This idea came to me whilst listening to a song of the same name. However, I have twisted it to fit my own needs. Also, a fellow author, Bdubnaughty, sort of pushed this idea forward for me. So, thank you for the support. This may or may not be a long standing fantasy of mine (wink wink). It's a short, fun story but I do have plans to write more for it because, again, I like stories like this. Plus, it will tie in with my others as well. Enjoy.
-E
*****
Tara fell face first into her large bed.
She exhaled heavily and rolled over, staring up at her ceiling. Was this job really worth it? Was being a pediatric nurse her true dream? Yeah, if you count taking care of snot nosed brats and dealing with stupid young mothers who didn't believe in vaccinations then sure, it was a dream to be had.
Four years of college only to end up coming home with vomit and some blood from a little twit who couldn't handle a damn needle while being on her feet for ten hours. She hated kids. Just despised them. Never wanted to have any of her own and yet all of her friends had kids or at least were pregnant and barefoot. No thank you. Pregnancy freaked her the fuck out. She wanted to adopt.
That was her preference. Being halfway to fifty and single, it sure as hell was looking like she'd need adoption if she were to not die alone. Her ex didn't want to abide by her wishes and would constantly tear down her dreams and wants, telling her how stupid she was for even thinking that way. Sometimes he would hide her birth control pills so she couldn't take them. Like he wanted her stuck with him for forever. He didn't support her idea of adopting a baby, kid, teen, whatever.
Well, she couldn't help it; she wanted to provide a loving home for someone who had lost everything. Like when she adopted her cat last summer, after he'd been abused by a previous owner.
Mr. Lebowski lounged on the end of her bed, paws splayed outward, tail swishing slowly back and forth. His cute face peered at her over her crumpled purple comfortable, whiskers twitching with his nose. He was a handsome little guy, about three, and he was massive. A Maine Coon, primarily gray and white with some golden patches, he looked like a tiny white tiger. She found him after she dumped her ex at the local animal shelter, ran by the sweetest and hot girl with dark hair and bright gray eyes.
It had been almost a year since she'd last had sex. And it was with him. The scumbag who'd hit her and talked poorly down to her. He'd only struck her once and she was out, done with his bullshit, done with the lies and verbal abuse, done with the pettiness. But the one thing she missed about him most was the sex. God, it was amazing. He may have been psychotic and controlling even but he was a saint in the bed. Well, as far as she knew because he was her second, having lost her virginity in the bed of a pickup the night of her senior prom.
She hadn't dated much in college and met him the start of her junior year. He was sweet and handsome with ear-length black hair and light brown eyes. Then, once he hooked her after six months of dragging her along with promises of "eventually dating" and a "future" he became something else entirely different. A monster almost, dictating what she wore and who she went out with. Well, after two years of that, she gave him the boot when he got the balls to slap her during an intense fight.
Fuck that.
She did the most reasonable thing any girl would do: she left him a note with the drawing of a middle finger along with the words "fuck you" written in red. She left it on the pillow next to him while he slept, grabbed her bags, and headed out the door to a friend's.
"Goodbye, to you," she murmured. Had it not been for that wake up call, she probably would have never graduated being he promised her she wouldn't need school or work. Of course that was a big, fat lie. His paychecks sucked and he rarely paid for dinner. So, she stayed in school and kept her part time job just to play it safe. Thankfully, it all worked out in the end.
She glanced at her watch. It was almost eight and she was exhausted, happy though that she was off for the weekend. But, the thoughts of her ex had feelings stirring within her, ones that had her desire skyrocketing. She was incredibly horny and wanted to have sex to just have it regardless if she got off or not.
Sighing, she stood and crossed over to her bedroom window, the one that faced an apartment building across the small street and opened her blue curtains. Her window was adequately sized, floor to ceiling, while the one in the other apartment had a huge bay window leading into a studio apartment. That window was tinted slightly but she could still see the faint light of a lamp illuminating the massive bed with black sheets. It was in front of a wall that didn't run the entire length of the apartment but instead cut off at the ends in that modern way.
And on the bed was a man reading a book.
Smirking, she knew he was pretending to read that book. To her, he seemed innocent, eyes glancing down at the pages while she could tell he watched her in the shadows. She stood in front of her window for a minute, acting as if she was looking out onto the street and started to pull her top off, throwing it to the side and rubbing her breasts.
She didn't have overly large breasts, a mid-C, if that but they were perky and stood out from her chest like two proud melons. She admired them, her blue eyes looking down at the pert things. She took off her shirt and stretched her arms high above her head forcing her tits outward even more from her sternum. She was clad in only her green scrub bottoms that sat low on her flat stomach. She eventually peeled them off, being left in a pink thong.
She faced away from the window and bent at the waist to retrieve the mess and throw it into her hamper, making sure her rear end faced the window. Turning back around, she noticed the man had moved closer to the window and was practically panting, bulge evident in his silk bottoms. She pretended not to notice his binoculars and just kept going about doing what she normally did when she knew he watched her. He was shirtless, muscles gleaming in the low light but he was also older too. She wasn't sure because they had never met but he did sport salt and pepper hair. More on the salt side.
Feigning innocence, she slipped out of her thong and sat on the edge of her bed, the side that faced him.
Now, this may seem strange but ever since she moved into this apartment, she noticed the man across the way would watch her at night. And this turned her on a lot. Like it shouldn't because it was creepy but she couldn't resist the urge to give him a show. The first night she noticed him watching, he pretended he wasn't but she only smiled and closed the curtains, knowing he didn't know. And how she knew he didn't know was because she never once showed the knowledge nor did she call the cops or speak to him. Plus, before she got to the good parts, she'd close the curtains.
So, she typically would act like she didn't notice him watching her until her but tonight, tonight she didn't care.
She trailed her fingers over her tummy down to the trimmed patch between her thighs. She was soaked as she slipped a digit into her cunt, feeling it expand from the intrusion. She did have toys but she didn't like using them. She preferred the real thing. Spreading her knees apart, she rubbed harder and faster at her clit, throwing her head back, she cried out at the ecstasy. She rocked into her own hand, moaning and nearly screaming. She slid her eyes to her window and saw a figure close to his own window, breath fogging up the glass as he watched. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pretended she didn't see him and smiled, knowing she was caught.
Some nights, he would stand by his window, hand down his pants as he either watched her strip or masturbate. It turned her on incredibly and she couldn't help herself. Plus, it's not like they would act on this fucked up fantasy and relationship. But then again, she never allowed him to watch her this long so possibly, she wanted it more than anything. She shrugged and continued.
She was so close. The idea of a man watching her fuck herself constantly really turned her on to the point where she couldn't stand it. She needed something else to help her out. Then, an idea struck her as she withdrew her fingers.
There was a bar at the end of the street.
Tonight, she would get drunk, let loose, and possibly bring someone home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An hour and an outfit change later, obviously dressing for the man's pleasure in short shorts and a black tank, she entered the pub.
It was packed with college boys and couples.
She sat alone at the bar, chatting with the cute bartender who kept an eye on her. Being of average build but with nice breasts and an ass, she really didn't draw much attention. She had bleached her hair platinum to make her eyes pop but that only made her look younger. She sighed and tossed back a shot of tequila.
Another. And another. And another. Until the floor was wobbly and her nerves were numb.
She stood and chanced the dancefloor, somehow ending up grinding against a tall, muscular guy and his shorter friend. Both equally hot in that playboy/ prep boy sort of way, they were amazing dancers. And you know what they say about men who can dance.
They each shared turns with her, hands on her waist or in her hair. One even sucked the side of her neck. She moaned and leaned into them, feeling their erections through their rough jeans. Not too big but enough to get her going tonight. She ground her pelvis into one while her rump bounced against another's. She even made out with the taller guy while the shorter one watched and ran his hands over her.
This will be fun.
Eventually, they all stumbled to the bar and the guys bought her some more drinks. She was still understanding and capable but the alcohol only helped with her rash decisions.