Dangerous To Know Pt 02

I fretted over sending the money to Kayla, but of course, I still did it. With the money went a little more of my self-respect. I had a sick feeling in my stomach as I pressed PayPal's "send" button; now I had not only kissed my teenage neighbour, and felt her breasts, but I was also trashing my savings to send her on holiday. What had begun as something that might cause an argument between my wife Jill and I had become something that would probably end our marriage if it came to light. I turned over ideas in my mind - how would I explain the missing money? I began to plot various schemes; a "surprise" car breakdown, or a mugging on a night out. I would probably have to mention it in some way. After all, I couldn't just claim I had put it in savings, because Jill kept meticulous track of our investment and pension goals, and besides, that money was already earmarked for our annual holiday together. No, it would have to be car trouble. There would be no other way to cover it up.

Lying with a little advance notice was easier. I parked up a few miles from home, took pictures of parts of the engine. I knew Jill didn't really understand cars. Seven hundred pounds to fix it! Unfortunately so, my dear. Nothing to be done. Still cheaper than getting a new one. And then I had to fake an invoice from the garage, pin it up on the fridge so Jill could make a note. I wouldn't recommend them to your friends dear, they were a bit expensive this time. Still, better to be safe than sorry, wouldn't want that to happen on the motorway, would we?

Kayla was happy, at least. She had my phone number, in exactly the same way she had got into my laptop I suppose, with her dark arts. We had an ongoing chat on WhatsApp now - I had her saved as "John", a "friend from work", and had to laugh along with Jill whenever she would ask "oh, is your boyfriend texting you again?". When the money hit, Kayla sent a big sticker of a bear holding a heart. "You won't regret this - I'll reward you <3" said the accompanying message. Secretly, I rather more hoped she would leave me alone than reward me. All this lying and sneaking about was corroding my soul; I had always prided myself on being a fundamentally decent person, and a good husband, but Kayla seemed determined to unpick all that as soon as she possibly could. The second barrel to her explosive assault on my dignity came from my own complicity with it. I disgusted myself with how I checked my phone so regularly, hoping to see a reply from her, and how my heart gave a little leap when I saw "John" pop up in my notifications. I hung on to her every word; it was as if I were the lovesick teenager, and she the mature, experienced adult.

Kayla didn't come over again before her holiday. It was a last-minute thing, and the next week, October half-term, she had jetted off.

She didn't text me much, but I followed her socials obsessively. She had only recently become old enough to drink, and by the looks of it, she was making the very most of that new privilege. She had gone with a group of girl friends, and almost every photo of them was posed with cocktails in hand, in the dark of a club or bar, lights swirling overhead. Kayla was dressed very revealingly in most of these pictures. Crop-tops, miniskirts, heels - I slavered over every photo of her bare legs, sporting a sweaty sheen amidst the dark humid atmosphere of the dancefloor.

Towards the end of her stay, a couple of boys started showing up in the photos. Locals, possibly; they were white but not at all pasty, and they looked tall and muscular. I felt a ridiculous, completely inappropriate pang of jealousy at the sight of them next to her. What right of possession did I have over her? It might even be a good thing; perhaps meeting boys would get her to stop tormenting me. But even so, I still felt a little heat rise to my face at the pictures of them dancing with her, touching her, their white hands forming a stark, sensual contrast again the brown skin of her midriff. She looked so tiny between the two of them.

I couldn't help but obsess over the images. While making love to Jill, my new fantasy was of Kayla in a grimy, sweaty club. She would sidle up to me, twist her warm, slick body seductively against me. I'd kiss her passionately as the music pounded all around us, pull her by the hand across the sticky floors to a quiet corner, begin to feel her up away from prying eyes. Reach my hand under her miniskirt. She would already be wet; but wet with what? Her soft lips at my ear, she would breathily tell me that the boys had already taken her that night, that I was getting their leftovers, and my jealousy would surge even as her sluttiness excited me... All this would race through my mind as Jill clung to me, moaned into my chest, stared at me with those bright blue eyes, full of love.

***

The week ended and Kayla returned.

I first noticed her mother's car coming slowly past our window while I was tapping on my laptop in our front room. I caught a brief glimpse of Kayla, sitting in the passenger seat, and suddenly felt in a very agitated state. I had spent a whole week imagining her, fantasising about her, masturbating over her. Now she was present and real again; not just a forbidden fantasy but someone tangible and corporeal, walking the same streets, breathing the same air, sleeping in her bedroom only fifty or so yards from mine.

About ten minutes later, I saw Sarah and Kayla walking down our path, and my pulse quickened. There she was, wearing nothing but tracksuit bottoms, a vest top, and socks with sliders. Her dark hair was long and messy, and her face had no makeup on it, and yet her beauty momentarily stopped my breath. Somehow, even at this time of year, the sun had darkened her already caramel skin to a deeper, golden brown. She wore no bra under her top, and I could see the outline of her nipples. In my mind, I could even smell her; the scent of her perfume, and cigarettes, and the sweat from the club.

Sarah came and knocked the door. I sat at my computer and kept working, consciously furrowing my brow as if engrossed in some problem. Jill answered it, and the low mumble of the two women chatting drifted through to the living room. I heard Sarah mention my name a couple of times. Jill said that she "would ask me" and I heard her light footsteps approach.

Jill tapped the living room door gently. "Paul?" she asked, and her voice was soft. "Sarah from a few doors down needs some help. She's picked her daughter up from the airport but needs some help carrying the suitcases. Can you help? Sarah can't lift the heavy ones, and you know, they don't have a man around."

I wasn't sure if I should refuse or accept. I was obviously trying to keep out of Kayla's way, ostensibly to appease Jill. I didn't want to appear too keen.

"I'm in the middle of work, honey." I replied, staring at a spreadsheet.

"It'll just take a minute," Jill replied. Her voice was timid. "I know I asked you to stay out of her way, but we can't really say no to a neighbour like that. We should keep on their good side. Please?" she added, entreating me with a tone I couldn't refuse.

"Okay," I sighed, and lifted myself up. My exterior was grudging, but internally, I was in a state of nervous excitement. I felt the blood pulse through my head and I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.

Sarah and Kayla were standing by the car. I walked over to them and gave a neutral smile.

"Hi Sarah. Jill said you needed some help with the cases?"

"Oh, Paul, thanks a million," she said.

"It's fine, not a problem at all," I replied. I tried not to look too hard at Kayla, who had her head down, playing with her phone, but thought I had better acknowledge her at least.

"Hi, Kayla," I added, but my voice was awkward and stiff. "Did you have a good trip?"

"I already told you, I'm too young for you, weirdo." Kayla replied. She was still not looking up at me. Sarah laughed in surprise. "Stop talking to me," Kayla added, and walked into her house. She didn't close the door behind her and I could see her in the hall, still looking at her phone.

"She'll feel the back of my hand later," her mum said, a little embarrassed, but also amused. I hoped that wasn't true, and bumbled awkwardly in response; "No, no, it's alright, it's just a bit of a joke to her I think, I'm not offended," et cetera, picking up the suitcases as I blathered.

As I walked up the stairs, though, Kayla ran up on my heels. "You'd better not step on any of my stuff," she said loudly enough for Sarah to hear, "I'm going to check you do it right." Kayla looked conspiratorially at me and put a finger to her lips. With the suitcases removed, I heard Sarah get back in the car and drive it a little way away from the house; they didn't have a driveway, so their car was normally parked in a permit bay just down the road. Kayla squeezed past me and beckoned me into her bedroom.

"I've got a present for you," she whispered coquettishly, and she pushed me into the middle of the room, pushing the door closed with her back. The place was a mess, with her clothes all over the floor and an empty bottle of wine in the bin. I recognised some of the outfits on her floordrobe from her Instagram page. My heart raced and pounded. The room clearly hadn't been entered since Kayla had left for her holiday, and the air was stale and filled with the intoxicating scent of her, that I had caught only brief snatches of before. It smelled of her cheap, citrusy perfume, stale cigarette smoke, and her body odour, seeping out from the bed sheets and the heap of dirty laundry. My eyes wandered over to the unmade bed and the unwashed underwear strewn over the place. I felt drunk on the presence of this teenage princess.

"We only have a few seconds until Mum is done parking up," she whispered, "And then she'll get suspicious, so watch this quickly." With that, she unlocked her phone, opened the camera app, and selected a video, then pressed play, pushing the screen into my face.

I stabilised her hand and watched. The video was from the perspective of a male, lying on a bed in a hotel room. The bright sunlight from the window at the far end of the room kept blooming the screen excessively, and every time the camera shifted, the video would go brighter and darker.

The male lay in his shorts on the bed, the end of his bare abs just visible at the bottom of the frame, his left leg tangled in the white sheets. He said something in Spanish, his disembodied voice resounding loudly from behind the camera. He was addressing someone at the end of the bed. It was Kayla. Her face was in shadow, with the window behind her, but it was unmistakeably her; she seemed to be biting her lip and giggling gently.

Kayla didn't respond to whatever he said, but she smiled and started undoing his belt. The camera focused on his shorts, and the movements of Kayla's hands. She pulled the zip down and slipped her delicate fingers inside. I could hear him gasp as her hand presumably found his penis. Then she grasped it, and struggled to pull the giant cock from his shorts, but finally, after a little help from the lad, it sprung free, fully erect. He laughed coarsely, a stupid, idiotic, masculine laugh, as her slim brown fingers stroked the loose skin of his cock, pulling it back and forth and over the head.

"Wait, it's not the good bit," she said, pulling the phone away and tapping it a couple of times, then turning the screen back to me and resuming the video. "Watch from here, it's only ten seconds," she added.

She pressed play. Her fist was moving faster now, her hand a blur, pumping his cock furiously, while he lay, looking up at her, groaning. He was enjoying her attentions immensely, that much was clear.

Then the camera trembled a little, and I saw his legs tense. A short pause, and he spurted a thick rope of semen over Kayla's fist and his shorts. She slowed down her movements and squeezed a second jet of cum out, which pooled between her thumb and forefinger. Then a third spurted over his groin. She giggled softly, then the video cut out abruptly, mid-laugh. As the video finished, it minimised and I caught a glimpse of the tantalising thumbnails of several similar videos in her gallery app, before she pulled the phone away.

"Like my new boyfriend?" Kayla asked.

"I..." I began to say.

"Don't say anything, just tell me if you liked it," she interrupted, her voice a sharp, excited whisper. She sounded as excited as I felt.

"Yes, I liked it." I admitted.

She looked at me and smirked. "That's the right answer," she said. "Here's your prize."

She stood on tiptoes, her soft lips inches from mine. I could smell her breath. My eyes closed instinctively, but the kiss didn't come. Instead, her breath continued, a little raggedly, millimetres from my mouth, while I felt her stuff something in my pocket. My own breath was heavy and I could not calm my pounding heart. Then, without warning, she was gone, leaving the room, shouting to her mum. I was left standing, aching for her touch, my heart racing.

No time to ponder it. I was reeling but I had to keep it together. A relaxed smile to Sarah, some small talk with her and Jill back at my door. Sarah pointedly exclaimed how rude Kayla had been to me right in front of my wife; that was good and calmed my nerves a little. My right hand was firmly in my pocket as we spoke, fingering the item which Kayla had put in there. It was some kind of fabric. It couldn't be...? But I so hoped it was.

When the conversation finished and we went back inside, I made a movement towards the living room, but Jill stopped me with one hand.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I was too harsh with you about Kayla. From what Sarah was saying, she really does seem like a nightmare. I'm sure it wasn't your fault that she came in the house and made a mess. I can well believe you just panicked."

She looked at me with a kind of softness in her eyes that melted my excitement into guilt in a moment. I still hadn't done anything irreversible, I tried to remind myself. The money was the worst of it. But Jill might now believe that Kayla was blackmailing me over nothing. After all, Kayla had no evidence that we had been physically intimate. I could probably plausibly claim that I was so worried after Jill's reaction the first time, that I had agreed to it in a blind panic just to get Kayla to stop tormenting me.

I stood for a moment, trying to will myself to say it. But the fabric in my pocket seeming to be burning through to my skin, branding me with culpability, and the shame of it stayed my tongue for the moment. Later, I told myself, I would tell her later, when I'd disposed of this thing that Kayla had given me. Instead I simply gave her a peck on the lips and a smile that I hoped looked genuine.

At the first opportunity, I went to the bathroom to inspect Kayla's gift. I withdrew it from my pocket with a shiver of guilty excitement; at the first glimpse of black lace, I knew exactly what it was.

I stood for a moment with Kayla's panties in my hands, wondering what to do. I should walk out and find somewhere to dispose of them, I rationalised to myself. A public litter bin would probably do the trick, the sooner the better.

However, a temptation tickled the back of my brain - I wondered if she had given me a clean or used pair. Maybe I could check first, before I disposed of them. My mouth dry and my heart beating fast, I unwrapped them with trembling hands. A dried white stain on the inside of the gusset told me all I needed to know. And yet, the tickling in my brain grew only stronger, and I felt I had to experience them more viscerally. I brought the dirty panties to my face, and breathed deeply. The smell of them scratched some deep, primal itch in me; the faint odour of her sweat combined with the musk of her pussy and ass was intoxicating. I couldn't put them down, just kept on breathing deeply, and now rubbing them against my nose and face, trying to drown myself in the scent, to live inside the smell of Kayla's cunt. I checked the lock on the door and then pulled out my almost painfully hard cock. Kayla had worn these on her holiday; she had probably sweated into them all day walking around the town, then some more while dancing in the club. Her brown teenage pussy might have moistened in them when one of the local boys put his strong hand at the small of her back; she had possibly pulled them back up after taking a piss, the gusset absorbing the drops she hadn't quite wiped away.

That thought was the one that sent me over the edge, and I came hard into my hand, suppressing a grunt into the pungent fabric.

As I came panting back to Earth, I realised I had to do something with these now, in my moment of clarity after orgasm, or it would be twice as difficult to do it next time. I cleaned up, stuffed the panties back in my pocket and vowed to walk down to the shops right away and use the public bin there. We needed milk anyway, I knew we did, so it wouldn't be suspicious.

But as I went towards the door, I heard my laptop making a ringing tone. I groaned internally. I had almost forgotten the meeting I was supposed to be in. The bin would have to wait.

Of course, after the meeting, I lost motivation to dispose of Kayla's little present. And so I tucked the panties in my drawer, and promised myself to do something about them later. Perhaps after enjoying them a couple more times, first. At the very least, I would try to be stronger with Kayla next time I saw her; I would take heart from Jill's softening attitude and try to put an end to this little game.

***

I didn't have to wait long. I was working from home again the next day, but this time, Jill was out at her own office.

In the quiet stillness of the house, with the thrilling prospect of a day looking at spreadsheets and data, the temptation to go back to Kayla's underwear was overwhelming. I took a look at the clock. Quarter past ten. Another forty-five minutes until I had to be on a meeting. I had time for a small treat.

I went to the bedroom, took out Kayla's black lacy panties, and then came down and settled back at my desk to contemplate them a little. I ran my fingers gently across them, tracing the seams. I inspected the stain in the gusset. Was that just natural discharge, I wondered, or was some of it from arousal? Had anyone else run their fingers over this material, while it still clung to her teasing little cunt? I hoped so, as I rubbed it gently against my face, breathing deeply all the while. It felt like a divine ritual, like a token of worship to Kayla and her entitled, demanding femininity. I even whispered her name gently into them, like a devotional chant, as I fantasised and worshipped:

Kayla, Kayla, Kayla...

"Are you enjoying yourself?" came a voice from behind me.

I leapt up in surprise and terror, my heart gripped by ice. My first thought was that Jill had caught me.

But as I turned to face the sound, my terror turned to confusion, and then anger. Before me, wearing an amused, disdainful smirk, stood the goddess whose name I had been invoking.

"How did you get in here?" I said in a fury, stuffing the panties into my pocket.

"I can see your back door from my bedroom, you idiot," she said, laughing unconcernedly at my evident annoyance. "I can't believe you leave your spare key under a gnome. That's so cliché. And what's worse, I already told you that I got into your laptop, I thought that might clue you in! But nope, I came back from holiday, and it's just as easy to break into your house as it always was."

In truth, Kayla's invasion of my privacy had been the last thing on my mind in the wake of our last meeting before her holiday. I had been so caught up with covering up the more pressing money situation that I had given no further thought to the fact that Kayla had somehow seen the dirty pictures I had saved on my personal computer. This brought that violation back to the fore of my mind, and I wondered what else she might have done in my house while I was out. I cursed myself inwardly for my stupidity.