I was on holiday at the time up near the Gold Coast. I'd taken a unit for a couple of weeks and wound up on the twenty first floor of a high rise, with an amazing view. There were two other units on the same floor, one occupied by an elderly couple up visiting their grandchildren and the other by a young couple with a couple of small children. Nothing for me to get excited about.
After the first week the young couple and children departed and another young couple moved in. Carl and Louise were husband and wife, both about age twenty. They were your typical couple of young adults, neither really standing out. He was a bit of a dill and she was just average. That was my first superficial impression and I didn't think I was going to change it very soon.
How soon we change our minds.
It was the next morning and I was strolling towards the elevators when they stopped and Louise emerged. She had a bottle of milk in one hand and a plastic bag with a few odds and ends in the other.
This may seem like a bit of a non sequitur but it's not. Have you ever heard the excuse offered in a rape case that the way she was dressed she was asking for it? You probably have and, like me, you've probably dismissed this excuse on the ground that a young lady is entitled to wear whatever she wants without being dragged behind the bushes and assaulted. What a woman wears is not an invitation to rape.
Don't. You. Fucking. Believe. It.
The way Louise was dressed was a walking invitation to any male in her vicinity to get down and dirty with her, and I mean right this minute. Being of high moral character I managed to resist her charms, but I did wonder how she made it all the way to the shop and back unmolested.
By my best estimate she was wearing four items of clothing, and that's including her sandals. Her top was a ragged torn off t-shirt that nearly (note the word nearly) covered her breasts, revealing some very nice under-boob. Some strategic tears also provided glimpses of other sections of her breasts. She'd certainly been wearing a bra when I'd seen her the day before but now her beauties were loose, bounteous and bouncing, jiggling nicely as she walked towards me.
The last item that she wore was a pair of yellow tights. They might have been yoga pants but I was betting on tights. They lived up to their name, the material clinging closer to her than a coat of paint, but not as thick as the paint would be. Her every curve was on display and emphasised in a way that even nudity wouldn't do.
The cleft flesh between her legs had fabric lovingly clinging to it, with enough elasticity to slip into the cleft slightly so you couldn't be mistaken about what you were seeing. Her mons was shaved smooth as any hint of fur would have been shown by those loving tights. There was no way, absolutely none, that she might have had any sort of panties on at all. Even a thong would have been apparent if she'd been wearing one, no matter how brief it was.
She also had on the smuggest smile I'd ever seen. It was a 'you're looking at me, aren't you' sort of smile and she was relishing the attention.
I stopped in front of her, forcing her to stop as well.
"Louise," I said, nodding in greeting.
"Paul," she returned, acknowledging the fact that we'd introduced ourselves the day before.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she added as I casually lifted up the front of her top and checked out her breasts.
"Just looking," I said. "Stand up nicely all by themselves, don't they? Sensitive, too."
I added that last bit as I had accidentally brushed a nipple and they'd both promptly puckered up.
"You can keep your hands to yourself," she snapped, tilting slightly to the side to release her bag of bits and pieces, straightening up to slap at my hand.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," I grumbled softly. "Are you just as sensitive here?"
I reached down and dragged my fingernails lightly along her mound. The tightness of the material stretched over her meant that the vibrations of my light scratching would have transferred right through that material, making it seem as though I was really touching her labia.
She gasped and slapped at my hand and then took a swing at me.
"How dare you?" she said, getting ready to start on a real rant.
I hastened to interrupt.
"Oh cool down," I said with a light laugh. "I was just showing some honest appreciation of your attributes which is why you're dressed that way. It's not as though I was trying to seduce you."
"You couldn't," she snapped. "I'm married, remember."
"Doesn't matter. Too much effort to take the time to seduce you. Tell you what, though. When you're with Carl tonight remember my hand stroking your lips. It'll make it all the more exciting and put you in the mood for when I do fuck you."
"The hell I will. The hell you will. You just said you weren't going to seduce me."
"Well, yes, but I didn't say I wasn't going to rape you if I can catch you. I'll just keep my eyes open for an opportune time."
