I watched her, like I did every night. She was undressing in her bedroom, getting ready for her evening soak, as I like to call it. Her soft, delicate hands unbuttoned the first few buttons of her black silk blouse. I made sure to sit in the shadows of the outside behind a tree. She never saw me looking at her. No one did.
Her name was Lydia; I thought it beautiful, which matched her perfectly. She was a ripe twenty years of age. Perfect. Perfect like her wavy black hair, when under just the right angle of light, had a sort of radiance...a sort of glow. Much like a halo on her head. And just at the center of her back, the tips of her hair curled naturally. Perfect like the oval shale of her face, pale and smooth like a baby's bottom. Perfect like the small slope of her nose, and slight flare of her nostrils. Perfect like her plump lips, which would be mine for the taking.
She finished unbuttoning her blouse now, and had tossed it onto the red sheets of her queen-sized bed. Her arms were slender and toned. Her shoulders were delicate and rounded perfectly. Her collarbone, oh how I wanted to run a finger across it. Her breasts were plump, perky, with small pink nipples that were always hardened. Her hands moved to her back, starting to unfasten her lace bra.
I moved forwards some, wanting to get a better look, but I knew not to be too bold, for she might catch sight of me. My blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, hanging loosely over my left shoulder. My long, pale fingers resting on the bark of the tree, rubbing slightly as I had a quick glance at her luscious nipples.
My eyes moved down her torso, gazing at her tiny, smooth waist and abdomen. I knew she worked at the gym a few days a week, and it was paying off well. She didn't need it though; she would always be beautiful in my eyes.
