"a girl whose hair is yellower than torchlight should wear no headdress but fresh flowers” Sappho
My evening with C and ‘the girls’ was two weeks ago now, yet it felt like yesterday. In fact, in many respects it felt more like a dream, and there were times when I wasn’t even really sure if it happened at all. But every time C came home in the evening, or lounged about on the sofa on weekends, my eyes lingered along her length. It was this: almost every single time I saw her she was in a dress. Her favorites were always loose fitting, flowing, or flowery sun dresses which were perfect for the hot summer days we were getting. The fabrics were light, bright, flouncy, short or long, but always dresses and she - in my dream evening anyway - had shared with me her little secret: that she never wears panties. So each time she stood before me chatting about her afternoon class, or when we were having our morning coffee, or watching TV, I could not get out of my mind the image of her standing before me naked (because I could SEE that she was also not wearing a bra) but for the light little dress that hung about her shoulders and fell down to her thighs or knees. And I could see, feel, taste that little pussy before me from my imagination, and I could feel my heart begin to race every time.
It was becoming like an overwhelming obsession, this distant thought always resting in the corner of my mind, filling my thoughts. When I seated myself in the living room, I would carry a mental map of the entire room, strategically setting myself down in positions providing the best potential chance of peeking at C. Knowing that when C typically comes home she normally sits there, which would be opposite from me here. And perhaps, just perhaps, I would be gifted once more with a surreptitious peek up those long beautiful legs, and once more see even just a few hairs growing at her center, her bush, of C exposed once more before me as I remembered.
There was a problem with this plan however, namely that no matter where I sat, when she saw me, would come and sit right next to ME. Her movements were loose, confident, catlike, childlike. She would frequently let herself drop right next to me on the sofa, legs akimbo, open, one leg settled beneath her, and I could work the angles knowing that if I were sitting now in the chair across the room - over there - I would be seeing right up her dress perfectly. But I was not there, I was next to her here, seated at an angle above and beyond any ‘peek.’ Leaving only imagination, which was somehow so much more detailed. I swear I was probably always flushed in her presence - always muddled, what was she thinking?
As the weeks wore on and my obsessions continued, I spied upon one opportunity. Her bedroom, or line of rooms which she had use of, were all on the third floor. The third floor was enormous, all three rooms ran along the entire length of the house, with a hallway to one side. The one entrance was a steep stairway up to that level. On those days she was wearing her shortest skirts, I carefully calculated that a walk up the stairs right behind C would expose her fully to my view. I had even practiced on several occasions during the day. So I waited.
On a lovely summer afternoon she arrived home after signing up for summer classes, wearing a very light loose, and SHORT skirt. I was watching her make a sandwich in the kitchen. This was the one, it’s my opportunity, I thought. I knew she would go upstairs shortly, the trick was to be invited up with her.
I asked, “How was school, did you get your classes?”
“Yeah, everyone is so nice. I really like this school, its size perfect, like I literally went in to my advisor today and he totally took my care of everything. He even walked with me to all the right advisors, got my various paperwork signed, and I got everything I wanted. I took two classes, I thought three, but that would be too much. I even had time to buy the books,” and she pointed at her backpack.
“How many books did you get? It looks huge. . . Is it heavy?”
“That WAS the hard part. I had to carry it all the way back to my car, but it was fine. I just didn’t want to have to go back there again. It’s so hot and the parking like totally sucks.”
I said again, “It’s heavy. Uh, I could carry it up to your room for you. I mean after you’ve been schleping it all around.”
“No, that’s ok. I think I’ll just keep them in the study. It’s not the kind of reading I do in my room. If that’s ok with you?”
I answered her, “Yeah, there’s plenty of room in the study. Fine.”
“What have you been doing?” She asked me now.
“Not a lot. Work gets pretty quiet in summer.”
“What do you do anyway?” She seemed interested.
“It’s hard to explain. I sort of organize unique, exotic, investments for some of the richer folk in town. More like designer investments. The kind wealthy people like to talk about in parties.” She was pretty interested, I continued. “Things like working out investments in movies, or music, or even race horses. I package it up so that lots of folks can put in a bit and then basically pretend like they’re the owner, producer. Like that. They don’t even care if they lose their money. It’s for the story. I enjoy it. It really is fun.”
“Like what, movies?”
“I’ve gotten it so people can say they’ve invested in ‘Caddyshack,’ ‘Matrix.’”
“Too cool! No way! Matrix. Can you watch them make the movies.”
“Sometimes,” I was just lost in the conversation now, not thinking of anything but the two of us in the kitchen on this beautiful summer day.
“What music?” She continued the line of questioning.
“I can never remember them. Everything has these names which are like random words from a dictionary now - Toad Sprocket”
She corrected me, “Toad the Wet Sprocket. If I showed you some CD’s could you tell me, would you remember then?”
I sprung to attention, “God Yeah, that would work.”
She repeated, “This is too cool! I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get my CD’s and show you the titles so you can tell me which ones you helped produce. That would be so cool to tell my friends. It makes you like very cool Jack.” Here eyes were alive, she had this wonderful smile as she swung her hair back out of her face.
I said as casually as I could manage now, “Why don’t I just come up there with you and we can go through them up there?”
“Uh Yeah, sure. Come on. I got hundreds. We can play some of ‘em.”
And we were walking up the stairs to the second floor. I was like a person in a dream, my heart was pounding, I could barely breath. I was measuring the angle of the flight of stairs we were on, it was not as steep and still I could see so far up the expanse of her thighs, white and creamy. This would work. This was perfect! The bright light illuminating her legs, the thin fabric allowing light right through the fabric. She was still talking up the flights but my mind was not listening at all. I was so hungry just to see her again.
At the first step to the third floor I knew that I had to let myself drop back about two to three steps, so I slowed slightly behind her. She continued, and I paused, second step and I took my first step, looking steadily upward. And her dress was opening like a flower around her hips to me at that moment! I could see up the expanse of her legs, her dress forming a fluid circle around her naked body, supported by her perfect long legs, and I was staring up between her legs. Pausing slightly once more, and staying in pace, I could see her blonde puss perfectly the entire path up the stairway, her legs were working on either side of this unmoving rising center, and the soft swell of her ass cheeks. I could see her slit extending up the crack of her ass, glowing from the light shining from the window at the top of the stairs, lighting and shadowing through her dress. Heaven!
As she reached the top step, she looked back at me. In the process of watching her I had also inadvertently leaned forward for a better view, and when she caught my eye I know that it was obvious I had been looking up her dress. She grabbed the hem and gave it a light pull forward, covering herself briefly, but then let it go again and as it waved back once more I got my last perfect view. As we both reached the top and headed down the hallway, she just kept looking back at me on our way to her room. I kept silent, slightly embarrassed, but pretending like nothing had happened at all.
“Here they are,” she said as she sat on the bed and reached for a little black case filled with CD’s.
She got up once more and kneeling on the floor, she sort of crawled to her stereo that sat on the floor opposite her bed on all fours. At that moment I let myself quickly down to the floor behind her, once more obsessively trying to see what I could of her from what I thought would be a perfect position. My mouth was dry, and I was so aroused at this point, I could feel my erection and was adjusting myself when she wasn’t looking. C opened then closed the CD player, and then turned on some music, it played softly. The back of her skirt barely covered her. I could see blonde pubic hairs wisping down, curling down below the hem of thin fabric which fell directly accross her pussy, but nothing more. She looked back at me again, caught my eye, I smiled.
She just said, “Jack?”
I said, “What?”
And she just responded, “this is fun.”
She got up onto her feet and walked back to the bed, and I in response began to move back to the bed with her as well.
She looked down at me, “No, no, you stay down there. If we find a CD you produced I want you to play it for me. You can put it in.”
I nodded absently and set back down on the floor in the middle of the room. She seated herself loosely, legs spread in the same manner as all other times, only this time I was sitting down on the floor now directly before her looking up at her, and directly up her skirt. She just smiled, fluttered her eyes, clearly letting her legs hang apart, letting her skirt gradually slide up her thighs. Her muff was pressed down on the bed. I could see this small patch of hair pressing into the bed, her long legs, the white of her flat abdomen forming a triangle beneath her skirt. Bare flesh. She was slowly going through her CD’s, oblivious to my rising lust, as I stared apelike up at her.
“How about this one?” She held it out to me, but in such a manner that I would need to move closer to retrieve it. So I slid closer and reached out my hand to look at it. My head was level with the edge of the bed and I could see more clearly than ever up her dress. She was looking right at me as she passed the plastic disc, I examined the CD.
I just sort of mumbled not taking my eyes off her, “I don’t recognize this one at all.” I wasn’t even really looking at it.
“What style? Is there a certain kind of music I should look for.” She was quizzing me and I snapped too.
