Peeping Tom

by Rachelle Le Monnier

  With one hand, I brushed across the narrow strip of blonde hair that hid my feminine secrets, and delved into the slick heat of my pussy. It felt so good to touch myself. The idea that somebody was watching my lewd show added even more of a spice to the familiar act. Eager fingers slid inside as I wantonly opened my legs.

  My clit was begging for some attention and I eagerly touched it, my fingers sticky with juices. How I wished I had a lover here, lapping me with his talented tongue. I had really missed that – my ex husband may have been a total louse, but he had his uses at times. This time, unfortunately, I was forced to rely on my imagination as my fingers flew across my throbbing pussy, relentlessly pushing me towards a climax.

  I writhed helplessly on my sun lounger, one hand between my legs, the other massaging my tits. Small sounds of pleasure escaped my parted lips as my mind painted all kinds of depraved scenarios. I only hoped that if it was Tom watching, he was enjoying this as much as I.

  The tension built inexorably and I bit my lip as I came, the rush of pleasure so intense that for a moment I saw bright stars behind my eyelids. Right at the pinnacle of my ecstasy, I thought I heard a groaning sound, but I was too lost to pay much attention. My whole body shuddered with the force of my orgasm and I could do nothing but lie there, shaking as the aftershocks slowly faded away.

  I stayed motionless for a while, sated, my secretions drying to a sticky residue on my inner thighs as the sun continued to bore down on me relentlessly. It was one of those moments when life felt good, although if I were being totally honest, I would have enjoyed a male body to enjoy the afterglow with.

  But sadly that wasn’t to be. I just hoped that my voyeur was suitably worn out from my lascivious show. It wasn’t as if I would ever find out if it really was Tom anyway - I couldn’t imagine him casually admitting to spying on me. He didn’t know me well enough to take that risk.

  * * * *

  I was half way up the stairs that night, heading for bed, when I heard something slither across the tiled floor in the hallway. Immediately I stopped and listened intently. Whilst the light was on above me, I had already switched the downstairs lights off and the hallway was in inky darkness.

  There was no choice but to go and investigate. I padded back down the tiled steps and switched the hall light on. I saw it straight away. A large manila envelope had apparently been shoved under the miniscule space beneath my front door.

  I was mystified. Since the hour was late, it was obviously not a post delivery and besides, there was a box on the wall outside for any post I might receive. Consumed with curiosity, I picked the envelope up and opened it. Three photographs slid out and fell on to the floor.

  My cheeks burned when I realised what – or rather who - the subject was. The photographs had obviously been taken this afternoon, whilst I was lying in the sun, pleasuring myself.

  The first picture showed me, my face clearly visible, applying oil to my breasts. The second showed me lying down with my legs parted, my head thrown back as I masturbated. The third, and easily the most explicit, was a close-up view of my fingers, deep inside my open pussy as the moisture glistened invitingly.

  My body was on fire, uneasily caught in a place somewhere between ashamed embarrassment and white-hot excitement. But I still didn’t know for sure who had taken these pictures. Whilst the obvious suspect was Tom, he hadn’t exactly left a business card inside the envelope.

  Hurriedly I shoved the photos back inside the envelope, anxious not to leave them laying around in case anyone saw them. I had no idea what might happen next, but I hoped that something would.

  * * * *

  “I thought we could catch some lunch after shopping,” said Jane as she grabbed her purse.

  “Good idea,” I smiled, already looking forward to a cool glass of wine. Shopping wasn’t my favourite pastime, but since I had promised to show Jane around, I was resigned to a morning of credit card bashing.

  “Is there room for one more?” asked a voice from the doorway.

  We both turned to see Tom lounging there, a tight tee-shirt showing off his muscular physique to perfection.

  I managed to resist the urge to drool and threw him a polite smile instead.

  “Why on earth would you want to wander around shops, darling?” asked his mother with a frown. “I thought you were heading down to the beach.”

  He shrugged. “Just thought I’d buy a few things, souvenirs and stuff – but if you’d rather I didn’t come…” His voice trailed off and he pulled a mournful expression.

  “Okay, if you really want to come, I’m sure Stella won’t object.” She looked at me with one eyebrow raised, but I nodded agreeably.

  “He can carry all the bags for us,” I said flippantly and she smiled with relief.

  We headed outside and piled into their hire car, leaving Stuart with his pile of English newspapers and a beer.

  * * * *

  The picturesque old town was crowded with tourists, all seeking out elusive bargains, their flesh painfully pink from too much sun and sangria. I was cool beneath my large hat and my eyes remained hidden behind dark shades.

  Every once in a while I caught Tom staring at me as we wandered through the narrow streets, but mostly he stayed annoyingly silent as we dragged him in and out of endless clothing and jewellery shops.

  “Nice camera,” I commented as we browsed inside a leather goods boutique while Jane haggled over a fake designer handbag.

  He looked down at the expensive digital camera that hung loosely around his neck. “Yep, it is,” he said. “Takes excellent close up shots though.”

  His eyes held mine for a few seconds longer than was polite and I felt my cheeks growing pink as I recalled the detail I’d seen in the photographs of me.

  “Not much use if you’re taking pictures of the pretty scenery,” I said as I picked up a rather cheap looking belt and examined it with far more interest than it deserved.

  “I guess that depends on your definition of pretty scenery.” He gave me a slow smile as his gaze slid down my body like a hot flush. My nipples hardened instantly and the air choked in my lungs. I couldn’t breath, my pussy throbbed with delicious anticipation…and I wanted him.

  “What a bargain!” Jane trilled happily as she thrust her new handbag in my direction.

  Tom turned away and pretended to look at some purses while I fought to contain my arousal. “It’s…lovely,” I said with fake enthusiasm.

  Fortunately Jane was too excited to notice my flushed cheeks. “Come on,” she said, “I think it’s time for some food.”

  “Excellent plan,” Tom agreed. “I really need to eat something.” He licked his lips suggestively as Jane examined her receipt, and I nearly fainted.

  They walked outside, chatting, leaving me in the cool air-conditioned shop trying to recover my sense of decorum. It wasn’t easy.

  * * * *

  By the time we been shown a table on the terrace of a quiet café-restaurant, I had resolutely brought myself back into the land of the living. Jane took a seat opposite me while Tom chose the seat beside me. I would have found it easier had he not taken a seat at all and disappeared, but it seemed he had every intention of teasing me some more.

  “What do you fancy?” asked Jane as we scanned the menus.

  “I have a few ideas,” murmured Tom in a low voice. “Maybe some fish,” he said brightly in response to his mother’s question. “They have grilled sea bass as a special.”

  “That would be nice,” Jane agreed with a delighted smile. “What about you, Stella?” she then asked, turning in my direction.

  My appetite had mostly deserted me, but it would look odd if I ate nothing. So I agreed to have the same in the hope that a bottle of chilled white wine would help the food go down swimmingly.

  We ordered our food and sat making light conversation. Tom kept his distance and after a while I began to relax, thinking that maybe I had imagined the whole thing. When the wine arrived, he politely poured me a gla
ss, then sat back and listened to his mother relating amusing stories about their previous holidays.

  I was acutely aware of Tom’s muscular thigh pressing against my own. Although there was plenty of room between the chairs, his chair had somehow been pushed right up against mine. His close proximity was causing me continuous palpitations and I began to feel more than a little claustrophobic.

  Eventually the food arrived and although it looked delicious, I could only pick at mine half-heartedly. Fortunately, Jane seemed oblivious to my inattention and she continued to hold up our conversation single-handedly. I did manage to say a few relevant things here and there, but for the most part I just nodded and made the occasional interested noises and murmurs.

  “Isn’t this nice!” she exclaimed cheerfully as I drank the rest of my glass of wine.

  “Isn’t it?” agreed Tom with a sly look in my direction. He pretended to drop his napkin on to his lap and when he reached down for it his hand briefly caressed my bare thigh.

  I jabbed a fork into a piece of fish and looked out of the window, resolutely trying to ignore the insistent ache that radiated out from my beleaguered pussy. With his own plate finally empty, Tom pushed it away and casually leaned back, one arm innocently snaking along the top of my chair.

  Immediately I tensed up. The fine hairs on the back of my neck prickled as I felt his fingers teasingly stroking my skin, just in the place where his mother couldn’t see. Or at least I hoped that she couldn’t. Somehow I felt certain she wouldn’t be all that impressed if she knew what was going on. She struck me as a rather over protective mother, one who vetted every woman her son even so much as looked at, before declaring them ‘wanton hussies’.

  When Jane had cleared her plate, she dabbed her lips with a napkin and stood, announcing that she needed to go and find the toilets. As soon as she was out of sight, I turned to Tom.

  “Don’t start what you can’t finish!” I warned him. I had had enough of this teasing. It wasn’t funny any more. Oh no. It was too damned frustrating.

  “What makes you think I’m not going to finish it?” he asked innocently.

  “I’m not looking for a holiday fling,” I hissed in a low voice. Although I had to admit the idea was mightily tempting.

  “Neither am I!” He looked highly aggrieved at the suggestion.

  I turned away, my confidence inexplicably deserting me for once. I suddenly realised I wasn’t sure if all this dangerous behaviour was worth upsetting the equilibrium I had fought so hard to attain. It had taken me nearly two years to come to terms with the horror that was my divorce, and I still bore the battle scars.

  Although I had found out in passing from Jane that Tom wasn’t much younger than me at thirty-two, he was still an unknown quantity. For all I knew he was married or otherwise attached. The subject had never arisen in the time I had spent in their company.

  “So why are you interested in me?” I asked, deciding to come straight to the point.

  “Because you’re a gorgeous and very sexy woman,” he said softly. “And you photograph very well,” he added.

  “So it was you spying on me!” I said, outraged, even though I had enjoyed it in a twisted kind of way.

  “It wasn’t intentional,” he said sheepishly, “At least not at first. But I promise I’ll delete the photographs from my camera, okay?”

  I was slightly mollified by his promise. At least he had some morals.

  “Do you make a habit of spying on strange women?” I asked.

  “No, not at all, but how could I resist the opportunity to observe a naked woman pleasuring herself?”

  I couldn’t be too annoyed; after all I had deliberately set out to tease him in the worst kind of way.

  He edged closer and I felt the room shrink until it was just the two of us, his blue eyes melting my inhibitions and obliterating any lingering doubts.

  “Have you ordered any dessert yet?” Jane’s strident voice caused us to jump apart as if we had been electrocuted and I wondered what, if anything, she had seen.

  “No, mum,” Tom replied tightly. He shifted uncomfortably and when I glanced down, I noticed the way his cotton shorts had tented at the front. I smiled inwardly at the knowledge I wasn’t the only one affected by our mutual attraction.

  “Well I fancy something sweet,” Jane declared cheerfully and proceeded to discuss all the dishes that were on offer.

  “I think I’ll pass,” Tom said eventually. “I can wait until tonight for something sweet,” he added as he threw me a meaningful glance.

  Hot desire shot through me like a bolt of lightening and I rubbed my thighs together, helpless to prevent the sudden gush of moisture that soaked my knickers.

  I could hardly wait.

  * * * *

  Once back in the solitude of my villa, I paced around like a deranged woman. Tom had said nothing when we arrived back from our shopping expedition, although Jane had mentioned she and Stuart were heading out later that evening to meet some friends for a drink. She had hinted that I would have been welcome to join them, but the thought of making more polite conversation with a bunch of strangers was abhorrent to me.

  All I could think about was Tom. Even though I had a whole list of reasons why I really shouldn’t even entertain the idea of spending five minutes alone in his company, my body was determined to ignore each and every one of those reasons. I was obsessed. What had started as a game had seriously backfired on me.

  It was ridiculous – he hadn’t laid a finger on me, yet I was completely consumed with lust. I just had to hope that for all his teasing, he really was going to finish what he started. If he didn’t then I was screwed – or not as it happened.

  * * * *

  The shower blasted me with a million tiny needles and I stood, my head hanging as the water flowed over my head. The tension of waiting to see what Tom’s next move was killing me. I felt like being a love struck teenager all over again, waiting for a crush to call and being practically chained to the telephone until they did.

  I hadn’t felt this paralysed for years and it was seriously un-nerving. I was a career woman with my own business; my life was my perfect in almost every way. Yet now, in the space of a few days, I had let a man under my skin and boy was I paying the price.

  The water turned tepid and I switched the shower off, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my dripping body. The hour was growing late and it appeared Tom was not going to show. Despite my disappointment, part of me was relieved that I was not going to be tempted with something so reckless.

  And it would be reckless to have an affair with a man who was not only younger than me, but one who was currently staying next door. If it all went horribly wrong, I was doomed to hide in my villa until I went home - hardly an ideal finale to my relaxing holiday.

  Rubbing my hair with the towel, I wandered out on to the balcony and gazed out across the bay. I couldn’t help but glance across towards next-door’s villa, but despite the terrace lights being on, it didn’t appear that Tom was around.

  Then I heard a faint rapping on the front door and I froze. There was only one person that it could possibly be. Acutely aware that my towel was not exactly covering much flesh, I tucked it around me regardless and hurried to answer the door.

  “Can I borrow a cup of sugar?” he asked, his black hair curling beguilingly over one blue eye.

  My heart thudded like a jackhammer in my chest, but I managed to fake an expression of bored indifference.

  “Is that all you want?”

  “Actually, no,” he replied with a predatory smile. Before I could move a muscle, he was kissing me, his lips pressing urgently against mine, bruising me with his intensity. I felt myself being pushed backwards until we were both inside the villa and the door had closed of its own accord.

  The sane part of my mind was screaming that I should stop this, now, but I was powerless to resist the sensual onslaught. I needed him like I had never needed anything or anyone so badly in my life.

&
nbsp; Just once won’t hurt, I thought, trying to justify my reckless abandonment of all things sensible.

  My body was betraying me despite my lingering doubts. With no conscious effort from me, my arms had wrapped around Tom’s neck and I was arching against him in a subliminal invitation. It was only his hands on my backside that were keeping my towel in place.

  Sure enough, as soon as he broke the kiss and stared at me, his eyes dark, the towel began to slide south. He must have felt it move for he looked down as the fluffy cotton slithered lower, revealing the swell of my tanned breasts, and he grinned.