Sneaing In

“Good Lord,” Leila sighed to herself in her empty apartment. “Is there anyone else without a thing to do on a Saturday night?” She was, with the exception of her collection of tetras in the fish tank along one wall, alone. It was a beautiful Saturday evening in early summer, and even though there were concerts, movies, and a plethora of restaurants to enjoy in the city, she had no plans.

She shook her auburn hair out of her eyes and raised herself from the couch, where she’d fallen asleep watching the six o’clock news. The glass of wine on the table in front of her was empty, as was the bottle next to it. “Great. I managed to kill an entire bottle of merlot before nightfall out of sheer boredom. And I wonder why I can’t find anything to do”.

Weekends were sheer hell for Leila. Work was fine; she had an hour commute each way, and plenty of work to bring home with her. But the boredom that crept in on Friday night inevitably found its way into getting everything accomplished that night, making weekends into a little Purgatory. There were only so many Saturdays she could handle visiting her mother, who constantly updated her on the unlamentable jerk who left her at the altar. Or the big-chested blonde who’d replaced her after a drunken weekend in Vegas. Damn near every female friend she had was married with her own little ones toddling around. And the dating scene lately had been, if anything, more dull and lackluster than a book with Fabio on the cover. All her co-workers were involved in their own little soap-opera melodramas. Hell, what she wouldn’t give for some college kids to be friends with; at least they knew how to party!

Groaning, she made her way into her bedroom and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above her armoire. Not bad, she had to admit. Even though the Yale t-shirt and unfashionably faded jeans had seen better years, at least she managed to stay the same size as her old sorority days. No signs of aging on her at all. Granted, she was only 27, but her mother was half-grey at that age. Her chest was probably a touch larger than proportional, but there wasn’t much beyond reduction surgery to change that. “What the hell is wrong with me?” Leila whined to her reflection. “You’d think I was some sort of ugly hag, the way I have no real life.” Her reflection didn’t answer back. Oh well.

He wasn’t exactly stalking her. That’s what he kept telling himself at any rate. Perched on the roof across from her apartment, he had a hidden telescope trained on her windows. The old shoe repair shop had been closed for a year now, but there was still plenty of junk stored on this roof. He’d used it before, when he’d needed a place to hide out while roof walking. Being a cat burglar wasn’t always glamorous, he had to admit to himself, but it was profitable. And, sometimes, it gave a man a nice taste of adventure.

It had been a month or so since the last time he had been in this area. He’d needed to hit a loft or two to make ends meet. Let the drug addicts steal car stereos and VCR’s, was his philosophy. Professional thieves knew what to take, where to sell it, and how to not get caught, above all. It was a better living than working a nine to five, and a damn sight safer than selling drugs to strung-out users. However, he’d almost lost it all.

And it was her fault.

Damn, she was a hot little piece. Memories of her lying in that bathtub of hers had been enough to keep him awake some nights over the past month. It was bad enough he hadn’t scouted the place enough to know she was still home. It was even worse that he’d caught her getting herself off in a bathtub big enough to fuck a woman’s brains out it. No, he had to be even more stupid than that and actually feel her up in the tub. God only knows why she didn’t snap out of whatever she was in to kill him.

But he wanted more. And that was why he was sitting on this roof, with boxes piled up by the old chimney; a telescope trained on her wide living room windows. As evening came, her lights came on. A figure was walking around the living room.

Leila finished cleaning up her Chinese take out and empty wine bottle. There wasn’t a damn thing on television, and if she hadn’t been to Blockbuster more times this month than she had, she’d probably go to see what was there. But she knew there was nothing out she wanted to see (again), so that left her with one option. Go find a book and read.

She scanned her bookshelves for the twentieth time since Friday night. Nothing seemed appealing to her. Good lord, she fumed, isn’t there anything worth doing tonight? Her gaze swept the room, looking for something to do, and landed on the kitchen table. Beside the bills, credit card offers, and sweepstakes entries, was a slim package from her older sister she’d forgotten to open. Well, maybe Jenna would have something interesting in there. Probably another tape of her adorable niece, Morgan.

Slipping out of the padded envelope was a book wrapped in newsprint. A letter was taped to the front. Dear Lei-Lei, it began. I know your life’s been duller than dull lately. Thanks, Jen! So, when I went shopping for some books for myself, I came across this. If my copy weren’t so worn out, I’d have lent it to you, but you deserve your own. Enjoy the reading! Love always, Jen-Jen.

Well, in most things, her sister had never steered her wrong. Curious, Leila opened the wrapping. Knowing Jenna, it could have been anything from Oprah’s latest selection to some old Shakespearean sonnets. That girl would read anything. But this…

‘This’ was a book that Leila would never have expected from her big sister. The cover was black, with no title on it whatsoever. The title page was just as mysterious. The Tattoo. No author given. What the hell was this supposed to be? Pouring another glass of wine, Leila gathered the book and walked out onto the balcony off her living room windows, settling herself into one of the comfortable reading chairs she has set up.

He watched her sit down in her chairs, a glass in one hand and a book in the other. The jeans she wore were so damn tight, showing off those legs of hers. And that t-shirt. What he wouldn’t have given right there to just help her take it off. The way she sat made the shirt stretch across her chest as some of the fabric got caught up under an arm. Using the light from her living room, she brought the book up to her face and began reading. He simply watched.

By the time she got to page three, Leila was turning red. By page ten, she was wiggling around in her chair. By page twenty, she was ready to slide out of her jeans and get laid right there on the balcony. What the hell? Jenna must have been confused. She would never read this! Jenna was a soccer mom, on the PTA, in the choir at church! Jenna wouldn’t read this, this…well, this porn!

But a little voice nagged in the back of her head. If she was enjoying the tale so far, why wouldn’t her sister?

Well, Leila, she thought, you wanted something to do tonight. You might as well have fun doing it! A smile crept over Leila’s face. Looking around, she noticed that all the other windows facing her apartment were dark or curtained. She was too high for cars and pedestrians to see her. No one was on the roofs, as far as she could see. The smile turned even more mischievous.

She left the book on the chair and walked into her apartment. In her bedroom, Leila changed into a pair of dark grey panties and bra that she knew looked like a bikini from a distance. It was a touch too cool, but if anyone were to see her, it wouldn’t look terribly out of place. Opening a bottom drawer, she took out a very slender wand. Turning the end, she felt the little motor whirring inside. Good, the battery was still working. She snatched a thin blanket, and headed back to the landing.

He was so upset when she went back inside, but when he noticed she left the door open and the book on the chair, he smiled. She’d be back. But when she did finally make it, he didn’t expect what he saw. She was in a bikini, or maybe lingerie. He couldn’t tell. He saw her settle back into her chair and cover herself with a blanket, settling something next to her in the chair. His curiosity got the best of him.

“Lady, you back again?” The tattoo artist looked up from his client to see who had walked in the door to his little shop. The woman taking a seat had been coming in way too often lately. This would be her third visit this month alone. He wasn’t complaining; she paid in cash and she paid a lot of it. But this was getting insane.

Her warm honey colored hair covered her face as she bent down to lace up her boot. “Yeah, I’m back. Wanted to add another inch or two to the one on my spine. Is that going to be possible tonight, or should I come back?”

He looked down at the guy he was working on at the moment. All he had left was a very small patch of coloring on the last leaf of the rose he was getting to cover up his ex’s name. “Gimme half an hour, ok? Then I’m all yours.”

She smiled. “I think I can wait that long”.

The time crept by, the half hour turned into forty-five minutes. Finally, the man was done, and the hot little number that was becoming a regular was lifting her shirt up and lying on the table. Starting at the base of her spine was a wild rose, complete with thorns and vines. It was slowly working its way up her back, twisting and blooming in full color. It was, he had to admit, some of his best work.

“So, lady, why do you keep popping in here getting this added to? I mean, wouldn’t it be easier to just do it all at once?” He was surprised to hear her deep laugh in response.

“Well, I guess you do deserve to hear the story. You do such good work, after all”. Twisting her head to look in his direction, she sighed. “This is my way of rewarding myself.”

“Rewarding yourself?” The tattoo artist almost dropped his needle. “Don’t women buy themselves new shoes or go out for manicures to reward themselves? I mean, there are cheaper and less painful ways, lady, to make yourself feel better, you know.”

She chuckled softly. “It’s not like that. This tattoo is my reward to myself for going after what I want.” She paused. Then, almost in a whisper, she added, “and usually, what I want involves something sexual”.

The needle hit the floor.

Leila was getting wetter just re-reading the intro. Granted, she’d read the first part or so, but going back over it, she could almost see herself stretched out on the table, getting that rose on her back. What would she be willing to do, she wondered, to reward herself like that?

Reading! He’s been sitting on the roof for the better part of an hour, now, and all she was doing was reading a damned book. He’d been dying for another glimpse of her, but this wasn’t what he meant. All she’d done was lunge on a chair, one hand holding the slim paperback, the other one out of sight. Sitting back for a moment, he felt like smacking himself upside the head. What did you expect, you moron? She’s out on her damned balcony. She’s not going to get hot and bothered out there! Stretching carefully behind the boxes, he repositioned the telescope and got back to watching. What he saw made him jerk hard enough to reposition it again.

Leila didn’t care that the blanket had slid to mid-thigh. It was getting dark, no one was visibly around, and she was getting herself too hot and bothered to care. Her slim vibrator was teasing the crotch of her panties, moving in slow circles up and down the fabric. Her nipples were tightening the cotton bra, and although the light from her living room wasn’t the greatest to read by, she was damned if she would put down the book and move inside. The breeze felt good on her skin, causing her to shudder as it touched the growing wetness between her legs. Let someone see, Leila was beyond caring. Besides, she smirked, she was getting excited as much by the book as she was by the idea of getting off on her balcony, in view of whoever might want to look.

This was what he’d been dreaming about forever. God, how was someone as hot as her not attached to a man, he wondered. She may look all prim and proper, but that was not what he would call proper behavior on that balcony he was watching. At that moment, he would have gladly done time in prison to be over there right now, helping Miss Not-So-Prim reach that climax she was seeking so badly.

God, I’m hot, Leila thought to herself as she turned another page. Only 50 pages in, and already tattoo-girl had given the tattoo artist a blow job, ran into an ex and his wife and enjoyed a quick ménage a trois, and, most recently, enjoyed some impromptu attention during amateur night at a local strip club. It wasn’t so much the individual scenes that tormented Leila, but the overall freedom the girl in the story displayed. She wanted to do something that risqué, like getting on stage at a strip bar. Friends and family would be shocked, but there was something so hot about the idea of getting on the stage, teasing complete strangers, getting paid for wickedly getting herself hot in front of them. Just thinking about it made Leila want to be daring.

She could feel her nipples getting tighter, her cunt getting wetter, and the sky getting darker. With less light, there was less chance of getting caught. Leila reached behind with one hand to unclasp her bra, letting the fabric slide down. The breeze taunted her nipples. Looking around once again, and seeing no one in sight, she slipped her panties down to her ankles. Not even bothering to bring the blanket back up, she moved her itty-bitty wand all over her clit…

I’m truly the luckiest man alive, he thought, watching as the panties slid down those tanned legs of hers. Focusing the telescope so that he could get the best view possible, he watched as her hips rose and fell. The book slid from her fingers and landed on the balcony floor. Obviously, she didn’t notice. He watched as the little vibrator of hers slid in and out of that tight cunt he remembered so well, watched as her other hand slid down to tease that little clit of hers. He watched as her fingers flew over her pussy, the slim vibrator sliding in and out more quickly. He watched as her face tightened up, her mouth gasping for air, her eyes closed, her legs shaking. She was close, damn it, and he would have given anything to be there for it again. Sucking those tits of hers, stroking those thighs, slipping his fingers in and out of that hot little pussy…

She imagined herself on the stage, being leered at by the sleaziest men imaginable. Slowly taking off each piece of the schoolgirl outfit she’d chosen. Finally being down to a demi bra and a g-string, both in a soft pink. Grinding her body into the seat of the chair she was using as a prop. Reaching up and unhooking the clasp between her breasts, letting the bra simply slide off her body. Sliding up and down a fire pole in true sleazy strip bar fashion, feeling her clit get bumped and brushed in the process. Having first one audience member, than more, yell for her to slide the tiny piece of fabric down. Sitting on the edge of the stage and play with herself as more and more of the men cheered her on.

She didn’t even realize how close she was until she came, shocking herself, crying out loud, thrashing on the patio chair.

He watched her as she grew still, panting for a moment or two before she finally slid her panties back up, grabbed the blanket and book, and slid back into the living room. It wasn’t until then that he noticed his cock in his left hand and how close he was to coming himself. Damn, she was hot. He definitely needed to come back for another visit soon.

Leila sat on the couch for a few moments, collecting her thoughts. After she finally relaxed, she smiled to the ceiling. Well, she’d found a way to kill a lonely Saturday night. Picking the book up again, a mischievous grin crossed her face. Reaching for the phone book and her cell, she dialed a number.

“Hello? How late are you open tonight? Good. I wanted to come in and get a rose with vines and thorns on my lower back. Oh, you’ve got some artwork like that there? Great, I’ll be there within half an hour”.