A feminized basket ball player

I was nervous. I had hired a neighborhood boy, Jack, to clean the pool once a week. He was a local misfit, always in trouble with the law while in high school. Now nineteen, he was trying to put his life into some type of order and did odd jobs for families in our neighborhood. Still the powerful air of a hoodlum surrounded him. He was strikingly handsome, tall and muscular, with tattoos on his shoulders and sandy blonde hair. He had a faint scar that ran under one eye, the cause of which was the source of much speculation at the gym. Yes, he played ball at the gym. Though weak on finesse skills, he played ferocious defence and could be counted on to take down any smaller player like myself that made the mistake of trying to drive to hoop on him. I remembered that he would be arriving to clean the pool sometime that afternoon. “Oh darling I can’t.” I whimpered to my wife. “Darling!?!” She asked incredulously. “You refer to me as darling? I’m afraid I am not anything close to your darling anymore. Don’t be a fool to underestimate my resolve to expose you if you do not do exactly what it is that I ask of you.” My wife held the tape recorder in one hand and snapped a picture of me pathetically standing in a white thong bikini, with a hand held camera in the other. “Out to the pool with you, bitch.”