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Voyeur

I've finally got some creative writing to share with you (although do be sure to go and check out "It will never go away" by Jenni and "One foot in the grave" by Di)

This was originally written as my debut piece for Alecya's other blog -- "The Secret Room". If you are a fan of erotic fiction, then I heartily recommend that you get over there and have a look, as the girl can really write.

Anyway.

This is something of a departure for me, but I decided that I wanted to have a go. Let me know what you think.

----

I wonder if she knows that I’m watching. But how could she know? My eyes are hidden behind mirrored sunglasses and I’m lying so still I could be asleep. I’m watching her so intently I’m barely breathing. She is lounging by the pool, soaking up the late afternoon sun. I don’t think she has even noticed that I’m here. What am I to her? I am nothing. I am less than nothing. I am an ant. I am invisible. And so I watch.

She shifts slightly and my heart skips a beat. She is beautiful. She is incandescent. She stretches her long legs on the lounger and arches her back, but only for a moment before settling back down. It is all I can do to stop myself from reflexively sitting up to get a closer look. I resist. I lie still. I remain anonymous and unseen a while longer.

Her blonde hair is pulled back off her head into a loose ponytail. She has been sweating in the heat, and her hair is slightly damp and a little darker than normal. I close my eyes and I can almost smell it. My eyes shift down and flick again across the length of her long, lean body. She is tall, her long legs stretching to the end of her lounger, one knee slightly bent, her toes hooked over the edge. She parts her lips, opening her mouth slightly to allow her tongue to slide out and flick slowly from left to right, moistening her lips. I am transfixed.

It is a hot day. Her body is glossy with a slight sheen of sweat, a few beads forming around her navel and between her breasts. Her breathing is shallow in the heat and I can see her chest rise and fall. With every breath that she takes, the curve of her belly rises up above the waistline of her bikini bottoms, stretching the fabric for a tantalising moment before she breathes out and the moment passes.

A breath of wind passes and sends gentle ripples across the glassy surface of the pool. She stirs again, and I can see the goose bumps rising on her skin, as though under a lover’s touch.

Suddenly she turns over, rolling onto her stomach so that her back is exposed to the sun. The lounger has made marks across her back; red welts running in parallel lines down her back and across the backs of her legs. She flicks out a hand, reaches around and casually extends a finger inside her bikini bottoms to flick them out around the curve of her buttocks. It’s a small gesture and lasts perhaps five seconds before her hand returns to her side, but to me every move she makes is poetry. She sighs, and her breathing begins to deepen. With every intake of breath, her ribs press against her skin, casting a new set of shadows on her flank. A fly lands on her thigh, and she first twitches and then that hand reaches back again and lazily swats it away.

I want to touch her but I glance at my watch and the sands of time have slipped away and I have to leave. The spell is broken and the moment is gone. I stand to leave, pausing for a moment to see if she will hear me go. Her breathing remains deep and regular, and I slip away unnoticed. When she wakes she won’t even remember that I was there.

Perhaps I never was.

posted by swisslet @ 7:59 PM