Knee lift after knee lift, Phoebe exercised with a passion, right in front of young Alfred Alberts.
"Hit Me With Your Best Shot" by Pat Benatar rocked from the big boombox sitting on the love seat.
"I-I like your leotard," Alfred stammered, having to force words out.
"Thank you, Alfred," she chuckled. "Phew, that was a workout."
She finally took a break, turning the radio off.
Phoebe was house sitting again for the Alberts family. Alfred's family had gone to the Jersey shore for the week, and he stayed behind only because of a summer science project he was working on for school.
The five-bedroom house seemed so empty during the family's absence, but Phoebe's presence surely breathed live back into it.
"You have incredible legs," Alfred felt compelled to say, the skinny, shy 18-year-old so mesmerized by the 22-year-old beauty.
"Thank you," she said sincerely, offering him a sweet smile.
Suddenly, the front door whooshed open.
"What are you two dorks doing?" asked Brenda, Phoebe's kid sister.
Brenda was Alfred's age, and the two were often bickering and razzing each other.
"We were trying to have an intelligent conversation, until you came in," he shrugged.
"Now you two get along now," Phoebe kidded.
Alfred made a pitcher of iced tea and the three hung out by the pool for a bit. It had rained that afternoon so the water seemed a bit too cold for swimming.
When night fell, they headed in for the evening, watching the fireflies as they retreated into the kitchen.
*****
They flipped through channels in the family room, casually watching television until Phoebe offered a suggestion.
The bodacious brunette glanced over at Brenda, and asked if she wanted to watch the foreign film she borrowed from her friend.
Brenda nodded, and Phoebe carefully slid the tape out of its case and into the VCR.
Phoebe didn't even ask Alfred if he would like to see the film, so it made it like the two sisters were oblivious to his presence.
The drama slash action film had fast pacing from the start, and halfway through, it had - in addition to bullets flying everywhere and a rising body count - something greatly unexpected.
Brenda burst out laughing. And Phoebe smiled brightly.
"Holy shit," Brenda gushed, surprised by the candid filmography.
"Full frontal male nudity isn't frowned upon over there like it is here," Phoebe casually said.
Alfred squirmed every which way in his seat. His stomach churned and his heart raced.
He was so embarrassed, felt defeated, felt overpowered by the women. The fact that they were celebrating the male anatomy, also poking fun at it along the way, made his face flush a deep shade of red.
All that said...he loved it. He loved this feeling. Nervousness gave way to an overwhelming feeling of arousal.
Phoebe even glanced over at Alfred with a smile, seemingly teasing him a bit.
She could sense his uneasiness turned into excitement.
When the film was over, despite all of the great special effects and explosions, the talk in the family room was about the hefty dose of male nudity. Not only the fact there was no female nudity whatsoever in the film, but the concept of it being so different and so rare a concept, stimulated a lengthy conversation.
Alfred just sat there, a fly on the wall. But loving it.
"There were really long stretches where you could see...," Brenda said with a beaming smile, trailing off, no doubt what she was referring to.
"Yeah, like I said, it's not THAT big a deal in French films," Phoebe explained, casually turning the channel to Carson.
The three watched some late-night TV for a bit, then headed up to bed.
But the night was not over.
*****
Alfred stood in the dark of the bathroom, his heart pounding.
This was it.
He was finally going to do it.
He just couldn't control himself any longer and he wanted to experience his first moment of exhibitionism.
He had been dreaming of this for some time, the gorgeous, self-assured Phoebe the object of his focus.
But oh God was he so nervous.
Would she yell at him? Would she...punch him? Oh God I hope not, he pondered.
No, Phoebe wasn't that type.
Would she run out of the room screaming?
And then there's that. Yeah...that. How would she react to...that?
Oh no, he could hear her coming up the steps. She would definitely be using the bathroom to brush her teeth before shoving off to bed.
The footsteps, light and easy, nevertheless drew closer.
He could picture her in her pajama shorts and top, her big, tan thighs spurring his imagination.
He had to control his breathing. Short, light breaths intensified into deeper ones.
He heard the twist of the door knob.
And just as it opened, a delicate hand reached out and flicked the light switch.
He squinted at the light.
So too did Phoebe, but almost instantly she saw Alfred standing there, and already was startled.
She jumped back a bit, then looked down, seeing Alfred was shirtless and had his pajama pants and underwear all the way down at his ankles.
She gasped again with what she saw, a small but noticeable chuckle escaping her lips.
Her head turned a bit, unsure of whether or not to believe her own eyes.
She looked him in the eyes, then looked back down. She looked into his eyes again, then looked down.
"Alfred Alberts," she laughed, shaking her head.
She then stepped forward with authority and tugged him gently but forcefully by the ear.
"Ouch, ouch, ouch, Phoebes," he squealed, as she tugged him out of the bathroom and all the way down the hallway and into his room, giving no regard to his nudity.
Luckily, Brenda was sound asleep.
"Get in your room and stay there," she playfully scolded him, shutting the door behind her.
He did it! He finally did it! He lived it!
Alfred Alberts was finally an exhibitionist. But he didn't know how to feel about it.
Did Phoebe hate me? Hate is probably too strong a word.
Was she mad at me though? Oh God, would she tell my parents?
They were gonna be home the next morning!
He just wanted to bury his head in the sand and hide.
Flasher's remorse, he thought to himself.
He was so embarrassed now and felt so naughty, but underneath that was a certain feeling of sweet submissiveness.
*****
Everyone had breakfast together the next morning.
Alfred's parents and his two older brothers were there, along with the next-door neighbor, Sally.
Brenda and Phoebe were both there, and Alfred sat quietly in his seat, petrified.
His parents even asked Phoebe directly how Alfred behaved in their absence, playfully treating the 18-year-old like he was a little kid.
"Oh Alfred is always good," she smiled, giving him a warm glance. "Just wish he wasn't so quiet!"
His parents both grinned, saying he had always been shy.
Soon, breakfast was over, and Alfred ran for the hills - actually, his bedroom.
For the moment, he was safe. He felt Phoebe had let him off the hook.
A light knock came at the door.
He slowly opened it.
It was Phoebe, in her aqua-blue tank top and white, cotton shorts.
