LISA

Her perfume still lingered on my skin when I came home, and I didn't want to wash it off. And now I'm back here in a different capacity, mixing chemicals for a pool that's barely used and only really needs servicing every ten days. Perhaps I should tell her she's wasting money—someone should have a long time ago—but if I did, I wouldn't see much of her in the precious time I have until Barry is back from sick leave.

Jennie hasn't come out, and I wonder if she's hiding from me somewhere in that big house. I wouldn't blame her; it's not like we share a personal relationship, and maybe she's mortified, now that it's hit her what she's done. If this was it, then I will cherish the memory and stay out of her way as much as I can. But one thing I'm certain of: she will cherish the memory too, no matter what she tells herself.

I did something very out of character last night. When I was in bed, exhausted, yet wide awake with adrenaline, I looked her up. There wasn't much to find on Jennie as her social media profiles were set to private, but then I found Ella and there was an endless stream of information and photographs that taught me more about her mother. I initially thought her ex-husband was the one with the money, but it seems that Jennie's even wealthier than him. There were holiday snaps of them visiting her mother in their family palace in Beirut. Their house on Stuyvesant Street in East Village, New York, where she lived with her husband and kids until they got divorced must have been worth a fortune and she has some very powerful friends. She was rather a socialite there, perhaps she still is. After all, I have no idea what she gets up to at night. Through Ella's channels, I found pictures of Jennie and her husband at the Met Gala, and of her and Ella on some billionaire's yacht.

As I started forming a picture of her life, I realized how much is at stake for her. Her family in Beirut, her place in society… If anyone found out she'd hired a female escort, the scandal would follow her for years to come and the consequences may be devastating. Jennie is not a woman who could easily come out, and I feel for her because last night it was clear that she's very much into women.

Nola, the friendly but terribly nosey housekeeper, waves at me from the terrace and shouts that she's making me a coffee. I'm surprised there's no full-time staff here. Most people I work for have a live-in housekeeper and a full-time gardener, but here, everything is outsourced. The only constant is Nola. She told me Jennie is very flexible and that she can work this job around her other households, that Jennie's kids are polite and tidy and that it's the easiest job she's ever had.

"Thank you," I say when she comes over with a cappuccino and a slice of cake. "Honestly, you shouldn't. I'm only here for a little while today; there's not much to do."

"But you need to try it," she says, sipping her own coffee. "I made it myself. It's Polish."

"Wow. You're a baker?" I take a bite and moan in delight. "It's delicious."

"I try," she says cheerfully, then turns to look up at the bedroom balcony where Jennie has appeared. She's dressed in a white robe, her hair is wrapped in a towel and she looks like a Greek goddess. The hint of cleavage is tantalizing and as I stare up at her I feel my lips pull into a wide smile. My queen. For long moments, Jennie looks as if she's seen a ghost, but then she finally smiles back at me, turning the nervous tightness in my core to a delightful flutter. It's not a polite smile; she seems genuinely happy to see me. "Hi, Lisa," she shouts enthusiastically.

"Good morning, Jennie." An awkward moment follows in which we stand there and linger; me looking up at her, and her looking down at me. She's too far away to have a conversation and even if we could, what would we say to each other with Nola here?

Jennie backs away, clearly thinking the same. She gives me a wave and casts me one last glance over her shoulder before she retreats to her bedroom, where I imagine she'll strip off her robe. God, I want her so much.

"You call her Jennie…" Nola shoots me a puzzled look.

"She asked me to," I say with a shrug.

"Hmm… she keeps telling me that too, but I just can't get used to it." Nola takes a sip of her coffee and glances up at the balcony again. The sliding doors are closed but she still lowers her voice. "She's in a funny mood today."

"Oh?" I'm thinking Nola is crossing a line here, but I pretend I'm all ears. After all, I'm just the pool technician, and staff do tend to gossip among each other. "What do you mean?"

"Her bed," Nola whispers. "It didn't look the way it normally does in the mornings. She's also got new lingerie, I just put it in the wash. And the way she's acting…" She pauses for effect. "I'm almost certain she had a man over."

Biting my lip to force back a grin, I remain silent. If only she knew.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," Nola continues, waving a hand. "I'm gossiping again."

Yes, you are. I cast her a bemused look and squeeze her shoulder. "It's okay, I won't tell anyone."

"Please don't. I'm just so happy for her that she's finally moving on and letting go of that ex-husband of hers." She smiles. "I think Miss Kim's in love."

I can't tell Nola my own theory; that Jennie's acting bewildered because she's confused about her sexuality after a night with me, so I hand her my empty cup and grab the net I've brought. "If she is, then good for her." I start dragging the net through the water, letting Nola know I'm here to work. "Thank you so much for the coffee and the cake. It was delicious."