I step out onto the tiny balcony and lean back against the cool glass. The curtains of all the apartments facing me are still drawn tight. My eyes drift shut and I can feel the fingers stroking my skin. I sway slightly from side to side in time with the music, then sweep my hands up over my stomach and gather my breasts in my palms. They seem to swell beneath the kneading strokes. My nipples are even needier than before and I almost cry out when the fingers pull and pinch them.
My pussy throbs, need pulsing through my body in time with the drum beat that anchors the melody in the background. I drop my head back against the glass, hitting the large plastic clasp that holds my hair up. I reluctantly let go of my breasts, reach up and release my hair. My dark curls swirl around my shoulders. I drop the clip to the floor and open my eyes in time to see it bounce and slide through a space in the narrow, black, wrought iron railing.
As I glance up from where my hair clip disappeared, I notice the light is on now in the apartment directly across the courtyard from mine. I freeze when I think I see the curtain move slightly. But I realize I don’t really care if someone actually is watching. In fact, my heart races and my body becomes even more alive at the thought that someone might be. The curtains don’t move again, if they ever had to begin with.
Still, the shivers of need become more urgent. I close my eyes once more and imagine someone watching me again, but this time he is at the window across the courtyard. He’s staring at the tiny triangle of lace between my thighs. A slow smile lifts my lips, and I slide one hand beneath the red lace and cup my pussy.
Hot and wet. The labia are puffy and very sensitive. The scent of my arousal surrounds me. I rock my hips as I slide two fingers through the slick flesh and plunge them deep inside me. At first I try to stay with the rhythm of the piano player, but before long there is no rhythm but the timeless one to which my body dances.
I slide my cream-slicked fingers out and as they brush against my sensitive flesh the delicious tension starts to build, begins to spiral quickly out of control. There is nothing I want more now than that ultimate satisfaction. I pump my fingers vigorously in and out of my core. I slide my other hand beneath the wet lace and begin to tease my pulsing clit. The pressure builds higher. My hips rise to meet each thrust as I lean my shoulders back against the glass. My breath comes faster, harder. My heart races, the frantic beat of my pulse echoing in my ears.
His eyes burn into me.
The sensations whirl around me, through me. Overwhelm me. Carry me over the top. I cry out as the orgasm slams into me. My inner muscles try to suck my fingers deeper. I rub my sensitive clit harder and harder to keep the spasms rolling through me. The glass rattles as I bounce wildly against the door.
My fingers finally stop their assault on my clit because I can’t think enough to make them move any longer. I’m nothing but a bundle of exploding nerve endings rocking my body and shaking the glass. I slowly draw my hands out from beneath the red lace. They drop to my side and my knees finally stop trembling. My breath slowly returns to normal and my eyelids drift open.
And the breath leaves my body.
A man steps out of the shadows of the balcony across the courtyard. He stares at me, stroking the magnificent hard-on jutting out from his open blue jeans. I can almost hear his heavy breathing from here. I should be embarrassed, should turn and run, but I can’t tear myself away from the erotic sight. I swallow as I watch his hand encircling that rigid cock, dragging the skin up and down with each strong stroke.
His face is still in the shadows, but I can see that he’s tall and lean, strong and fit, with a runner’s build. His cock is long too. I run my tongue over my dry lips. How long has it been since I’ve had a cock between my lips? Between my legs?
Suddenly he tucks his erection back into his jeans and zips up quickly. He holds up one finger and disappears into his apartment. My heart starts to race. Is he coming back? What does he mean by that gesture?
One minute?
Wait there?
I give it a one?
He’s left the curtain wide open and I can see into his apartment. He doesn’t have a dining table in the middle of the floor either. An impressive weight machine takes up the space. The image of him pumping iron while he watches me almost makes me come again.
I’m still standing on my tiny balcony, lightly panting, leaning against the glass door in only my red thong and heels. My door bell rings and I realize the raised finger must have meant, Be right there.
Chapter Two
I dash back into my apartment and quickly slip my dress back on. My hands shake as I tie it loosely at my waist. I run a hand over my wild hair and know it’s a lost cause. The bell rings again and I yank open the door. He’s even better looking up close. His light brown hair has golden highlights. His dark eyes are like melted chocolate, and his lopsided grin makes me smile in return.
“I’m Wes,” he says, slightly breathless. He must have run down the three flights of stairs, across the courtyard and up another three flights of stairs. I’m breathing more heavily than he is. “I…um…I saw you.”
My heart skips a beat. Those words. I barely register that his gray T-shirt is stretched across a sculpted chest. That his blue jeans are faded and torn at the knees. That he’s wearing worn brown leather sandals on his feet. A thousand thoughts are running through my head, but the only thing I can focus on is the heat in his eyes. My body is on fire. “I’m Lydia.”
I grab the front of his T-shirt and yank him into the room. He’s leaning into the kiss even while he kicks the door closed behind him. This is not a tentative, meeting-for-the-first-time kiss. Our lips slip and slide frantically against each other. Our bodies rub. His hard cock pushes against my stomach and my pussy clenches in response. Our mouths open to each other and I suck on his tongue, drinking in this man who sees me. Kisses me. Touches me.
Finally we fall apart, gasping for breath, his hands on my shoulders.
“Why haven’t I seen you before?” he asks. “Did you just move in?”
I shake my head. “No. Kiss me again.”
He does, pulling me against his hard body and lowering his lips to mine. Sparks of desire shoot through my body, dancing along my skin and zeroing in on my clit. It throbs as if it’s been weeks since I’ve come, instead of just a few minutes before.
“Skin,” I gasp. “I need skin.” I can feel the heat coming off his body and I long to soak it in. I tug at his T-shirt and yank it out of the waistband of his jeans.
He steps away to pull the shirt off over his head. I miss his heat immediately. Then I focus on his muscular chest, his well-defined abs and sculpted biceps. I whimper with the desire to run my hands over that toned body. And the need to feel his hands on me.
While I’ve been checking him out, I realize he’s been looking me over too. “Lydia,” he says softly. “You are beautiful.”
I suddenly feel like a fraud. What would he think if he knew this wasn’t really me? If he knew I didn’t really dress like this? Look like this? Act like this?
“I love this music. It fits you,” he continues as I stand there, not knowing what to say. I haven’t been paying attention to the blues still singing through the air. “It’s exotic and sexy and erotic.”
Exotic? “You don’t know me.”
“I’d like to.” He runs his hands along my arms. “You’re the most exciting woman I’ve ever seen. The bravest woman I’ve ever known.”
Exciting? Brave? I take a step away from him. “No, I’m not.”
“Are you kidding? You just stood out there on that balcony tonight and bared yourself to the world.”
“So did you,” I remind him. I never thought I’d see anything like him standing on his balcony, stroking his thick erection and staring at me. Seeing me. Wanting me.
He shrugs. “I would never have had the guts if you hadn’t done it first.”
I’ve never felt brave, only desperate. “I just wanted someone to see me.”
“I saw you,
Lydia.” He slowly reaches out and takes the sash of my wrap dress in his hand, tugs me closer with it. “I saw every inch of you.” My heart scrambles in my chest. “And I really want to see it all again.” I think he’s going to untie the dress, and maybe he planned on it, but he stops and a sly grin spreads across his face. He drops the sash, letting it bounce against my thigh. “Strip for me.”
I stumble backward. “What?”
“Come on.” He steps around me, crosses the dance floor. His voice is low and smooth, the words seductive. “You know you want to.” He leans back against the breakfast bar, like he belongs there, and folds his arms over his bare chest. He looks so good, I want to lick him all over. “Let me watch you, Lydia.”
Watch me? I can’t speak. I can’t move.
“Isn’t that what you want?” His voice speaks to all those dark needs bubbling up inside me. “Someone to watch you while you do those sexy things? Those naughty things?”
It is what I want. But before when I danced, when I stripped, when I touched myself, I didn’t think anyone really saw me. The curtains were always closed. I danced for that imaginary man who stared out of the darkness and I danced for myself.
Wes is waiting for me to begin. He’s better than any imaginary man. Suddenly I’m itching with the restless desire to dance for him, to strip for him, even though I never thought I’d actually be doing it for a man standing so close to me that I can smell the raw, masculine scent of him.
I feel strangely self-conscious, so I close my eyes. For a moment I let the music soak into my pores, slide through my veins. I begin to slowly move my body with the beat of the song. I open my eyes and Wes’s gaze heats me. Urges me on.
The greedy look in his eyes gives me an intense sense of power that surges through me. Maybe this was what I’d been searching for ever since I started to indulge my exhibitionist streak.
I begin to play with the ends of the sash, running them through my fingers as my hips sway to the beat. For me, stripping had always been more about anticipation than the actual reveal. More about teasing and tempting, even when it was for an imaginary man. So I don’t rush, even when I can hear his ragged breathing over the solo piano. Even though I can’t wait to get naked with this man.
After winding the end of the sash around my hand, I slowly tug on it, holding his gaze. Then the bow releases and the dress begins to fall open. I quickly turn around so my back is to him before it opens completely. I let the parting fabric slip over one shoulder and look back to grin at him. He’s standing straight now, no longer leaning lazily against the bar. His eyes are wide, his hands fisted at his side, watching me. Wanting me.
I can’t stand still and so I’m suddenly dancing, the dress parting farther. I hadn’t taken the time to put my bra back on before I let him in, so my breasts are soon bared to his eyes. The nipples bead tightly under his hungry gaze.
I grab onto the two sides of the bodice and playfully cover my breasts again. When I slowly begin to rub the fabric across my nipples, teasing Wes, teasing myself, we both moan at the same time. The skirt has parted, giving him quick peeks at my pussy as I continue to dance around the floor, the fabric swirling around me, the music telling me what to do.
My breasts throb with the need to feel his hands on me. My sex clenches with the desire for him to fill me. I want to crawl over to him, climb onto him, but I also want to dance for him forever.
I spy the wooden barstool beside Wes. I dance over to him and he reaches for me. I wink as I wiggle out of his way and pick up the stool. Then I whirl around, away from him, and place it in the center of the dance floor. When I turn to face him again, I see he’s grinning widely. Who knew a smile could be so sexy?
As gracefully as I can, I prop one foot on the rung halfway up the stool. The high heel of the shoe holds my foot in place as I bend my knee and arch my back. I grasp the top of the stool with both hands and push my body up and down in time with the music. My leg is bared by the parted fabric, my breasts peek out of the open bodice.
Testing my balance, I let go of the stool and begin to touch myself, still moving to the beat of the blues. If I wanted to take the time, take a break and stop the flow, I’d change the music to something more upbeat. I’m not riding the blues anymore tonight. But I’m not going to stop what I’m doing and really, there isn’t a rhythm much more sensual than the blues.
Wes groans when I gather my breasts in my hands and squeeze, then flick the nipples with my fingernails. Tingles shower over me and I shiver with delight. Can he see the moisture trickling down my thigh?
Sweat runs down my neck and I lift my hair with one hand. But there’s no cooling down now. My body’s on fire. I slide my other hand lower, beneath the red lace, to play with the slick flesh between my legs. Finger my swollen lips. Plunge into my heated core. Everything is heated now.
I watch him watch me. His mouth is slightly open, his eyes dark and shadowed. I sweep my tongue over my dry lips and my breath hitches in my chest. I let go of my hair and it tumbles down my back, and I draw my hand out of my panties. I don’t want to do this alone anymore.
He steps away from the bar then, as if he knows, and walks silently over to me. I grasp the seat again. My heel is still hooked over the rung of the stool. He circles around behind me and leans over my body. He runs his hands along my arms, still bound in the red silk, then covers my hands with his. His jeans are rough against my skin, even through the dress. His heavy cock presses the zippered fly into the cheek of my ass.
“Lydia,” he whispers in my ear. He bends me over the stool with his long, hard body. I shiver and push my ass back against him. The edge of the round seat presses into my stomach. The bare wood is cool against my skin. “God, Lydia, I have to touch you.”
“Yes. Touch me, Wes. Touch me anywhere. Touch me everywhere.”
He shifts to one side, releases one of my hands and runs his over my bottom. “Your skin is so smooth and soft.” I feel the skirt slide up my legs and over my ass to puddle in the small of my back. He caresses my bare cheek with his large hand, warming me even more.
“You liked my eyes on you,” he says smoothly. “I know you did. Do you like my hands on you now? Do you want my mouth on you? My cock inside you?”
I moan as his words excite me. As his touch arouses me. Does he know he’s just what I needed tonight? Does he know he’s made me come alive? He’s the answer to a wish I never even dared to make.
I need to move again. To see him. To touch him. I wriggle beneath him and push up on the seat of the stool. He backs away so I can straighten, unhook my heel, and step away from the stool. When I turn around to look at him, Wes is so close I almost bump into him.
The open dress tangles around my legs as I turn. I never even finished my striptease, but I’m done teasing now. I tug impatiently at the tight sleeves until they release their hold, then let the dress slide down my back. The silky fabric makes me shiver as it slithers down my body. I push the pile of silk away with the toe of my shoe.
Wes lets out a long, shaky sigh. “More.”
More? Then I realize I’m still wearing the red thong. The wet fabric drags against my skin as I tug it over my hips and down my legs. I grasp his strong shoulder with one hand to steady myself as I step out of it, teetering on my stiletto heels as I shift from one foot to the other. With a sly smile, I hand it to him, dangling it from one finger. His eyes widen and he snatches it out of my hand, lifts it to his nose and inhales deeply.
“Mmm.” He stares at me over the lace. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
The smile slips from my face and I shrug, still feeling like a fraud. But from somewhere deep inside I remind myself that I did masturbate out on that balcony. I did perform a striptease for a man I’d never met before. I did just hand that stranger my soaking wet panties to do with as he’d like.
Maybe this is me.
“What about the shoes? Do you want me to take them off too?” I grab onto his shoulder again to steady myself as I lift my ri
ght foot.
“No!” He clears his throat, then repeats a little softer, “No.” I lower my foot to the ground. He looks like he’s going to say something else, then just shrugs, shakes his head and once more says, “No.”
“Okay.” I hook my fingers into the waistband of his jeans, just above the snap. His skin is hot against my hand. I tug him forward and he doesn’t resist.
“I haven’t seen you before,” I say. “Where have you been? Exercising behind your curtains?” I pop open the snap on his jeans, holding his chocolate brown gaze. He sucks in his breath.
“I used to work nights,” he says, his voice a little rougher now. Wes reaches out and caresses my breasts, softly at first, as if he’s learning the shape of them, the firmness of the flesh, the texture of the skin. Then he squeezes, not hard, just enough to make them ache in a really good way. When he scrapes his thumbs over the tips of my nipples, sparks zap through my body and I gasp out loud. It feels different, better, when he touches me.
He chuckles. “If I knew what I was missing, I’d have changed jobs a long time ago.”
Another time, another place, I might have asked him what he did for a living, but right now I don’t care. “I’d like to see more of you, too.” I grasp the tab of his zipper with a steady hand. “May I?”
“Hell, yeah.”
His cock pushes eagerly against the zipper as I slowly pull down the tab. The rasp of the zipper seems nearly as loud as our ragged breathing. Once the fly is open, I run my hand along his soft cotton briefs, cupping the hard ridge of his erection. Wes moans and presses into my hand. I flick my gaze up to meet his dark eyes, then back down as I release his hot penis from the underwear.
“Talk about beautiful,” I murmur. His long cock curls up from a tight nest of hair, pointing at his flat abdomen. My pussy moistens, softens, anticipating the thrust of that hard shaft into my hot core. Another trickle of moisture runs down my inner thigh.
See Me Page 2
