Page 21 of Gaze

I see the blonde at the window, my pulse quickens. She smiles up at me, and I feel it radiate across my whole body. Our eyes connecting across the distance for the first time. She’s pretty, like Lisa. Slight and femme, like a damsel. I don't see the dark haired one with her, she looks to be alone in the apartment.

She sits down at the desk in the window and gives me one last look before settling down to do some typing on a laptop she has produced from a bag on the floor. She pays me no more attention for the next hour I spend watching her.

I debate getting the camera out to get a better look at what she was doing, but every now and again she would turn and look up at me, as if to check I was still watching - still captivated by her movements.

I chain smoke and watch her, using one cigarette to light the next, until she finally closes the lid on the laptop and looks up at me, her mouth slightly parted. I wonder for a moment if she is going to lift her skirt and start touching herself for me. The idea of it quickly sends a jolt of pleasure across my core. But I am sadly denied the scene as she stands up - blowing me a kiss, disappearing into the darkness.

Lighting another cigarette, I wait to see if she returns, I let it burn to the filter but she doesn’t. The apartment is left in darkness as the world around me slips into dusk.

After several more hours in which she does not return, I waste my time looking in the other windows. To my surprise I don't see Mr. Songwriter at all, he is normally around trying to make music by now. Nothing grabs my attention; no one is doing anything out of the ordinary.

Regretfully I slink off to bed, my needs unfulfilled. I debate reaching into my draw and releasing myself, but the thought doesn’t excite me like it used to.

I keep my door unlocked, not that I locked it before. I should lock it; I should keep it secure after my visitor the other night. But really, I think I know what I want- and it's them to come back. I want them to fulfill their promise. I want to know pleasure.

Tossing and turning in the sheets I can't get comfortable in the stifling heat, the breeze from my rotary fan is just blowing warm air around the room. Its oscillating movement forming a rhythm in my head as I slowly drift off to a dreamless slumber.

chapter

twenty-two

The slam of the door being thrown back on its hinges wakes me with a jump. The first waking breath feels like soup in my lungs as I struggle against the heat. I finally fell asleep face down, the air blowing against my naked back. I can’t roll over quick enough, the boots slapping against the floor are coming closer. She’s on me before I have a moment to register what is happening.

I try to get a word out but her hand presses into my head, her grip is firm as a strong hand holds me in place, the heat of her palm searing against my skull - it's aggressive yet completely controlled as she forces me down into the pillow, the sheet covering what was left of my dignity quickly stripped away. The draft is cool against my skin, the first cool thing I have felt in longer than I can remember. But I don't get a second to relish in the sensation before her hands are on me.

The hands, her hands on me are callous, I don't recognize them. Roughly they pull my legs apart.

I try to stand but I can't from this position. I can’t even sit up, their grip is so tight around my thighs, making it impossible to do anything but submit.

“Who?” I ask but it's muffled by the bedding still pressing into my face. She doesn’t reply, at least not with her words.

She doesn’t seek my permission as she pushes into me, two fingers at least, I moan into the sensation. I try and turn round to see who is fucking me, but they shove their hand into the back of my head forcing me back down onto the pillow. I exhale sharply, my own hot breath heating into the pillow.

She’s strong. Much stronger than me. At this moment I don't care, I don't care who she is or what she looks like. All I care about is what she is doing to me. The feeling of her rough fingers inside me. It takes my body no time at all to react to her presence, my slick wetness making her movements easier and smoother. I whimper and moan, but I do nothing to stop her in the act.

It had been weeks since I had felt anything other than my one hand on my body, weeks since I have had a release gifted to me by another. Lisa. Her face flickered across my mind, it had only been her for years, only her delicate hands and soft touches. Nothing like this. No this wasn’t her; I was sure of it.

A thumb, her thumb finds its way to my clit and I all but scream out in needy desperation. Her fingers forcing themselves into me with every stroke of her thumb over my clit was going to send me over the edge.

Fuck

She was going to undo me. I didn’t know who she was, and at that moment I didn’t care.

“Please”

It falls out my mouth before I can stop myself, I beg whoever it is to put me out of my misery and let me come. She laughs, sharp and malevolent. But she doesn’t stop, she continues her pursuit of my end.

“Desperate slut.” She barks around another laugh. Her voice is one I don't recognize, it’s husky and edged. She knows what she is doing, as she moves expertly inside me. It’s not long before my body is threatening to come, the pressure growing inside me bubbling and building like a boiling pot on a stove.

Then she does it, she presses her fingers down into my g-spot and I feel everything all at once. Her thumb on my clit, her thick fingers deep inside me, an explosion of sensation so bright it almost blinded me in the dark.

She continues to work inside of me, undoing me as I pant and moan into the pillow. I can feel the dampness from my own spit and sweat against my cheek. I am a mess, but in the dark I don't care, all I care about is what is being done to me, what she is doing to me.

The roughness doesn’t cease, her brutal thrusts are rhythmic as they plow into me, I start to move my hips in return, pulling her in deeper.

She knows what's happening, and she presses into me harder pushing me closer to the brink. My hands ball up the sheets. A scream begins to form deep in my chest.

“Take it.” She orders. My body responds and I spread my legs even wider, opening out my g-spot for her. Sweat running down my back, my own desire slick down the inside of my thighs as the press ever wider for my mystery guest. I can't think. I should be questioning who this is, what she is doing, why she is doing it. But I can't. I can't separate from my own primal need - she’s right I am a desperate slut. Her desperate slut, in this moment she owns me, my body, my soul, my very essence is tied up in her.