My cousin, Rick, recently had a bit of an accident with his house leaving him with nowhere to stay while repairs were being done. If he'd had decent insurance then the insurance would have covered motel costs for the month required but the silly bastard was too cheap to buy decent insurance. As a side note - that same cheapness was what caused him to buy cheap land. I warned him that he was building on a flood plain but did he listen? Not so that you'd notice.
My mother, bless her generous heart, invited him and his wife to stay with us, rent free for the month, as we had the extra room available. All he had to do was chip in a bit for the utilities. I assume that he did so as my mother didn't raise any complaints and she would have if she thought she was being cheated. As well as having a heart of gold she had the soul of an accountant.
Like me, Rick was in his early twenties. He had a pretty solid physique, with a brain that was just as solid. (That last is just my personal opinion.) I didn't particular like him but I wouldn't say I disliked him, either. It was more that I felt a vast indifference where he was concerned.
On the other hand Rick certainly didn't like me. He thought that I was an effete dilettante and probably gay to boot. This was probably because of my profession. He was a builder's labourer, physically strong, with imposing muscles. I was a ballet dancer, slender and graceful. It never occurred to Rick that a ballet dancer does a lot of exercise, both on the stage and in practice. I think you'll find that a weak ballet dancer won't be able to catch a flying ballerina and lift her high before setting her down as gently as a daisy. That sort of thing takes muscle, skill, and a touch of finesse in your movements.
Donna, Rick's wife was what I considered a sweet young thing. Gentle of nature but with enough backbone to stand up to Rick when he got stroppy. Unlike Rick she was unfailingly polite to me but I never got past that incessant politeness to find out what she really thought of me. I was far too polite a host to goad her into losing her temper.
The show I'd been in had just closed and I had a week off before having to start rehearsing for the next one. That's why I was at home in the middle of the day. I'd been out to do some shopping and had got back to the house just after lunch. Rick was working and my Mother was at a women's club meeting doing whatever women do at those things, probably decrying the sins of their children and/or husbands. (That's husbands plural for some of the old biddies. I sometimes think they have a competition to see who can have the most. Mrs Fernwell, with four, was currently in the lead.) Anyway, I had the house to myself.
I was walking down to my room when I heard music and remembered Donna was probably home. Walking past the room she and Rick had I saw that the door was slightly ajar and I just naturally glanced in. Well, you do, don't you. Anyone walking past a room with an open door tends to look in.
Donna was standing there, back to the door, head tilted back slightly, her arms a little out from her sides. At first I thought she was just standing there but then I realised that she was slowly turning, her arms starting to stretch out as she moved. I just stood there, transfixed as she moved.
Um, did I mention that she was naked? Well she was, beautifully so. Long slender legs rising to meet a very nice bottom. A graceful back and neck with hair cascading over one shoulder. She was on tip-toes, legs slightly parted, as she rotated with minimal movement of her feet. It would probably be slightly crass of me to say that her legs ere parted just enough for me to distinctly see her sex.
I encouraged the door to open just a little more and stood there, propped against the door frame and watched her dance. I naturally expected her to see me as soon as she turned a little more. That, of course, would be the end of the show. It wasn't to be.
She slowly turned until I had a full on view. Her eyes were half closed and she was looking up slightly, which was probably why she missed seeing me. I certainly didn't miss seeing her. Grace and beauty, freely displayed before me. Her mons was clean shaven, her skin looking smooth and white. Her breasts stood high and firm, delicately tipped with pink, her nipples prominent. I wondered at that last for a moment and then the reason became apparent.
As she turned and undulated in her sensual little dance her hands were also drifting over her body, lightly touching herself. From the look of her she was only using the lightest of touches but they were certainly enough to get her aroused.
She danced on, a houri dancing to attract her Sultan, a sensuous sylph placed there to delight a man.
I must have watched this vision of delight for about five minutes before she finally noticed me. Maybe I moved or something, but her eyes suddenly snapped wide and she looked at me in shock.
"You are absolutely beautiful," I told her. "Come."
I held out a hand as I moved towards her, pleased when she lifted her hand and placed it in mine. Moving closer I also moved around her, having her turn to keep facing me. Now, however, it was my hand that was gently stroking her as she danced.
Maybe I stroked her just a little more intimately that she'd been touching herself because she suddenly gasped and snatched her hand out of mine. Taking a step back she tried to hide behind her hands, a useless endeavour.
"How long?" she demanded.
I ignored my evil mind and assumed she meant how long had I been watching.
"About five minutes," I told her. "Five wonderfully enchanting minutes. You had me spellbound from the first glimpse."
She glanced at the door and I just knew she was going to accuse me of opening it so I got in first.
"You really should have made sure your door was closed but I'll be forever thankful that you didn't. That sort of display really deserves an appreciative audience and that's me. Totally appreciative."
"You should have closed the door and walked on by," she said, a little bit of that backbone starting to show.
"Are you insane? I'm certainly not and I'd have to be to miss that show. You look ridiculous trying to hide behind your hands. I've already seen everything so I don't know what you're trying to protect."
Even as I was telling her she looked ridiculous I was reaching out and gently moving her hands. With that done my own hands replaced hers, once more gently moving over her.
"Why are you looking at me anyway? You're gay, remember?"
