Author's Note:
See Pt. 1 for blurb. Also, if you haven't already read Pt. 1, I strongly recommend doing so before proceeding.
All sensuality (on page or otherwise) takes place between characters who are eighteen or older.
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Copyright © 2023 Jake Lazarus
All rights reserved.
This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the author (except for the use of brief quotations in a review).
This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, business, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Sixteen
Bruce
"I hate the suburbs," Bruce grumbled to himself as he made his way through the annoyingly underbrush-free rear portion of the trailer park. In the city, there were endless alcoves, vehicles and overpasses one could use for camouflage. In the jungle, things were even easier. He had never considered just how difficult the combination of low population density and diligent landscaping could make it for one such as himself to remain hidden.
He was finally nearing Reyna's apartment complex, after spending the last few hours carefully crossing several hundred meters of mostly open residential area. His slow progress was as much about getting the lay of the land, and internalizing the sounds of the night, as it was about stealth. Without using anything but his hearing, he knew that the Johnsons were struggling to put food on the table, thanks to a particularly extravagant night of online bingo on the part of Mrs. Johnson. He also knew that the Waters family was celebrating a promotion and the McElroys were considering extreme measures to convince Mrs. McElroys mother to return home. More importantly, he was as confident as he could be without a house-to-house search that no one was in the vicinity that did not belong.
He finally came within sight of Reyna's apartment building and stopped to look around. There was a pond behind the building, no doubt included for its visual attractiveness and not the fact that it was akin to a maternity ward for mosquitos, adjacent to a small playground and fenced-in dog exercise area. The building itself was relatively small, only a dozen units arranged over three floors. Reyna's was on the northwest corner, the lack of sunlight being the likely explanation for its availability.
As he watched, he spied movement within the unit. He knew right away it was Reyna because she had neglected to draw the curtains. She was carrying Alton on her back, much to the obvious delight of her passenger. The latter was wearing footie pajamas styled to look like a superhero and was brandishing the tube from a roll of paper towels like a sword. The scene tugged at a portion of Bruce's soul that he had thought long dead, and it brought him momentarily to a halt. The joy on the young boy's face was so complete, so pure, that he could not help but be moved.
Bruce was pulled from his reverie once they passed from view. He shook his head angrily and continued his trek. His destination was only another hundred meters. He had scoped it out after leaving the pre-school earlier that day. The spot gave him an unobstructed view of not only Reyna's apartment, but also all possible approaches. He knew he needed to be more careful than ever. The apartment building was surrounded by streetlights, and he would be visible to even the most unskilled observer if he failed to perfectly skirt the small amount of shadows between his present location and his destination. He was more diligent than ever, alternating between creeping along in an awkward squatting walk that minimized his silhouette while also retaining maximum mobility, and outright crawling whenever necessary.
He was wearing black utility pants and a dark grey Henley, having eschewed camouflage to prevent unwanted questions in case he found the need to intentionally interact with anyone. He was also wearing a low-profile satchel which was secured against his torso to prevent any jostling, not to mention making the bag's contents available in an instant. He hoped the aforementioned unplanned interaction did not take place as he had no desire to explain the satchel's contents to anyone.
He was nearly to his destination when he noticed movement in Reyna's apartment and glanced in that direction. He would later insist that he underwent what was akin to a religious experience. Above him, as though framed by some benevolent higher power, he saw Reyna enter a room and approach the window before stretching mightily. She then reached behind her back momentarily before slipping both hands into the sleeves of her top. Seconds later, both hands reemerged, the left hand taking her bra with it. The look of ecstasy on her face could only be described as near orgasmic. Putting her hands on her hips, she bent backwards to relieve the tension in her back. Her nurse's scrubs did little to hide the swell of her breasts, or the outline of her nipples, in this position. The sight was like nothing Bruce had ever seen. Her openness; her beauty; her devastating alluringness. Even in the multiple pasts he had quite effectively buried, he had never seen anyone who was even remotely as captivating as Reyna Lewiston. The angelic vision invaded his consciousness like a tidal wave, causing him to completely forget his mission, forget his training, and walk mindlessly in the direction of her window.
As he watched, her eyes met his. The spell he had been under was shattered instantly. He could hear the sound of her shouts through the window, even if he did not necessarily understand her words. She disappeared from view, the sound of her door slamming sounding throughout the complex seconds later. Bruce stood still beneath the light, not because he was still under her spell but because he knew the damage was done.
Before he saw her emerge from the building, he heard her voice call out, "I'm getting pretty sick of this shit, Bruce!" She stomped toward him, which produced the remarkable sight of her braless breasts bouncing beneath her top. His unrepentant stare was interrupted when she punched him in the chest and snapped, "Eyes up here, dumbass."
When he looked up, he saw the fire in her eyes and grinned despite the certain knowledge that it was a terrible idea. As expected, she noticed his expression and smacked him again, prompting him to murmur, "Stop that."
"Stop fucking stalking me!"
"I'm not stalking you," he continued calmly.
"Then why are you standing outside my apartment in the middle of the night staring at my boobs?"
"I think you know the answer to that."
"Which part?" she snapped. "The staring at my tits or the stalking me. Again!"
Bruce stood mute, belatedly glancing around to see if their presence had attracted any notice. When it became clear Reyna was waiting for a reply, he sighed and said, "You should really get back inside."
"Not until you answer my question."
Bruce's mind raced for a moment before he felt his training kick in again and calm was restored. He considered his situation dispassionately, asking himself what the most important objective was at this moment. He knew instantly that, more than anything else, he needed to get Reyna out of sight. To that end, he met her gaze and said, "If I promise to answer your questions, will you go back inside?"
"You're suggesting I invite you up? You presume too much, sir."
"I want you to get out of sight. You want answers. My proposal solves both problems." He gestured towards her apartment and added, "Shall we?"
"Fine," she huffed, before glaring at him and saying, "Don't let me catch you staring at my ass going up the stairs," before whirling to head back toward her apartment.
Bruce's eyes dropped to her backside as she stalked away from him before his brain could issue instructions to the contrary. He tore his gaze away immediately, but not before he noticed the magnificent way her nurse's scrubs highlighted her spectacularly shaped derriere. He shook his head and followed after her.
Upon reaching her apartment, she pointed at her couch and growled, "Sit."
He dutifully took a seat while she snatched a hoodie off the back of a chair in the dining room and pulled it on. She glanced down at her chest self-consciously before seeming to decide the garment provided sufficient insulation. She sat in a chair across from Bruce and stared at him expectantly.
At length, she said, "I'm waiting."
"I apologize for, as you said, staring at you," he said severely. "I have no excuse."
"You really think the thing I'm pissed about is you taking a peek?"
"You indicated that was the case."
"Drop the robot act," she huffed. "And answer the real question. Why are you
