Marcus first met Christine when he was assigned under her 12 weeks ago. He started out in an ad agency in New York City as an advertisement designer and she was his editor. Being fairly young and naΓ―ve, she flirted with him to get him motivated. Her efforts backfired when his thoughts drifted back to Christine instead of his work. Secretly, she found a home in the back of his head, along with most men in the office, or at least the straight ones anyway.
Everyone thought her to be quite gorgeous. Tanned, olive-colored skin graced her along with elegant black hair, soft, sweet brown eyes, and teeth made from mother of pearl. That was just the face; a classical sculptor could have crafted the body, it was so ideal. A sizeable bosom graced her along with an hourglass figure including well-proportioned hips and a supple ass. The legs could kill a man if he saw too much of them. And many of her endowments stayed with her even after she was tossed out of the modeling business. Fortunately for her, a friend brought her to the advertising business, the unseen cousin of modeling. How unfortunate for the public, they would never get to see her. Her physical beauty tempted many men, but drove Marcus to new heights.
Remarkably, she asked him to drop off one of his late projects at her apartment so she could review it before the deadline. It was here that he discovered that she lived right across the street from him, her apartment being one level below his. He had an ideal opportunity to get closer to her than anyone else at the office. So he took to observing her by night. He even bought expensive binoculars from which he would observe her every action. Marcus especially relished the moments when she would dress and undress, oblivious to big brother's watchful eye and enlarging organ. She would put on a show in her mirror, tossing her hair back over her shoulders, practicing her enticing walk, while performing her coquettish laugh, for which she was renowned for and envied for at the office. She still thought she belonged on the modeling runway; the mirror was her audience.
But no one at the office claimed to have conquered her, any man would be foolish to keep such an experience to himself. Could it be that she was already involved with some lucky man or woman? Marcus thought of it, but he had never seen any visitor come into her apartment, nor had he seen her leave for more than an hour at a time. By all opinions, she seemed to be something of a recluse. "Well," he thought to himself, "we'll just have to change that."