When the phone rang and Phylicia saw who was calling, she beamed. "What time should I pick you up, Sweetie?" It had been so long since she'd had seen Riley, her excitement was off the charts. She wasn't just counting days, she had a timer on her desk that displayed hours, minutes and seconds.
"Sorry, Baby. Business." The voice on the other end was disappointingly upbeat. No regret or sadness about their time apart being extended. "You know how it is. I'll make it up to you. I promise."
Her heart sank. "Sure. I understand. It's not like I had anything special planned," she lied, thinking of the expensive champagne chilling in the refrigerator, the sassy black nightie she got for the occasion, and the new vibrator in her nightstand. "But I really want to talk to you about what my boss said to me today. It was terr—"
"I'd love to, Baby. But another time. I'm slammed. Still at the office working on this deal. You know how important it is. I'll call. I promise. Love you." [click]
As she looked at the phone, a tear ran down her cheek. Stunned and downcast, she curled up on the sofa and hugged a pillow. After 15 minutes in the fetal position and another 30 staring at the ceiling feeling sorry for herself, she sighed and told herself to be more understanding. 'It's just an unusually busy stretch. Everything will be back to normal after Riley puts this deal together.'
Dragging herself off the white leather couch, she decided to finally play with the telescope she'd purchased six months ago. She'd bought it mainly as a decoration. That spot in the room had cried out for something big, and she'd stumbled across the gleaming brass telescope at a house sale.
To be honest, however, that wasn't the only reason she'd bought it. She lived opposite a series of glass towers, and she was curious about her neighbors.
As she casually scanned the windows, she—
'Quick go back! Is that—?'
She adjusted the knob on the side of the metal tube until the pink blur snapped into focus. It was two women making love in a shower. They were locked in a loving embrace, kissing passionately. One woman then bent down and took the other's nipple in her mouth—which caused her partner's knees to buckle. The two looked at each other and giggled. She was in awe at how beautiful the couple was and how sexy the scene was. She closed her eyes and pictured her and Riley doing the same thing. She loved the dampness between her legs. Unfortunately, the thrill of forbidden pleasure got swept away by a wave of guilt. She obediently aimed her eyeglass at the adjoining apartment, where a white cat was sunning itself by the window.
When she'd moved into the building and noticed the glass walls in her view, she adopted a commonsense rule. Everyone living in apartments like that knew the risks of being seen. Open curtains, then, meant the inhabitants didn't mind that aspect of their lives being watched. Maybe they were actually exhibitionists. Besides, whatever she could glimpse from so far away was so blurry and ill-defined, what she saw was more a tease.
But that was before she'd had a high-powered telescope. In her quick look at the pair in the shower, she saw wonderful details. Hands desperately exploring bodies. A hard, chocolate brown nipple being teased by a pink tongue. Faces flushed with joy and desire. She struggled against the temptation to go back.
After checking out other windows for a few minutes, however, she realized that none of the bathrooms in that building had windows. How could she see the sexy pair in the shower? Unable to let it go, she took a second look. It turned out that what she was looking at was a mirror that reflected a view of the apartment's bathroom. The two women making love in the shower. Gloriously naked. Lovingly lathering one another up. Hugging. Kissing. Pleasuring every inch of their beautiful flesh with their hands and lips.
Phylicia looked away. The women must not know what the mirror displayed. Also, their lovemaking only reminded her of how long it had been since Riley had touched her body that way. The ache was deep and torturous. She went to the kitchen, poured herself a large glass of wine, and felt sorry for herself. Then it hit her. 'There's something familiar about those two. Don't I know them?' She raced back to the telescope. 'It is! Tinker and Belle!'
"Tinker" and "Belle" were two women who were always in the front row of the spinning class she took each evening. She called them that because they looked like 'pixies' to her. Very petite, adorable blondes. 'Pixie' haircuts. Sweet, high pitched voices. Phylicia always took a bike three rows directly behind them, and she couldn't help but envy their tight, shaped behinds. Frankly, it was trying to get an ass like theirs that motivated her to work so hard in class.
Knowing that having answered the 'Do I know them?' question meant she had no more reason to watch, she tried to look away—but couldn't. The sex was hot. The atmosphere was playful. There was lots of giggling and laughter, followed by raw, desperate, hungry passion. The girls were absolutely uninhibited in their giving and receiving pleasure.
On top of the sex, however, their love was so palpable—and stood in such stark contrast to the current state of her relationship—she was desperate to share in it. Bracing herself against the wall, she moved her hand into her panties. She gently teased her moist slit, massaged her swollen lips, then slid a finger inside her very wet pussy. She moaned loudly, imagining one of the girls finger fucking her. She came with such force, she almost lost her balance.
When her body stopped trembling, she was blindsided by shame. It was one thing to accidentally see the naked couple. (Oops! My bad! Moving on.) It was another to go back (Just trying to determine how it's possible for me to see into a bathroom with no windows)—and then return again (I'm sure I know those girls). But she had no defense for what she'd just done. She doubted the lovers would agree to her using their most intimate moments as 'reality porn' to masturbate to. No matter how frustrated she was, this didn't excuse such an invasion of privacy.
As she was beating herself up, her phone pinged. Seeing that the text was from Riley, her heart leapt—'Yeah! Change of plans!' When she read the message, it crashed.
"Delayed at work for another hour. Will be late—so even hornier! Be ready with cold bubbly, wet pussy, and no panties! Expect the best fucking weekend of your life! Get it? 😉 XXX."