A warm summer zephyr whips its way joyfully down the Terrace. It lifts skirt and coat hems in voyeuristic delight. I adore this time of year, and from my vantage point up here, I am queen. Most dismiss me as invisible in my shapeless clothing, with my nametag and cap that proclaim the company's name: "Krystal Kleen Windows". I abhor bad spelling, but I am an employee; who am I to tell my employers they are stupid?
I may be a window cleaner, but I am no fool. I know they do not see me. Not really. I am invisible, less than human, 'untermenschen' to them. But I care not. I own them in my own way. I know who conducts illicit meetings, illicit transactions and illicit affairs. I see all. I am a watcher of their lives; these Armani and Donna Karan-clad grey people.
With that warm breeze gently rocking my platform, I work with steady grace on the windows. It is a thoughtless effort that leaves me plenty of time for thinking...and watching.
I have a new partner in crime today. A rather good looking man by the name of Julian. Well, I think that is his name. I am terrible with names. It could easily have been George and I would not know. My last? Well, he couldn't keep up the pace. Quite undeveloped in his skills. Sad, really.
So here I am sponging the twentieth floor windows of the Richthoffer building with my partner, whose name might or might not be Julian. I was rinsing off the suds when the occupant of the office appeared, a glorious woman, tall and slender with Pre-Raphaelite curls, clad in expensive black wool. And with her was a handsome fellow, hair perfectly appointed and his suit, neatly pressed and tidy in these beginning hours.
I watch as she slams the guy against the door, hard enough for me to hear through the glass, and kisses him hard on the mouth, dragging his jacket off his shoulders and pressing her groin against his.
I cannot help but smile as I watch, and my voice is unfamiliar to me as I call to my partner. It holds a huskiness that is not normally there, a 'come hither' quality that can catch a man by the groin and does not let go with its red tipped long fingernails and soft tantalizing fingers.
"S'up?" he asks, his drawl caught by the wind and whipped away as his jaw drops open, "Holy..."
Men. Show them a porno and they get all slack jawed and glaze eyed. Although, my own baby blues were wide behind the black wraparound sunglasses that obscured. There was a soft 'splat' as a soaking cloth hit the deck of the rig. I looked at it in some amusement, and at Julian's face.
Things had raised several degrees indoors. His leg was between hers, and she was rubbing herself insistently. Their tongues dueled impressively and his hands were investigating places that might have got him slapped in junior school, but seemed most welcome here.
"Well," I drawl idly, sneaking a glance at Julian, "Glad someone is having fun." A glance downward revealed that my rig mate was having a bit of fun too. The sponge he had been soaping the windows with had fallen to his feet with a wet splat, coating the left shoe with foamy bubbles. I lick my lips as a rather delicious thought comes to mind.
Our uniform consists of a warm, windproof jacket that zips in front, and really attractive waterproof pants. The whole effect resembles the Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters, but it keeps me dry. I reach for the zip that does up the front and slide it down so the curve of my breasts shows in the V. I wear a bra beneath these jackets, not much else. Summer is too nice to overdress.
I step in front of Julian, breaking his eye contact with the scene on the other side of the glass, and reach for his own zipper. I lick my lips again, this one more calculated. Sure enough, his eyes follow the red tip of my tongue as it moistens the soft pillow of my lower lip. He stills, like a bunny caught in the headlights of an oncoming car...hell, make it a truck. I slide the zipper down and find that he wears a plain white t-shirt under his jacket. I slide my hands across his chest, smoothing across the rather impressive display of muscle. This boy works out. Nice. I love a well toned man. I look up at him, only needing to tilt a few degrees, his eyes are at the level of my forehead, but certainly aren't checking out the freckles of my nose. He is well and truly focused on my breasts.
"Touch them," I lean forward and whisper huskily into his ear. With pleasure I witness a rash of goose bumps appear on his neck, and as a reward I lick his neck.
I feel the cool, rough skin of his fingers trace the silken smoothness of my breasts. There is a faint tremble in them as I place a kiss at the base of his throat. I can feel his pulse through my lips.
"Tell me. What are they doing?" I ask, as my tongue tastes the faint salt of his skin, drinking in his scent, a glorious combination of sunshine, a hint of citrus aftershave and the building musk of arousal.
"She..." his voice catches in his throat, and he has to clear it, "She has her hand down the front of his pants, his head is thrown back and she is kissing his bare chest."
"Mmmmm, like this?" my fingertips, still steady, slides the zipper all the way down and releasing it, I skim the elastic of the pants, sliding my own fingers within, and I demand another answer, "Does he look like he is enjoying it?"
Julian can do barely more than nod, as my fingers encircle the hardness within, and trail upwards teasingly.
"What is she doing now?" I do not bother to look behind me, I just wait, slowly pumping with my hand, the other exploring the musculature of his back. A blast of wind rocks the platform and plucks my hat from my head, causing the locks of brown hair to tumble downward. I do not miss a beat.
"She..." he gasps, his eyes closing.
"Keep your eyes open or I stop..." I lean close and whisper again, my hand stilling. I am such a tease. His eyes snap open as I expect, "What is she doing?"
"She is kneeling," his eyes are locked on the scene, "Taking him in her mouth. Sucking on him." He looks down at me with surprise in his eyes, as I disappear from his line of sight, to kneel. The rig rocks gently in the wind. I lower the waistband of his pants and gaze upon him with slumberous eyes. Not bad at all. Better than I expected. I look up at him.
