When she climbed out of the pool again, Mrs. Smythe, the junior member of the Briaridge Ladies Auxiliary club, was beside herself.

"What is Mrs. Stepford going to think?"

"How is this going to affect my husband's job? Will he still have a job after this?"

These questions were running through Dee's mind as she stood there, dripping water all over the poolside concrete. Several scenarios ran through her mind, none of them good, as Dee went to retrieve her broken heel. Leaving a pool of water behind her, Dee stooped to pick up her broken shoe when she noticed half-a-dozen brightly colored rings floating in the pool from where she had dropped them. One was even resting on the bottom of the pool.

"Shit," she silently exclaimed. "That one must be broken, or it would have floated like the others."

"Oh hell," Dee sighed but quickly decided she would have to retrieve the errant rings, so the fiery spitfire jumped in for a third time, this one was feet first.

Since no inquisitive minds had stepped into the pool room in response to Dee's latest calamity, she started to get excited from the feel of the water against her skin. Wet clingy, tight clothing always did that to her. From the clingy wet LBD, or Little Black Dress, to her wet, nude-colored, nylons, from the black lacy underwear to her black, push-up bra, which enhanced the great view of her huge breasts, Dee started to feel a sense of deep arousal from the wet position she now found herself in.

As she bobbed around in the water, after returning the rings, Dee started to think about other times she had gotten wet.

Wow, I wonder if . . .

Dee, once again, dove to the bottom of the pool. Looking up, she watched a stream of bubbles lazily float to the surface as she carefully exhaled a little at a time. She always found great satisfaction in watching the little things in life. Seeing those tiny air bubbles brought forth memories from another time.

Damn, I remember when Becky Lynn and I . . .

Dee smiled at that walk down memory lane.

Feeling the way her dress moved, as it flowed through the water, while she swam the length of the pool, Dee loved the sensual feeling as her dress moved back and forth over her wet body.

As she reached the end of the pool, or if one was describing it from a different perspective, the beginning of the large basin of water, Dee stepped out, climbing a very long, or wide step, before reaching the concrete patio. With water cascading down her body, Dee made her way to the small table where she had left her handbag. Now, Dee Smythe wasn't one to carry a really large bag, but rather a small purse or "clutch" as hers was called. Just large enough to hold the most important things she would need, Dee had her wallet with ID, lipstick, cosmetic kit, and other odds and ends, plus of course her most important thing, the all-important cell phone that Dee would be lost without.

Now, Dee took her phone along with a small, miniature tripod, and retreated to the pool. While still dripping wet, Dee sat up the phone to record video and placed it in its holder at the edge of the pool, then angled the phone just right so it would train on the top step.

Dee quietly stepped into the pool again. And this time, she lay down on that top step, almost, but not quite fully covered by the water. As Dee balanced her wet body, mostly submerged but with her head above the surface, she turned toward the camera and gave the biggest smile as her darkened hair, completely soaked, lay floating on the surface of the water. Dee, in her drenched black dress and mostly submerged, made a very lovely target for her camera's lens.

From time to time, Dee would lower her head into the water so her hair would remain thoroughly saturated. Finally tiring of this position, Dee started looking for something new to play with. And she found it at the far end of the pool.

When Dee first fell into the pool, her black hat had fallen off her head. She had forgotten all about it, but now Dee saw her favorite headpiece had been pushed to the far corner of the pool by the wave action, where it floated, or rather semi-floated on the surface, a few feet from the diving board.

Hmm . . . I wonder . . .

Dee got an itch. And she decided to scratch it. Following up on her wild hormonal imbalance, Dee stood up and climbed out of the pool. While still dripping wet, she walked, or rather limped, the length of the pool, past the Ring Toss game in the far corner.

With water rolling down off her chin, Dee bent over to retrieve the errant fedora but then said, "the hell with it," and dived in the pool, one more time. When she surfaced beside her hat, Dee saw that it had fallen with the crown upright trapping a pocket of air, and that was why it was floating on the surface of the pool.

Now as she floated there, in the deepest part of the pool, Dee picked up the soggy hat and very gently placed it on top of her own water-logged head. Looking back at the other end of the pool, where she had left her phone zoomed in on the spot that she now treaded water, Dee stuck out her tongue and then holding the hat in place ducked her head under the water and reached for the bottom of the pool.

As she surfaced, though, a chill ran through Dee's body as the nearside door opened at her end of the room, and then she heard a voice say, "I could swear I heard something."

"I'm sure you were mistaken."

This time the voice belonged to a face that Dee could remember, Mrs. Stepford.

As Dee gently floated, her head barely above water, with the diving board shielding her from view, she heard the two women talk, from almost directly overhead.

"Yes, but see all the water, Estell. I knew I heard something."

"Oh, it was probably one of the kids coming in for a quick dip. It's obvious that nobody's here now."

Dee held her breath while the two women chatted for a couple minutes right above where she treaded water.

Please God, don't let them . . . oh shit! My phone . . . NO . . .!

Dee looked at the far end of the pool where her phone sat precariously perched and focused on Dee's end of the pool. All she could do was pray that the ladies wouldn't see it.

Dee all but breathed a sigh of relief when the two women left. Still, she didn't dare move for a good five minutes. Finally, though, she felt it was safe enough to come out of hiding. Clutching her soaked hat and broken heel in one hand, Dee reached up and pulled herself out of the water.

Finding it was very difficult to walk while wearing one high heel and a partial, Dee decided to take off her shoes and walk barefoot. When she bent over, however, Dee didn't think about the spectacle she was making of herself as her back was to the windows lining the street. And since the blinds were not drawn, anyone walking the street could peer in and view the very shapely woman, dressed all in black and soaking wet, as she bent over to take off the remnants of her footwear.

It started with one man, a guy walking his dog. He actually saw Dee when she first fell in the pool. With amazed eyes glued to the scene that was unfolding, he responded as others stopped to ask what he was watching. Pretty soon, the number was up to an even dozen, some men, some women, and one precocious ten-year old boy, whose mother was constantly putting her hand over his eyes and telling him to look the other way. And they were all wearing humorous looks on their faces. While this was going on, Dee was completely oblivious to her legion of followers who had a front-row seat for Dee's watery antics. And they all found it highly amusing.

As Dee finished taking off her heels, she finally sensed someone was watching her, though she could not see anyone in the vicinity of the pool or even at either one of the doors leading into the pool room.

Finally, with a sense of overwhelming trepidation, Dee took a quick look over her right shoulder.

Oh Shit . . .!

Now as Dee turned fully around, to face her crowd of admiring fans, most of whom were laughing, she felt her face flush and turn beet red. with embarrassment.

Shit . . . this is . . . just . . . so . . . so . . . FUCK!

But with nowhere to go, Dee did all she could do under the circumstances. As she stood there, in her soaking wet dress, evening gloves and big floppy hat, completely drenched, Dee Smythe, did a curtsy, which turned into a complete bow. Then with Dee's crowd of admiring onlookers laughing and clapping, Dee Smyth picked up her designer's clutch and cell phone, did a left face, which would have done a marine drill instructor proud, and slowly marched from the room, all while looking like a drowned cat.