by Bridy McAvoy
She smiled, imagining him waiting in the airport terminal till she was out of sight, then sprinting away from the departure gate and holing up somewhere, probably the Hilton Express next to the airport. Then he’d get a taxi back, around five-thirty, to the end of the road, sneak into the woods and make his way past the intervening houses till he was behind their house.
Having fixed herself a light lunch and an even lighter salad for dinner, she decided to pamper herself before playing along with him. A long soak in the tub was called for, followed by some meticulous attention to her body hair, her toenails and fingernails, followed by teasing her hair into lustrous volume and perfectly applied make-up. Before she realized it, it was five o’clock so she quickly belted her long fluffy robe round herself and headed back to the kitchen where the prepared salad waited for her in the fridge.
Polishing off the salad took only minutes and she busied herself tidying up the kitchen before the hour hand arrived at the top and it was time to go back upstairs and open the box.
Delia sat there for a couple of minutes looking at the box, which she’d left sitting in the middle of the bed she normally shared with her husband. Outside, the light was fading but she’d followed the instructions and left the curtains open.
Why he wants me to leave the curtains open when I already know there’s no camera out there, I don’t know. Ah…of course. He doesn’t know I’ve found out he removed the camera! I guess it makes sense after all.
It took her several minutes longer to pluck up the courage to open the box and she eventually slit the tape holding it open with a pair of nail scissors and opened the top flaps. There was a single sheet of paper sitting on top of a couple of layers of tissue paper. The page contained yet more instructions together with a large admonition to Read First.
The instructions were quite simple; to stand between the bed and the window and remove all her clothes while remaining facing the window. Only then could she look at the clothes in the box and put them on. There would be further instructions provided at that point.
Hmmm…he thinks I’m dressed.
Delia giggled to herself—she was only wearing the robe and her house slippers, nothing more, so complying with the first part of the instructions wasn’t going to take her very long. She glanced out of the window and noticed it was now black outside; night had fallen while she’d been prevaricating.
If he’s out there I hope he’s wrapped up warm, it’s going to get cold.
She pushed the box over toward the window side of the bed and rose to her feet before taking the few paces that placed her squarely between the window and the bed. She faced the window and smiled out into the darkness as she kicked off her slippers.
If I’m going to do this, I’d best do it quickly!
Her hands dropped to the knot on the belt holding the robe closed and after a few seconds pulled the ends free. All she had to do now was pull the sides apart, shrug her shoulders and it would drop to the floor, leaving her nude.
Here goes nothing!
The robe slithered down her body and landed on the carpet with a soft whumph. Delia let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and shivered despite the room being warm. Standing still for several seconds to let her alleged voyeur drink in the sight of her body took rigid muscular control but after that she turned her back on the window and bent to the box, lifting the top layers of tissue off the clothing inside.
When she saw the contents of the box she could do nothing but giggle. Lying on the top was a matching set of sheer white lingerie—bra and panties as well as a thin camisole. Underneath was a cheerleader’s top and skirt, in the colours of her old alma mater, although she’d never been a cheerleader at college. High school yes, but college no.
She couldn’t help laughing at the costume then realized if there was someone outside he was enjoying the sight of her naked ass. She didn’t stop to think any further and pulled the underwear out, stepping into the panties. When she bent to pull them up her legs she realized she’d just presented an even better view of her pussy slit poking out between her legs, so she hurried to complete the maneuver before pulling the bra over her shoulders and fastening it behind her back. She looked at the camisole and shrugged before pulling that on over her head.
At that point she paused and took a look at herself in the mirror. There might be two layers of cloth over her breasts, but both were thin and just about transparent—her nipples showed through very clearly. Further down, the camisole only just reached the waistband of the panties, leaving only a single layer of cloth covering her pussy. When she turned to face the mirror more directly she could see the outline of her outer lips very clearly.
God, that looks sexy!
If her husband had been in the room rather than potentially outside, she knew he’d have pounced on her by now. If she wore underwear that was even remotely sexy he was usually on her like a flash. Not that she objected, of course. Just the thought of what might have happened if he’d been there brought a flush of arousal to her cheeks. Her nipples unfurled and hardened and she could even see her pussy lips start to swell below her thin landing strip.
Get a grip!
Delia decided to complete the process and pulled the snug-fitting top over the camisole, stretching it down into position before reaching for the skirt. When she removed the skirt, the box rattled and she was amazed to see a small flip top mobile phone in the box, together with an even smaller single Bluetooth ear headpiece.
Interesting!
She stepped into the skirt and pulled it up her legs before zipping it closed.
All I need is the pumps and the tassels and I’m ready to go!
The phone in the box rang. She hadn’t realized it was actually switched on. The ring tone was something completely naff, and instantly forgettable, but it still made her jump.
Cheapskate!
“Hello?”
“Put the earpiece on.”
The voice had a mid-easterner’s clipped tones, rather than her husband’s easy drawl, but it still sounded a lot like him.
“Steve! What the hell…?”
“Put the earpiece on. Do it. Now.”
“Why?”
“Because it leaves your hands free. Now just do it! Don’t forget to click the on switch first.”
Delia fumbled with the tiny earpiece and finally found the part to press to turn it on. Immediately, a little blue light flashed into life on the earpiece followed, a few seconds later, by a matching one on the handset. She pushed the headset into place and listened, hearing nothing.
“Hello?”
“That’s better. You can put your hands down now.”
“Steve, I think this game has gone on long enough.”
He chuckled, and it was very similar to her husband’s laugh—his wicked, dirty one, when he was thinking about getting her into bed.
“I’m not your husband. Now pick the phone up and go downstairs to the dining room. Put the phone on the table.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so, that’s why. Remember, I didn’t send you all the pictures and, of course, I have all the digital copies of them I want.”
Delia gasped, and realized she was pretty well trapped. If it really was a blackmailer, she’d just given him even more blackmail material and, besides, how would she ever explain why she’d undressed in front of the window once more then put on clothing of his choice, not her own? It wouldn’t make sense.
She moved toward the bedroom door.
“Faster, sweetie, we haven’t got all night.”
She practically ran downstairs and through to the dining room, which was directly beneath the terrace outside their bedroom window. Unlike the kitchen and their bedroom, the dining room didn’t have full length sliding doors, but had an ordinary window that ran the whole width of the room. She walked through the archway from the kitchen and flicked the overhead light on.
“Good girl. Put the wall lights on too, please, so the room is
fully lit.”
Without really thinking, she did as she was told and laid the phone handset down on the table.
“Come and stand between the table and the window.”
Delia tried to rationalise her actions, but obeyed without hesitating, still convinced it was her husband giving her the instructions, just not sure how.
“Good, now stretch your arms out above your head.”
As she did so, the skirt, which was quite short on her anyway, rode up her thighs.
Why worry about it, you’ve already shown him everything, anyway?
“Nice. You really do have great legs, Delia. It’s a pity I didn’t put pom-poms in the box, you could have shown me some high kicks.”
“Not without the proper panties I couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t you? Why not? You’re not exactly performing at Mile High stadium, are you? Just you and your private audience. Now bend over, facing the window.”
She blushed as she realized the truth of his words and did as she was told. The top immediately hung down away from her breasts and she was certain she was providing a good view down her cleavage.
“Nice. But I suspect you’re starting to feel a little hot in there, aren’t you? You look a little flushed.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, I don’t think you are. I think you need to lose some of the clothing to feel better, don’t you?”
Delia licked her lips nervously. She’d been pretty sure it was going to come down to this, the moment she saw the contents of the box. She realized the flush on her cheeks wasn’t simply from embarrassment—the whole situation was having a major effect on her libido, a very positive one. Her nipples were hard as pebbles inside her bra and she could feel the dampness of her moist panties pressing against her bare pussy.
God! He’s got me so turned on!
“Why don’t you lose the top?”
She shuddered at the prospect of displaying the thin underwear once more but couldn’t find a reason for defiance so lowered her hands to the hem and started to slowly pull it up.
“Nice, take it slow.”
Delia noticed the camisole was rising with the top so quickly adjusted her grip to leave it down, but continued to pull the top up. It snagged on her breasts for a moment then popped free, and she was acutely aware of her breasts jiggling in the minimal support bra she was wearing. The camisole slid back down into position, the thin see-through fabric whispering against her skin, sending another shiver through her body as physical sensation piled on top of mental sensation.
She dropped the top behind her onto the table top, and quickly checked the headset was still in place.
“Now what?”
“Don’t you think that’s a silly question?”
She shook her head.
“Well, I think it is—tell me why are you breathing so heavily?”
Delia gave him the bird, or rather made the obscene gesture through the window to where she imagined the man to be. He just laughed, the headset only slightly distorting the sound.
“I can see your nipples are hard. Are they really hard, Delia?”
“Yes.”
She bit off the reply but he continued as if she’d not bothered to respond.
“Touch them. Tell me how hard they are.”
Almost despite herself, Delia lifted her hands from her sides and gently cupped the underside of her breasts, not fully willing to follow his instructions to the letter. The feel of her skin sliding across the fabric covering her made her gasp and she closed her eyes as she hefted her breasts, letting her hands support the weight of them.
“Go on.”
Her fingers crept higher until they touched the even more sensitive nipples. Her whole body shook from the power of the reaction and she cupped and squeezed them as he chuckled through the earpiece. Delia’s legs felt weak—she’d never masturbated standing up and, when her husband made a move on her, she’d always had him to support her. Now she had only her own strength to keep her upright, and she wasn’t sure she could remain standing for long.
“Good girl. I knew you were turned on. Why don’t you lose the skirt?”
Again her hands moved, reluctantly letting go of her breasts and moving down to her waist, then around to the small of her back to undo the clip and zip on the skirt. She pushed it down over her hips, mindful of not catching the panties, and allowed it to slither down her long legs.
“Move closer to the window.”
She was automatically following his instructions now, surrendering her free will in an effort to achieve release from the sexual heat building ever higher within her. Delia came to a stop about six inches from the window, peering out into the darkness trying to locate her tormentor, but could see nothing.
“That camisole looks nice, but I think you’d look nicer without it, don’t you?”
Her breathing became even more ragged as she whipped the filmy garment up and over her head, dropping it to the floor behind her, knowing she was now only wearing a transparent set of underwear that covered nothing.
“Very nice. Come closer to the window.”
She continued to obey, this time stopping only just short of the glass. She had to stretch one hand up above her head to lean it on the glass to provide the support her legs seemed unwilling to provide.
“I bet you want to plunge your fingers inside those panties and make yourself come, don’t you?”
She nodded, unwilling to speak to confirm such an act was now foremost in her thoughts.
“Not quite yet, my pretty. Not yet. Press yourself against the glass.”
She moaned into the microphone as she did so, the cold of the glass shocking against the fevered heat of her body. She pressed harder against the glass, molding her breasts and belly against the unyielding surface, knowing her flattened breasts made obscene circles on the glass. She was gasping for breath now, in between moans, as he chuckled into her ear.
Delia knew his next instruction would be to lose the bra and didn’t wait for him, overcome with a sudden desire to press her hardened nipples against the cold surface. Her one free hand moved behind her back and he fell silent as she flicked the catch on the bra open, feeling the straps around her back and over her shoulders loosen.
She pushed on her other hand, breaking contact with the window, and then lowered her hand to allow the straps to slither off both shoulders and, a moment later, the bra joined the camisole on the floor behind her. She desperately wanted to press herself against the glass once more, but there was one more item of clothing to discard and her hands dropped to her waist once more, pushing the thin scrap of fabric down her hips. She smiled into the darkness, noticing he’d fallen silent but knew it was now all about her, about attaining the release she desperately wanted. She didn’t care about him anymore—she wanted the orgasm her own body promised was just around the corner. The panties whispered down her legs and she kicked her feet clear of them before taking a deep breath and resuming her position.
Her breasts flattened against the cold glass of the window, but this time her free hand was sandwiched between her legs, her fingers automatically searching out, and finding, her engorged lips.
“Good girl. Keep going.”
She wasn’t going to stop, even if he said so. Two fingers parted her pussy lips while the middle one dipped into her slit, coating itself in her free-flowing juices as her thumb searched for her erect clit.
“Please let me come! Please let me come!
Her prayers seemed to be answered when she heard the voice in her ear once more.
“Come for me, Delia. Come for me.”
She began to buck against her fingers, still keeping her breasts mashed and flattened against the glass—glass that was now misting from the sweat leaking off her body as her fingers flashed across and into her pussy.
“I’m cumming… God! I’m cumming…”
“Good girl.”
His laconic reply pushed her over the edge, her fingers churning as she screa
med out and the orgasm washed through her body, her nervous system sending flashes of information throughout her body. She went rigid as the powerful waves of pleasure rolled through her, her legs trembling as she tried to keep herself in the same position.
Gasping for breath, she slid down the window, before landing on the hardwood floor, legs akimbo and her face streaked with sweat as she gasped for breath.
“You look really fuckable like that.”
It took her a minute to get enough breath back to answer him.
“So why don’t you, Steve?”
He laughed again.
“I keep telling you I am not your husband… Besides…”
“Besides, what?”
“There’s still the other box.”
She glowered out into the darkness but could, of course, see nothing out there.
“Take your naked ass and tits, and the phone, upstairs and open the other box.”
Impulsively, she stuck her tongue out at the window but climbed to her feet and picked up the phone. Walking took a little effort but she made it to the bottom of the stairs and was grateful for the handrail for support.
“You can sponge down if you want, but no shower. We don’t have time.”
“Asshole.”
He laughed.
* * * *
Delia felt refreshed after five minutes in the bathroom, running a cool washcloth over her face, breasts and paying particular attention to her pussy and thighs. She stepped back into the bedroom and noticed she still hadn’t closed the curtains, but didn’t do anything about it.
The post orgasmic high left her feeling almost kittenish and playful rather than worrying about being nude in front of the floor to ceiling glass. She even went and sat on the bed, on the side facing the window and pulled the third box over to her, having already picked up the nail scissors to slit the tape which she did with quick, easy motions.
Inside the box was a black dress, made entirely of lace, short, and virtually see-through, together with a small black thong and a pair of thigh highs with lace trim around the top.
“Kinky sod!”