I heard the builders arrive a few minutes before nine, just as my downstairs neighbor Adam told me they would. I pulled out one earpod to listen to them enter. Adam and I lived in a duplex with one shared hallway. He had the bottom floor, and I had the top. I could hear the builders struggling with the keys at Adam's door. From their conversation, it sounded like there were three or four men. I'd let Adam give them a key to my apartment at the top of the stairs too so they could use my bathroom. They'd be demolishing Adam's bathroom today to extend his living room and later rebuilding it with a new extension.
When Adam, who was also my landlord, offered half rent in exchange for bathroom access over a month, I'd happily accepted. I worked from home anyway so I could keep my apartment secure and I figured I'd hardly notice the builders come and go.
Though I had a desk with extra monitors set up in my guest room, I was usually lazy and worked on my laptop in bed. Today was no exception, although I had showered and dressed knowing I might have visitors. I wore a simple t-shirt and cotton skirt that came down to my mid thigh. I wasn't trying to impress anyone.
The thuds downstairs from the demolition kept distracting me from work and made me restless. I rolled onto my stomach, braced myself up on my elbows and carried on working. I was halfway through an email when I heard footsteps on the stairs and then keys in my door. I was about to earn my half rent.
I didn't want to set a precedent of talking to the builders since they'd be here for over a month. I knew if they were friendly I'd feel obligated to make them a coffee or tea every morning. So I stayed where I was, laying on the bed working. The door to my bedroom was open if they were especially keen on saying hello.
By the footsteps, it was only one of them. My back was to my door, but I heard him pass my bedroom, reach the bathroom and turn on the combined light and exhaust fan. When he finished, I listened to him turn off the light and fan. I appreciated that he was considerate. But when he walked back, I could hear him stop at the entrance to my bedroom. I braced myself for his hello, ready to be polite. I resigned myself to making four or five cups of coffee tomorrow morning.
But he didn't talk. He just stood there. I continued typing my email, not turning around, waiting for him to start the small talk. Then after a minute, without saying a word, he started walking again and I heard my apartment door close and the key turn.
It was weird, but I figured he realized I didn't want to be interrupted and decided to leave instead of making small talk. I kept working.
But only ten minutes later, I heard the key again. I pretended to be working, but I listened carefully to the footsteps. This time, they -- I didn't know if it was the same guy as earlier or someone else -- stopped at my door for ten/fifteen seconds before reaching the bathroom. Eventually they moved on to the bathroom. This one left the exhaust fan and light on so I had to assume it was a different, less considerate guy. He stopped at my door again on the way out before leaving.
What the hell? This was getting really weird now. Maybe I should've just introduced myself and been friendly from the start. I was considering the merits of going down and biting the bullet now when the key turned in my door for the third time.
I waited, listening, wondering if the same thing would happen again. Sure enough, on the way to the bathroom, the third guy stopped at my door. He stayed longer than the other two, making the hairs on my neck stand-up in suspense. I realized, suddenly, they all must be staring at something in my room. Was it me? Could they see up my skirt?
As soon as he moved on to the bathroom, I craned my neck around to check how I looked from behind. I had to hold back a gasp. My modest cotton skirt had flipped up, displaying my entire ass. It must have twisted up when I turned onto my stomach. Worse, I was wearing a thong today because I hadn't done my laundry in a while. It looked like I was displaying myself on purpose. Oh my god. The builders must have thought I wanted them to see me like this. No wonder, they all visited one after the other -- the first guy probably told the others to check out the flasher upstairs.
I was mortified. But also, something was stirring hot and tense below my stomach. I was turned on. These guys had a key to my home for a month and they probably thought I was some kind of slut. I didn't mean to think them but fantasies of them all in my apartment at once came to my mind unbidden, spurring my arousal on.
I heard the toilet flush and fell back into reality. This guy would be passing again. I quickly turned and sat up in bed, flattening my skirt. But wait, this was worse: now I was facing the door and would have to face this man after flashing him. Without thinking, I pulled my knees up high and rested my laptop on them to cover my face. I realized, just as the man got to my entrance, that this position was even worse. With my knees up, my skirt splayed around me on the bed, and he'd still have a view of my arse. Only now, if I widened my legs even an inch, he'd see the front of my underwear too. I clenched my knees together, but I could feel myself getting wet. I wanted to open my legs for him. For this stranger I couldn't even see with my red face hidden behind my laptop.
Casually, as if it was just my muscles relaxing, I let my knees fall away from each other a few inches. I pretended to keep working but I was typing nonsense into my laptop, high on the thought of this stranger staring at my underwear. It was so irresponsible of me. Inevitably I would come face to face with this man this month, and I was letting him see me in my underwear before even having a conversation.
Suddenly he spoke. Just one word in a clear, firm voice. An order: "Wider."
I exhaled as a shiver of arousal ran through me from the back of my neck all the way down to my core. I obeyed, slowly opening my legs until they were obscenely wide and my lower body was pulsing in excitement. What was I doing? I didn't understand but I couldn't stop. This was mortifying but exhilarating.
I flinched at the artificial sound of a shutter -- he had taken a photo of me. I should've snapped my legs shut in protest at the violation but I didn't. I held them wide for him. I think I would've done anything he asked.
"Good girl," he whispered. Then he left.
I listened to the key turn, locking me inside my apartment, and all sense came flooding back to me. What was I doing? I ran to my bedroom door, closed it, and sunk down to the floor with my back against it.
"What is wrong with you?" I whispered to myself, but at the same time I couldn't help the hand that fell between my legs. I needed to feel more. Fuck, my underwear were soaked through.
Wait.
I opened my legs wide and flipped up my skirt, looking down at myself. There was an obvious wet patch on the front of my white thong. And one of the builders downstairs had a photo of it.
I hid in my bedroom for the rest of the first day, and abandoned work to get myself off over and over again. The builders came up a couple more times, probably hoping to see more. I silently wished they'd take the initiative to open my door. If they did, they'd see me naked, spread out on my bed, furiously fucking myself with my fingers, then my dildo, then my fingers again. But none of them ever did.
Though I didn't have the courage to approach any of them, I was hooked after my first exposure and wanted them to see me again. I needed a way to expose more but make it look accidental. I decided on a potentially risky plan for day two and fantasized about it all night.
When I heard the builders arrive in the morning, I immediately felt my body tense in anticipation. I stripped completely and waited by the door. It was half an hour before I heard footsteps outside Adam's hallway. They'd be coming up my stairs soon. I sprung into action.
