So there I was, hiding in the dark in her closet. My heart raced at the thought of being caught. I had to temper my breathing. Any noise could give my position away. I had never hidden in a closet as an adult, but I knew there were all sorts of things in there that would make a nasty SNAP if stumbled over, stepped upon, or leaned into. I had to be careful. Trying to compose myself I looked for something on which to focus. There was no light in this claustrophobic space, but the double doors did offer a crack wide enough to let in the rooms shadows. My sliver of visibility showed me a floor covered in a dark area rug, a corner of a bed carefully made, a wooden stool with striped upholstery, and a woman's vanity. On the vanity were assorted jars, small objects, and a darkened lamp.
As I anxiously contemplated my next certainly desperate move, I heard the sound of feet lightly walking on a wooden floor - first very distant, then in a hallway nearby, and finally entering this room. I held my breath. As the light clicked on, a woman sat down on the stool facing the vanity mirror. I heard myself quietly gasp as she pulled off her T-shirt and exposed her back to me. She was wearing a black bra and had her hair in a casual ponytail. She picked up some small container from the selection before her. Opening it, she leaned slightly into the mirror, the small of her back curving inward so her torso remained straight. As she examined her face in the mirror, I could catch glimpses of her reflection. She was pretty, with smooth skin, and contrasting coloring. I moved forward slightly to press my eye to the door and increase my purview. I could now see her fully. She was wearing what looked like velour sweats and her bra seemed to have lace on the sides. I placed my hands on the door to brace myself. Careful, but not careful enough. The doors moved. It was a small movement but jerked and not silent.
The woman before me stopped. She turned to look around the room. I saw her face - beautiful, and her breasts - small but full. The cups fit her tightly, but there was a softness that spilled over the top. She looked past my location and to the door. She paused, smiled, and returned to her mirror. Was she expecting someone I wondered? She finished with her mascara, applied a light lip cover. Confident in her appearance, she stood up and faced herself in the mirror.
With her hands on her waist, she turned slightly to the side, improving my view and allowing the light from the hallway and her small lamp to bounce off the flat contours of her stomach. She looked at herself carefully. Turning around, she now examined the small of her back, the light playing in the dimples just above her hips, the concavity of her spine, and the curve down through the top of her pants. Again looking in the direction of my hiding place, she cocked her head thoughtfully as if there was a second mirror on the door behind which I hid. Then seeming to face me, she slowly slid the elastic band of her pants across her hips, down her thighs, over her calves and off each foot.
Her black panties seemed to match her bra. The thin band accented the inviting curve of her soft hips. Her legs were long and smooth. She turned back away from me to look at herself in the mirror again. Her hands cupped her breasts, testingly at first, as if wondering how they might look in a certain top. And then more gentle - almost massagingly. Her fingers slid down her torso, nails leaving a trail, to her hips. With patience she caressed her pelvis, then the tops of her legs, her ass, and the inside of one thigh. As I watched, I felt the pressure building in my jeans. My view was obstructed as she took a seat again, but I could see her arms come around her side and her hands move to the front of her body. One bent toward her breasts and the other down toward her open hips. She seemed to fumble with something for a moment before becoming very calm. Then her head leaned back in a gesture of pleasure, and I could see her eyes were closed.
For the next several minutes I watched her masturbate. There was very little detail available to my eyes, but the movement of her arms and body, her responses to her own caress, painted the picture. I watched until my lust overcame my judgment. Opening the doors of the closet quietly, I stepped into the room. Her eyes did not open and she did not turn. As I crept up behind her, I saw her hand caressing herself, panties pushed to the side. I saw her other hand beneath the cup of her bra. I listened to the soft cooing of her breathing.
