While the weathermen had been calling for it all day, when the thunderstorm erupted over the city she found herself surprised. The air, at first thick with humidity and hot even for July, was now filled with the cascading rain. Warm drops of water pelted her, soaking through the thin material of her patterned sundress and causing it to cling to the luscious slopes and planes of her body.
Within minutes of the downpour's beginning, the busy sidewalk traffic had cleared and she found herself nearly alone, a bag from the Galleria in each hand and not an umbrella to be had. Standing there, it was almost like being in her shower at home, the water, almost as warm. The coal grey clouds that had swept in so quickly, blocking the sun and throwing the midday city into wet darkness was like having your curtains closed at sunrise; there was light but you could not see where from. A jagged arc of lightning danced on the horizon followed by a rumbling boom which reminded her that she was outside and that her car was still a few blocks away.
Kicking off her wedge sandals---also new--- she picked them up with one hand and barefoot began quickly walking toward her car.
Perhaps, with all this preoccupation, it was understandable why she never noticed the man behind her, standing still and silent his eyes bright and fixed on her as if in blinking he ran the risk of losing sight of her forever. He had stopped when she had, and now that she was moving once again, he followed quietly, his longer stride easily keeping pace with hers...
Smiling broadly as she got to the side of her car, the last left in the small parking lot, she reflexively reached for her purse and the keys they held. As the echo of another bolt of lightning rolled into the distance, the woman realized her hand was grasping empty space: her purse was not over her shoulder.
Immediately frantic she set both bags on the pavement and sifted through all the folds of new clothing, hoping that she had put her purse there to carry it more easily.
No luck.
The rain suddenly seemed to increase in volume then as she cursed under her breath and knelt trying to figure out how she'd managed to remember to bring her bags but forgotten her purse. The falling water had made her skin slick while her dress clung heavily to every line.
She found that in the midst of this distress she was oddly happy that no one was around to help. If they had been, they would have been treated to the sight of her sloping breasts capped by her thick, plum-colored nipples straining against her soaked and now nearly sheer dress, breasts unencumbered on this sticky day by a bra.
The firm curve of her ass was hardly any more restrained, the cleft between her creamy ass cheeks defined by the barely there nothingness of the dental floss thin strands of a "Brazilian thong". Cursing again as she realized her precious cellular phone for use in emergencies was---like her wallet and keys---in her absent purse she was suddenly aware of footsteps behind her. Or, more accurately, of footsteps stopping behind her. She was not alone.
She spun around somewhat awkwardly, looking up through her strands of wet hair at the shadowy figure in front of her. All around the storm roared but somehow, at that moment, it seemed eerily silent to her. Slowly, she backed up against her car, rising to face him.
He continued to watch and she felt so naked and exposed under his unwavering stare, so much so that a blush radiated from her cheeks outward and down, across the creamy swells of her breasts and beyond.
"It never rains but it pours..." he said almost prophetically, his voice seeming to come from far away as she pulled herself suddenly upright.
"Yes, Sir," she agreed sheepishly, wondering how long she'd been watched.
