The Tease

The complex was quiet, the paths dark, only one woman swam laps in the pool. I slipped into the hot tub, a plastic glass of wine by my elbow and wondered when my frenzy might subside.

She'd been especially immodest that evening. Before she'd left at the dinner hour, she'd primped and primed herself, stripping out of tailored slacks and conventional blouse revealing functional underwear, and then, at an adagio pace, those most beautiful breasts, silky globes adorned by ample circles of tawny color and, in the middle, those marvelous nuclei, protruding from the roundness. She'd pranced through her routine as if performing for me. She reappeared after her shower, her short midnight hair dripping. I was disappointed, but not surprised, to see a towel surrounding her hips. I watched as she dried her hair, made her face, selected the dress, a floral pattern of dazzling hues, strapless of course, all the better to display the orbs of desire. Her back to me, she discarded the towel, stepped into a pair of panties, brief but not ludicrously so, slid the frock over her shoulders, deftly zipped the back. She grabbed her purse for the evening, placed wallet, keys and lipstick in it, and was out the door.

In the interim, I put a dinner from the market in the oven, opened the bottle of inexpensive Merlot I'd been saving for this Friday evening, watched a DVD, read a book. Perhaps I dozed, but when she came home, not long after midnight, I was instantly alert. She'd brought her date home and after she got him a glass of water and put her iPhone into the dock I heard the strains of romantic jazz. On the sofa they sat, distant from each other, conversing. I watched his assault, a hand on the shoulder, a slight turning to better face her. Scarcely restrained at first, she might have been resisting, but when he bent towards her she raised her lips, she allowed him a kiss. That activity took the better part of five minutes, and eventually his hands began to explore her ear, neck, and then, at long last, he grasped a breast. Through the fabric he fondled it, and then he removed the dress without any resistance from her. His mouth went to one of the nipples, I watched as the other crinkled in pleasure and anticipation. Her hand traveled to his chest, leg, lap. She implored him for a favor, he rose and removed shirt and trousers. As he stood before her, she caressed his rod through the boxers, pulled them down over his hips, licked the tip, took the glans into her lips, just the head at first, then further until nearly the entire shaft was enclosed within the wetness of her mouth. With a hand, she stroked the nut sack, sending shivers through him. As she knelt on the sofa, her rear end toward me, her knees apart, I could see darkness staining the fabric of her panties. It was then that she stood beside him, pressing her body against his, and the pair migrated to the darkened bedroom. Most of an hour passed, and before two o'clock they returned to the living room. She was wearing a thin kimono, he put his discarded clothes on. One final kiss, the promise that he'd call her, and she fastened the lock behind him. The light in the living room was dimmed to a glow, she went back to the bed room, presumably to slumber.

Realizing the evening was over I sprawled on the bed, but the remnants in my memory of what I'd witnessed that evening prevented sleep's arrival. After twenty-five minutes I decided staring at the ceiling was fruitless, got my swim trunks on, walked to the hot tub.

I reclined, enjoying the heat of the water contrast with the coolness of the Northern California night, thought about other times I'd watched her in various states of dress and undress, passion and apathy. How, I wondered, could she allow me to witness her so indifferently? Or, was it possible that she wasn't even aware of my presence? 

I heard the padding of feet on the cement behind me, the dripping of water on concrete, the panting of breath. The swimmer slid into the hot tub two yards from me, I caught the glimpse of a blue bathing suit, abundant yet proportionate breasts, and then, the face. It was her!

"Oh, you're the pervert," she exclaimed.

"Excuse me?" I evaded.

"The pervert. The guy who watches me in my condo." The tone in her voice, the expression on her face didn't exhibit alarm or pique, but the words she employed certainly were upsetting. What to do? Should I deny it? Just leave before it got ugly? I took the third fork in the road.

"Well, you could close your drapes, you know."

"Sure I could, Perve, but then you wouldn't get to watch. Don't worry about it, I'm a tease. I like being looked at. You like watching, don't you? At these?" She lifted her tits, more of the roundness rose above the trimming of her suit. I made no reply to her accusation, it seemed any response I gave could be misconstrued, but that didn't stop her from continuing her thread. "You like to take pictures, too, don't you? How many did you take tonight?" Again, I balked, but she demanded, "Come on, a hundred?" 

"More like a dozen." The actual truth was somewhere between the two estimates, but I was still uncertain of my position.

"Huh! I thought sure I'd be worth more than that. And you've been watching me for more than two weeks now. How many do you have, total?"

"Maybe a couple hundred."

"Now that's better. Put them on the Internet yet?"

"Of course not."

"Good, that could have got you in trouble." Apparently my demeanor still was less than positive. "Oh, don't look so wretched, it's okay. My name's Audrey," she said, and we shook hands. "What's your name, Perve?"


"Milt. Short for Milton? It fits you. You're geekish. I mean that in a nice way. If you don't want to call me Audrey, you can call me Tease. That's short for 'cock-teaser,' which I am. You moved in about a month ago, right?"

"Yes, that's right." We both lived on the third floor of an adults only condo complex in the South Bay, just west of San Jose. The complex had ten or twelve buildings, each with ten compartments. From my condo, obviously, I had a great view of Audrey's place, her living room directly across from mine, her bedroom also adjacent. Our windows were, perhaps, thirty feet from each other. "How long have you lived here?"

"Now that's a long story. You going to let me have a drink of your wine?" I handed her my cup. "We moved in twelve years ago. My ex and I, we'd been married then for eight or nine years, I guess. Jim wasn't a California native, he came from the East Coast, I grew up in the East Bay. Back in the 'Nineties, like everyone else, we both went from job to job with hardware and then Internet companies. He kept getting bumped up until he was a director someplace, I made it up to marketing manager. We were good to each other, for my thirtieth birthday he gave me a boob job." Another shake of the orbs. "Then the bust hit, and I was out on my ass. He kept his job, but that started the slide. I couldn't find any kind of a position that paid anything, and he told me he was tired of supporting me. So I wound up getting a part-time position at Barnes & Nobles. They found out I was literate, and that's about all the qualifications they needed. So there I was with all that time on my hands, and he's flying around the country doing deals, and, well . . . He didn't really mind when he found out, and he was getting his own on the side I found out later, but we started going downhill. We kept it together, more or less, for four years, and then he decided he was going to take a job back East, and I just didn't want to go. We were never angry with each other, just bored, and our divorce was easy. He let me keep the condo, all I have to do is pay him his share as rent, and in another six or seven years I'll have it paid off. They've bumped me up and up at Barnes & Nobles, and now I've got a job on the regional staff, I don't have to work weekends or nights, not too bad for a country girl." During the story she finished off the wine, but otherwise hardly took a breath. She waved the glass at me, "Got any more?"

"Sorry, I only brought the glass down."

"No problem. I've got a bottle of white in my refrigerator, I'll get it. Don't leave, okay?" and I watched her cute butt stroll off. I waited for at least ten minutes, and started to figure that she was teasing me, waiting in her living room for me to give up, but then I saw her returning in the murkiness. "Sorry I was so long, but I had to go really bad. I always do after a real good screw like Don gave me tonight. Give me your glass. Okay, so I told you my story, you tell me yours." She relaxed in the tub, big enough for thirty people and often holding that many, and waited. 

"Not all that much to tell. I'm a software engineer . . ." "I knew you were a geek!" ". . . work for Avilant, grew up in New York State, came out here and graduated from Berkeley. Got married, the divorce was final last week. No kids, thankfully."

"Was she screwing around?"

"Yes." My mind flashed to that strange night six months before when I found her at the neighbor's house, wrapped in my supposedly best friend's arms.

"Were you?"

"No, never, not once."

"Sorry about that." The tone was empathetic, yet had a taste of that's-the-way-it-goes-why-are-you-pitying-yourself. Or, perhaps, I was just imposing some of my late night, solitary conversations on her words. "You like it here?"

"I do. Great facilities, with the pool and hot tub and all. Seems like nice people."

"We are. Wait till the Christmas party. And Fourth of July." 

We floated for awhile, each keeping to our own side of the submerged bench, but finally she had to break the silence. "So when was the first time you got a look at me?"

I hesitated, she gave me a demanding look. "Maybe three weeks ago. You were lying on your bed, uhhhh . . ." "Masturbating?" ". . . yeah, and your light was on, and I was able to watch you from my deck." 

"Take any pictures that night?"

"No, just watched. It didn't even occur to me to take pictures until a couple of times later. You sure you don't mind?"

"I told you. The guy before you liked to watch, too, but his wife caught him and told me to keep my drapes drawn. It was a relief when they moved out, I really like to go nude. You're the only condo that can see me, you know."

"No, I didn't realize that."

"Look at the angles. Unless I stand close to the window or go out on my patio, the lower floors can't see anything, and there's no one else in sight. Oh, I guess the apartment building half a mile away could get a glimpse if they had really high powered telescopes, and you can never underestimate a pervert, can you?" I started yawning. I was finally relaxed enough to go to sleep. "Okay," she admitted, "I can wear you out pretty easily, can't I? But here's the deal. I want copies of all the pictures you take of me. Put them on an thumb drive or something, drop them off in the message box outside my door. And sleep tight, I won't bother you for the rest of the night." She waved a kiss to me as I walked away, she may have dropped the top of her suit.


Audrey was calling to me from her patio. "Hey, Perve!"


"Nice pictures! Thanks. You doing anything tomorrow night?" A Sunday, the loneliest time for a single guy.

"No, nothing."

"Cool. Take me to dinner. Seven o'clock? There's a nice Chinese place about a mile from here." That cracked me up, we're in the Bay Area, there are twenty 'nice Chinese places' a mile from anywhere. 

Later, she was getting dressed to go somewhere, casual, but she put on a slinky pink bra and panties under the jeans and blouse. I shot off forty pictures or so while she dressed, and this time she looked at the camera directly. She was extremely photogenic, her white teeth and delightful smile shone. And her naked breasts as well. But still, she kept the area between her waist and thighs protectively covered. I don't believe she turned her light on when she came home. If she came home.


I came out of my bathroom, showered and shaved, and glanced at her place. I face south, her windows go north, and before the sun sets and she turns on the lights, it's hard to see into her place. But she had lamps on in her living room, she was lying on her couch, her left side towards me. Without a stitch on, she had one hand on her breast, the other between her legs. I got the camera, and wasn't surprised when I caught a glimpse of blue, the plastic of a vibrator. She gave me quite a show, and I captured it for our later enjoyment. For fifteen minutes she entertained herself, apparently ignoring me. She orgasmed brightly, but her protecting leg never moved to a position where I caught the burying ground. When she breathed her final sigh she grabbed a towel, put it over her groin, sat up, faced me and mouthed, "don't be late."


Tea was in front of us, we were waiting for the soup, seated at a formica table in the back. "What kind of camera do you have?" 

"A Canon Rebel."

"What's that?"

"It's a DSLR." Seeing the confusion, I continued, "That means it's a sophisticated camera. I have three lenses. A prime lens, a wide angle zoom and a telephoto . . ." "See, I told you you were a geek." ". . . I can take just about any kind of shot in any kind of light. Did you see how sharp those pictures are? And that's from across the way, through the glass of your patio window. I could never get pictures like that with a point and shoot." 

"What's that?"

"That's one of those little cameras. You've probably got one."

"Oh, my Kodak? I love my Kodak."

"It's probably fine for snapshots. But my pictures turn out so much better."

"You're right," she agreed, "they do."

We were interrupted by the waiter, and when he poured the rice into the broth, we were treated to the rich smell and hissing sound. After pouring us a bowl each and leaving the rest on the table, he moved off. "Okay," she said, "time to find out more about you."

"Nothing more to find out. I told you everything."

"Not even close. Any girlfriends?"

"No, I haven't met anyone."

"And you're trying real hard, aren't you? Cooped up in your apartment whenever you're not at work. When was the last time you even talked to a girl?"

"I had lunch with two of them this week."

"And they were both married, weren't they?"

She had me, I smiled. "Well, one's just living with a guy." 

"You've got to have some interest, don't you? I mean, you're not taking those pictures of me just because, are you? You're thinking about getting laid, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm wondering about that. It's just that, well, I don't know, I keep thinking about her with him, and I get angry, and then . . . well, I guess I'm just not ready yet."

"She's still seeing him?"

"No, the bastard broke it off with her after he found out I knew. She told me she didn't really like him that much, he was just convenient. That's the word she used, 'convenient.' Like she just wanted sex from somebody else, and he just happened to be there. He told me that she came onto him when he stopped over one day and I wasn't around. So she was looking for it."

"Did she have anybody else, other guys?"

"She says no, but I think she's lying to me. I overheard her once on the phone, it sounded like she was making a date. A couple times she came home really late, so what was she doing?"

"Maybe she was just out with a girlfriend."

"Maybe," I agreed, but not with any sense of credibility.

"Any chance the two of you will get back together?"

"No. None at all. We went to a marriage counselor, did all that stuff. Took a romantic trip up to wine country. It didn't work. We were getting on each other's nerves, and finally we both just said the hell with it. About three weeks ago I stopped in to get some stuff I still had at her place, and there was a guy there. So, it's over, and good riddance." I raised my tea cup in salute to the lost woman.

We went mum for a few minutes, then she said, "Okay, women didn't do it, let's talk geek. So how'd you get into this photography thing?"

"I was a boy scout . . ." "I'll bet you were an eagle guy." "No, never got that high, only made it up to star. I still regret I didn't hang on. Anyway, they had a merit badge in photography, and one of the troop leaders was into it, and got me hooked. My folks bought me an Olympus OM-2, and I saved up for additional lenses. I was the photographer for my year book in high school, took a couple of courses in college. I knew I wasn't ever going to be a professional, but I truly enjoy the craft. I started out in landscapes, then I got into portraits."

"And dirty pictures!"

"And dirty pictures."

"Did you ever take pictures of your wife?"

"Yeah, that was a thing of ours."

"You should post them on the internet."

I thought about that for a few seconds. "I don't know. That would be mean, wouldn't it?"

"She's done some mean things to you."

"Maybe. It still doesn't seem right."

"Well, what about me?" Audrey suggested. "Would you put up pictures of me on the internet? Show everybody what you can do?"

"Would you like me to?"

"I wouldn't mind. It'd be kind of sexy, thinking about all those perverts out there, creaming themselves while looking at me."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"I don't joke," Audrey declared.

When we got home, we both went to our separate apartments, and Audrey waved to me from hers, then shut the curtains - no show that night. 


We both laid low for a couple of nights, then one night I heard something hit my window. It turned out to be frozen peas that Audrey was throwing at me. I went out onto the patio. "Hi there!"

"Hi there, yourself. Come over here, I've got something to show you."


"If I told you, you'd know, wouldn't you? Get your ass over here."

I went down the steps, across the walk, and up the steps. Her door was open, "Come on in," she hollered. She was wearing slacks and a t-shirt that read, 'Carpe Dame (seize the woman)'. She poured me a glass of wine, then motioned me to her laptop on the coffee table in front of the couch. I could see my place across the way, and then, on the computer screen I saw a picture I had taken of Audrey, fully naked but turned, of course, so her pelvis couldn't be seen. I glanced at the browser menu, saw that the address was She'd put them on the internet! "We're famous," she said, "I'm getting a lot of comments. All of them like me, except for a couple who are probably religious nuts."

I flipped through the pictures, there were eight of them, from one of the first series I'd taken. She was in her work clothes at the start, was stripping down and putting on sweats, her face easily recognizable. "Aren't you worried someone you know will see these?"

"I don't care. I think it'd be sort of neat if somebody recognized me."

The photos were the original pictures, not enhanced in any way. The levels were off, and in a few of them, the saturation should have been increased. I told her this, and she said, "Okay, you're in charge of making them look good before we submit them, then." We immediately went to work on the next batch - we decided it would be one where she was getting ready to go into the shower, then a couple after she came out - we cropped and brightened them up. After we sent them off, we leaned back.

"You like people looking at you, don't you?" 

"Of course I do," she answered, "I want everybody to see how good looking I am. That's what these," she cupped both of her rounded, artificial breasts, "are all about."

"How did you get into that?"

"Oh, that's a long story. When I was in high school, I was a little mouse. Flat chest, skinny legs, stringy hair, the whole works. On top of that, I was smarter than most of the boys. So, nobody pays any attention to me. I couldn't even get a date for the prom. Then I went to college, and it agreed with me. My first two years I grew two inches and filled out. Unfortunately, I was still just a small B cup. A friend of mine showed me how to apply makeup, and I spent a couple of hundred dollars on a hair stylist. All of a sudden the guys are tripping over each other trying to get to me. What a rush! Of course, most of them just wanted to get in my pants, but I didn't let them, of course. One time I needed some cash, and I found out that a local artist paid pretty good money for a girl to stand around in front of his class without any clothes on. After it was over, I'd look at the drawings the students did of me, and I was proud of what they saw in me. Some would emphasize my ass, others my bush, and a couple just drew me above my waist. I didn't like those pictures, they showed that I still didn't have any tits. And I found it turned me on, too. I had a boyfriend then, and after the modeling sessions I went over to his place and we screwed like rabbits. He finally stopped going out with me because I wanted too much sex from him. Can you imagine? Too much sex? I still think he was crazy or something. Anyway, I started doing things that would get me looked at. Skinny dipping with a bunch of guys, wet t-shirt contests, that kind of thing. After I got out of college, I sort of forgot about it, I guess I thought it was immature or something. Then I met Jim, and we started dating real seriously, and one day when we were at a beach he just pulled my top off. I think he thought I'd be pissed, but I started showing my stuff to all our friends who were there, and that night we had hot sex, just like I always did when I had a chance. So he started encouraging me to do stuff, flash people on the freeway, moon people, whatever. Then we got married, and it all just sort of stopped. Of course he knew that I didn't like my tits, so for my birthday he got me my breast enhancement. About five months later, after everything was healed up and they were finally looking pretty good, I got him to take me to a strip club on amateur night, and I got up on stage and showed everybody what I had, and I was real happy with the reaction, but Jim was pissed. He told me that they were only for him to look at, and he didn't want anybody to think I was easy, which I never have been, Jim didn't get any until the eighth date, and I told him to go screw himself, I'd show these to anybody I wanted to, and I went back up on the stage, and that just pissed him off more. We didn't have sex that night, and now that I look back on it that was the beginning of the end. So, anyways, we start having our affairs, and then when Jim was out of town one night I noticed the guy that was living in your place with his wife was looking at me so I went into the bedroom and stripped and started masturbating and I notice he wanked off while I was getting off myself. And that started it. After Jim split I'd go to nude beaches, and wear revealing tops and all that kind of stuff. And that's how it happened." Finally, she took a sip of her wine and a breath.

"Cool," I said. 

"Yeah, it is," she agreed, "but listen, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. Just 'cause I like to strip doesn't mean I sleep around. I don't. It takes a long time for a guy to get anywhere with me. Remember Don the other night? That was the first time we ever screwed. We've been dating for over five months! With me, you've got to hang around a long time before I'll put out. Oh, if a guy gets really hard up I'll give him a hand job or something. But he doesn't put it anywhere until I really, really trust him."

I thought this was overshare, but it was okay by me. Somehow, I wasn't thinking of trying anything with her anyway. I liked looking at her, and taking her picture, but that was sort of it. I changed the subject. "So you're happy with the pictures?"

"Pretty much," she agreed, "but when you focus in on me, they start to get blurry and splotchy, don't they."

"Yep. That's graniness. There's not a lot I can do about it."

"Why not?"

"Well, to get close, I have to use a long telephoto lens. And the lighting leaves a lot to be desired."

"What could we do about it?"

"Not a lot, due to the distance between your apartment and mine."

"But," she thought, "if you were in the same place with me, they'd be better?"

"Quite a bit. And if I was able to use some better lighting, that'd improve them a bunch, too."

"Hmmm . . . you wouldn't take advantage of me, would you?"

"Of course not!" I was wounded, no woman has ever thought that about me. "What do you think I am?"

"A pervert, of course," she laughed. "Well, I'm going to have to think about that. All right, now get out of here. I've got things to do."

I went back to my place, and turned the tube on. Audrey was puttering around, then went into her bedroom and came back out dressed in a halter top that barely covered the lower half of her breasts and sleek leotards. She turned bright lights on and started stretching, and I got out my camera. She kept up her workout routine, sit ups, jumping jacks, and suddenly, looking right into the camera, she took her top off. Through the lens I could see that her nipples were rock hard, and pointing a good ways from the roundness. She kept up her routine, then got a towel out and sexily started wiping herself off. She turned her back to me and took the leotards off. I was photographing her ass and saw that she had a thong on, pink. Then she turned to me and I saw it was the smallest g-string I'd ever seen, just a patch, maybe two inches square, covering her front, but not by much. She started playing with the strings, threatening to uncover more, then she turned her back to me again and took the panties off. Since she'd never revealed her entire front to me, I assumed at this point she'd pick up the towel, cover herself and walk off into the bedroom. 

I was wrong! Slowly, she turned around, vamping for the camera, fig leafing herself with a raised leg, then putting it down so I could finally see the area below her navel. She was completely shaved, and in this pose, you could see the beginning of the slit between her puffy lips, engorged with the exercise, or perhaps the thought that she was exposing herself to me. She walked around a bit, allowing me to photograph her nudity, then laid back down on the floor and did some more sit-ups. The session ended with her lying on her side, facing me, and raising her leg so that the pussy lips were as exposed as possible. After she made sure I had enough time to focus and zip off half a dozen photos, she made a kiss to me then walked to the window and closed her drapes.

Wow! This was the hottest I'd ever seen her, and I quickly downloaded the pics to my computer. I picked out the best twenty and set to work with photoshop, cropping and enhancing and filtering my heart out until I had the perfect set. Then I emailed them to her, and went to sleep, or at least to bed.


Saturday night, she prepared for a date with Don with her usual insouciance. She displayed herself fully for my camera when she came out of the bathroom, put on a tiny g-string, got a bra out and then hurled it back in the drawer, pulled a little black party dress over her head, tucked her breasts into the halter top, swirled around so the glossy tulle fabric of her skirt rose high on her legs, sat and slipped on ebony high heels. A few moments later she received a phone call and skipped out the door.

I had nothing else to do, so I trekked to the swimming pool. It was warm and perhaps fifty or sixty people were in the area, playing volleyball in the pool, chatting in the hot tub, drinking beer and cooking on the barbecue. I chatted with some guys I played basketball with, joined in the volleyball, just hung out. After an hour and a half or so, I went back to my apartment, made some spaghetti, and worked on the series of photos I'd taken earlier. Once I had the best ten, (Voyeurweb only lets you post ten at a time,) I emailed them to Audrey. Not long after, she returned home, Don in tow. She made drinks, and opened up the glass door to her patio. I heard her say that it was warm, but she looked my way and gave me a little wink. They sat on the sofa and began making out. Before long, Don had her top down and was sucking on her fantastic tits, and she unzipped him and went down on him. I thought they'd head into the bedroom, but they kept going, stripping the clothes off each other, playing with bare skin. At one point, while Don's head was between her legs, Audrey looked directly at me and smiled for the camera. In time, they were both completely naked and Audrey helped him put on a condom. She knelt on the floor, her elbows on the coffee table, and Don crawled behind her, placed his rod at her opening, and pushed. I had my extreme telephoto lens on and the camera was on a tripod; I got a few great shots, fairly tight, of his cock penetrating her. They switched positions, she was lying on the floor and he was above her, then she was in cowgirl, fondling his sack behind her when he grimaced and I could tell he was coming. Surprisingly, it didn't appear that she'd orgasmed. They hugged for awhile, she lying naked beside him, their legs toward me so that I got great shots of their private parts. She had her legs wide open, I was able to zoom in on her pussy, the tunnel open with the sport. A while later he rose and dressed, he wasn't going to stay the night. After the door was closed she came out, still naked, onto the patio and called, "Hey! Perve!"

"Hi, Audrey!"

"Enjoy the show?"

"Yeah! It was fantastic."

"Meet me at the hot tub, ten minutes."


I beat her down to the pool, there were two couples in one end talking amongst themselves, and soon Audrey arrived in a one piece swimsuit; of course the halter pushed her impeccable breasts up, almost to the point of overspilling the cups. She slid into the pool and poured us both a glass of wine from the bottle she'd fetched. Her mood, so unlike the usual bubbly Audrey I'd come to know, was somber, defeated. "I think I'm going to have to throw Don back in the lake," she confided.

"Why? You seemed to have a good time with him tonight."

"He had a great time. And, don't get me wrong, he knows his stuff in bed. But I don't trust him."

"Why not?"

"Well, he's trying to take control recently, not letting me do my thing. Tonight, for example, after dinner we stopped at a bar. I caught some guys looking at me, so I started hiking up my skirt. And I bent over so they could get a good look down my front. Don saw what I was doing, and he told me to stop it. Said they'd get the wrong idea of me. Hell, when we met he was trying to get a good look himself. That didn't give him the wrong idea, did it?"

"Well, maybe if you told him that kind of attitude doesn't work for you, he might back off."

"Maybe. But that's not the biggest thing. He chased me for months, and the only reason I finally let him catch me was that I hadn't had sex in over a year, and I was getting pretty horny. It was a mistake, and I'm paying for it. Even though he tries hard, I can't get off with him. Just doesn't work for me. I come real close, but then just as I'm starting, my brain clamps down. I guess you could say I'm selectively frigid."

"Wow. You're frigid? I'd never think you were, not in a million years."

"Just with some guys. Others, I can have a good time with. If I trust them, completely. Jim never had any trouble with me, the first time we ever screwed he had me hanging from the chandeliers. He could make me come so hard I'd be sore for days. Even years after we were married. Then I found out he was screwing around on me and I couldn't get there any more. It's all a matter of trust." She took a long swallow of the wine, slipped a little further into the hot water, jiggled her toes. "Did you ever have any troubles like that?"

"Like what?"

"You know. You're there with the girl, and you can't get it up?"

Should I tell her? Ah, why not? "Just once, before I was married. I got set up with this girl, she was really good looking, a model, and when I go to drop her off, she tells me to come up. I couldn't believe it. I mean, she was so good looking, and there I am . . ." "a geek?" "yeah, well, so there I am, and she's doing everything she can, and my guy just isn't having any of it. Nothing at all. I was so embarrassed! I'm sure she's still laughing about it."

"Maybe," Audrey consoled. "Don't worry about it. It's happened with me, plenty of times. I tease and tease and tease, and finally I let them grab me -- I'm not going to go all the way with them, but I'm going to make sure they're not frustrated -- and all that's in my palm is a handful of silly putty." She looked at me, I thought she was going to say something, then she stopped. I could see the gears shifting, then she said, "You doing anything tomorrow?"

It wasn't the first thing she was going to ask me, I was sure of that, but I had no idea what had been on her mind. "No, nothing really. Why?"

"I thought maybe we could go to the beach. It's supposed to be warm."

"Yeah, I could get into that."

"Okay, let's leave around ten."

"Sounds good."

She looked at me, then leaned over and gave me a little kiss on the cheek. "Okay then, Perve, see you in the morning." She got out of the pool, and her fanny waved as she walked. Then she called over her shoulder, "Perve, bring your camera."


Audrey was driving at break neck speed on the curvy Highway 17, over the mountains and down the slopes towards Santa Cruz, the crisp air blowing through the sunroof. Then north on Highway 1, with the ocean on our left, and we found the parking lot she was looking for. Down to the beach, then we strolled until we found a gap in the cliff, affording us some shelter from the surging winds. The day was beautiful, no fog, just the light mist you expect from the heavy seas and waves. We passed perhaps 40 people on the way, 25 or 30 who were either topless or completely unclothed. We spread our blankets and other stuff, then Audrey said, "Get it out!" 

"Excuse me?"

"Get it out! Your camera. This is your big chance to get close to me, dude!"

I figured it out. Audrey wanted me to take nude pictures of her on the beach. I got my camera body out, and decided to go with the 85 mm lens -- just right for sharp pictures of her with blurred backgrounds. Since I anticipated that she'd be moving around some -- I'd learned enough to realize Audrey never stays still. I decided to forego the tripod, trusting my lens stabilization system to give me crisp pictures. By the time I'd set up Audrey had stripped off her shorts and shirt and was in the tiniest bikini I'd ever seen -- at least live. Two straps that covered her nipples, a tiny strip of fabric hiding the most intimate patch of her groin. A couple of guys drifting by whistled, she gave them a smile and a thumbs up. I started flipping off pics, she just moved around, giving me splendid angles of her rump, legs, face and neck, torso, and -- of course -- those magnificent breasts. After thirty shots or so, she loosened the string holding the top, whipped it off. The nipples were hard and scrunched from the chill of the air and, I suppose, the excitement of the photo shoot. When I'd shot her chest from every angle possible, it was time to take off the bottom. She was freshly shaven down there, and she displayed her crotch for the camera in various postures. Standing up facing the camera, with her back facing me, bending over so the lips shone in the sun, sitting, lying down with her legs closed, then open. She encouraged me to come as near as possible and take close ups of the gorgeous folds of skin. Her clit was just visible, I wanted to touch it and reveal it just a bit more, but I wasn't sure if Audrey would take offense, so I let it be. I noticed that my dick was making a tent out of the front of my jeans; Audrey noticed it and smiled.

When it seemed to me that we'd pretty much done this scene, I put the camera back in the case. "Okay," Audrey declared, "this is a nude beach. Take 'em off." I thought about the settings that would be required to take photos of a nearby rock and the surf pounding it, and before long my dick was back to it's normal flaccid self, so off my clothes came. Audrey resolutely inspected my penis with interest. I'm neither proud nor ashamed of my private parts. From what I'd seen in locker rooms and such, and from the comments of my girlfriends and ex-wife, I'm neither larger nor smaller than average, and perhaps a bit thicker. Audrey confirmed my estimation by her comment, "Not bad!" and I laid down on the blanket near her. I tried to keep my eyes off her body, for fear that I'd grow a woodie again.

"Okay, so, how come you aren't dating yet, Perve?" Audrey began her inquisition.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? Can't you find anybody to go out with?"

"Haven't tried."


I thought for a few moments, trying to phrase my reluctance correctly. "I guess, when I was married to Ann, that I thought I was set for the rest of my life. Ann and I had pretty much figured out what we wanted, we were at the point where we were going to start having babies, we had enough money. We knew, or at least I knew, what was going to go down for the rest of our lives. I was really happy. Then she goes and turns it all upside down. So now, I've got to put it all back into perspective. And I'm not sure I really want to play the field. Oh, I get horny and all, but it seems to me that if I started dating a girl, trying to get to know her and all, she'd have a pretty rough time with me right now. My shrink says I'm not completely stable yet . . ." "He's just trying to string you along so you keep paying your cumshaw." ". . . maybe, but I don't want to make someone else miserable right now."

"Okay. So you just want somebody to walk into your life and be a substitute for your ex-wife, huh? Just pick up where you left off?"

"No, I know that's not going to happen. Whoever -- if anybody -- is next on the list isn't going to be like Ann. Even if I could have that, I don't think I'd want it. I know Ann's every little irritating habit . . ." "Like sleeping around on you?" ". . . yeah, that, but leaving the top off the ketchup bottle, and swilling the wine around in her mouth until you think she's gonna blow bubbles. The little things. No, I want the next woman to have all new irritating habits."

This brought a good laugh from Audrey. "Okay, so how many kids?"

"Ann wanted three, I was only good for one, maybe two."

"And the little suburban home with the picket fence around it?"

"Well, how about a tract house in Milpitas."

"And you'd be happy with that?"

"It was what we were going for. Now, I don't know. I'd want somebody who was a little more adventurous, I guess. Ann didn't even want to drive up to San Francisco on a Saturday to see a play. She said it was too long of a drive, she'd be too tired by the time we got home."

For the first time, Audrey didn't respond to the statement, she always had a retort. But she was quiet for so long that I looked over to see if she was napping. Finally, she said, "I think you'll find someone."

We laid there a while longer, soaking up the rays, and then Audrey grew restless, demanded we take a walk. I worried about leaving my camera and gear here, but Audrey scoffed, told me to hide the bag under the blanket, we'd stay close. We walked towards the surf, and Audrey reached over to hold my hand. Her grip was gentle and warm, I enjoyed this mild contact. We skipped over to the surf, let the numbing residue of the rollers brush our feet. A Frisbee sailed towards us, Audrey picked it out of the water and adeptly flung it back over to the guys who'd let it get away. A couple of clothed gawkers walked by, said, "How's about it, baby," and leered at her, she simply said, "You wish, you don't have what it takes," and then ignored them.

When we returned to our blanket, we were frozen with the wind and icy air, we decided we'd had enough for the day, and we put our clothes back on and packed up. Audrey drove back to Santa Cruz and found a trendy pub away from the tourist area. We sat at the bar, had beers, artichoke dip and sandwiches. We got into a discussion with the people sitting around, nothing special, just a good time.

When we got back to the apartment, it was a bit after seven, the sun was just approaching the horizon, Audrey invited me up to her apartment. She put on some music, eighties rock, and got a deck of cards out. "You know how to play gin rummy, don't you?"

"Not really. Teach me." She did, it was a favorite game of hers, she'd played it with her father when she was a teenager, I got the hang of it and we played for a couple of hours, drinking diet cola. Every once in awhile our hands would touch when we'd reach for a card, and a little spark would kindle in my skin. I was having ideas, but between nine and ten, she kicked me out, suggesting we both had to go to work in the morning. When I got up to my place, she was in her bedroom, brushing her hair. She visited the bathroom for the evening's last duties, and when she came out she was au natural, she waved to me, slid between her sheets and turned her light off. It was time for me to go to bed, too


Audrey laid low for the next few days. I'd see her lights go on and off, but the drapes remained closed. I sent her twenty optimized pictures from the beach and got the email response, 'go ahead and post them.'

Thursday night, around nine, there was a knock at my door. "Got a beer?" she asked.

"Come on in." I cleaned my couch of the potato chip bags and dirty dishes so she could sit down, then got her the beer. "What's up?"

"I'm heading to Yosemite this weekend with Don. I was about to tell him Monday night that we were through, but I never got there. He was all excited that he scored a room in the Lodge, and said he wanted to make it real romantic. He apologized for how he acted at the bar, and, well, hell, I've got to give him another chance."

"You don't seem real excited about it."

"I'm not. Oh, I am, I love the valley and the view from Glacier Point, but the more I think about it, the less it seems that Don is the guy."

"So don't go." It seemed easy to me.

"But, Perve, I'll be thirty-six in three months. If I don't start something soon, well, I'll never be a mother. And right now there's nobody else on the horizon." A very big sigh, finally, "Well, I'll go, and see what happens, I guess. What's the worst?" She downed the rest of the beer, headed for the door. "I've got to go pack, we're leaving right after work."

"Call me, will you, let me know how it went?"

"Oh, you'll be the first, I promise."


Sunday noon, I was watching sports on TV and I heard the frozen peas crunching against my window. "Hey," I called across the top of the trees. 

"Perve, I'm starved," she said, "haven't eaten since last night. Take me to lunch?"

"Sure. What happened?"

"I'll tell you all about it."

We quietly walked three blocks up to the Applebees, Audrey was really steaming about whatever it was, and it was only after she had a salad in front of her that she opened up. "It was nice enough on Friday, we got up there and had dinner at the Ahwahnee, drove around the valley just as it was getting dark to see the animals coming out, and then headed back to our room. I thought it was going to be nice and romantic, but he said he was tired so it was real quick and by 10:30 he was snoozing. The next day he wanted to get up real early and see the waterfalls before all the tourists were around, so nothing there. Then late in the afternoon we were walking around the base of the falls, and there was a bunch of people playing around in the water, and I joined them. Don wouldn't come in, he thought we might get hurt or something. Well, I'm having fun, and my t-shirt gets all wet, and I was wearing a thin bra, and, well, you could see almost everything. I didn't care, the guys were running around with their shirts off, and I didn't see why I couldn't do it. It got a little physical, nothing serious, just a little grab-ass, and when I got back on the path, Don was all steamed. He said I made a fool out of myself, and all that stupid stuff, and we had a big argument, right there. People were looking at us, and one guy came over and asked me if Don was bothering me, and it was just a scene. I just hiked back to the lodge by myself and went in and took a bath, and when I came out, Don started in on me again. I went to dinner by myself, just walked around, and when I got back to the room he was still in a mood. I slept on the couch in our room, and we got up early and drove back home, didn't say three words the whole trip. So, that's over. And I say, 'Thank God, I don't have to put up with him anymore.'"

"Sounds like you enjoyed yourself in the waterfall. I would have loved to be there to take photos." A laugh from her, the clouds vaporized, she was back to being Audrey.

"I don't know why, but I like you, Perve. You're good for me. Whatta you want to do the rest of the day? You any good at tennis?"

We played four sets, we both won two, then we decided to go for a dip in the little pool close to our apartments, not the big pool by the rec center. She wore her little bikini again, and when we came out of the water the fabric had turned almost translucent, her nipples were pointing for the big blue sky. I ran up and got my camera and shot off twenty pics. Quite a bit of foot traffic was streaming by, the word had gotten out and all the guys wanted to get a good view of the camel toe. I laughed as Audrey vamped for her flock of admirers. Later, we went over to the supermarket, got talapia and rice for dinner, I cooked it with olive oil, lemon juice and garlic, and we ate it on her patio. After the dinner we sat on her couch and watched Netflix. It was a typical chick flick, and about halfway through Audrey turned around, put her back up against my side and wrapped my arm around her, my hand resting on her stomach. When she flicked the TV off with the remote, I wondered what was going to happen. "Perve," she said, "could I ask you for a favor?"


"Would you mind kissing me? That's all, just kiss me?"


She turned around towards me, we rearranged ourselves, and she put her lips up to me. I tried to make it a good one, she took over and got a little aggressive, not that I minded. She bit my lower lip gently, had her hand in my hair, I put my hands on her back, massaged her shoulders a bit. We broke, she complimented, "You're pretty good. Let's try that again." And we did. Except for our faces and hands, we didn't touch anywhere else. We kept it up for perhaps ten minutes, I rubbed her earlobes and neck and was beginning to think about maybe making a move towards her side when she pushed away from me. "Whew, you could be addictive. Now, go on, get out of here, and think about me when you get to bed."

I went back to my place, and found that she was still on her couch, her fingers inside her shorts. I sat in my darkened room, watched her, and decided not to get my camera out, instead following the example she was setting.


During a midweek evening, the peas hit my window again. "Hey, I just washed the windows yesterday!!"

"Aw, poor baby. Hey, you want to come over, and bring your camera?"

"Sure!" This sounded promising. I packed up my stuff, headed over. She was waiting for me in the clothes she'd obviously went to work in, tailored slacks and a button down blouse. She greeted me with a little kiss on the lips, nothing heated, but it warmed me to think we'd made it to this point.

"I was thinking you could take some pictures of me here, instead of through the windows, across the way. The shots you took on the beach were so much clearer. What do you think?"

"You think you can trust me?"

A timorous smile, "I'm getting there. You wouldn't give me any reason not to trust you, would you?"

"Never in a million years," I promised. 

"So, what do you think we should do? How should I dress?"

The idea immediately sprang to my mind. "How about we do a series about you getting home from work, then taking a shower and getting ready for bed?"

"I like it."

We put our heads together, then walked out to her car, I took her behind the wheel then getting out of the car, waltzing through the garden path to her stairs, then into the apartment. She vamped, first taking off her blouse, revealing a pretty, if utilitarian, blue bra, then getting a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Then the pants came off and she traipsed into the bathroom. Turning the water on, then off came the bra and panties. Into the shower, full frontal nudity, soaping up, washing between her legs, then out, toweling dry, then back into the bedroom, finding the perfect teddy, and between the sheets. It was a great shoot, I knew we'd have enough for two or three full series on Voyeurweb. 

I put my camera stuff away, and when I was done, she was sitting, still in her lingerie, on the sofa. 

"It excites me, you know," she observed.


"Yes. Does it excite you, too, or do you get so wrapped up in fiddling with all those dials that you forget I'm here?"

"How could I blank out all that beauty?"

It was a clear invitation to make out, and I pulled her toward me. She willingly sank into my arms, and we kissed. I loved to kiss Audrey, she was pliant and aggressive at the same time. The session was a series of deep kisses, gentle meetings of the lips and occasional forays to ears, noses and chins. Her hands held my shoulders and back, and sometimes rubbed along my face and arms, and I followed suit. When one of her hands stroked my chest, I felt free to begin a similar onslaught, and gently brought my palm up her stomach, to the base of her breasts, and then, without any protest from her, cupped the mound fully in my hand. She kissed me deeply, letting me know I was allowed this boon, and then I flicked her nipple, firm and pointed. She released a gasp, then kissed me again, hard. I played with both of her breasts and nipples through the fabric of her lingerie, and her breath was in short spurts, she was enjoying the attention. A few minutes later, I left the breasts, descended to the belly, and then felt the elastic of her panties.

"I think that's enough for tonight," she commanded. One last kiss, then she pushed me off her, stood and escorted me to the door. "To the next time," she promised.

Safe within her apartment, and me in mine, we once again brought ourselves off, she in light, I in darkness.


Friday lunch hour, I got a call from Audrey. "Okay, pick a movie. Chick flick, romantic comedy, superhero, vampires."


"Cool. Meet me at my car, 6:55 sharp." And at the time, I was standing there, waiting. Ten minutes later, she came running around the bushes, hurried. "I'm sorry, completely lost track." She got behind the wheel, drove like a madwoman west, never quite running red lights, but making me nervous nonetheless, until we got to the El Paseo shopping center. She bought popcorn and a coke, and seemed to enjoy the movie almost as much as I did. She really got into the conversions of the hero as he changed from normal to superguy, and during the fight scenes she'd wince each time somebody got hit, and then encourage the protagonist to do it again, harder!

We laughed as we left the theatre, then drove to a little pizza shop I knew about, great sauce, good beer and a pinball machine. We put about eight dollars into it, and when it was my turn she'd put her hand on my back, or even the top of my butt, and I felt free to do the same to her. When I opened the hidden cavern and then buried the ball in it, she whispered sexily in my ear, "Ooooh, you got it in the hole!" 

The staff kicked us out at eleven, telling us merrily to come back again, and then she drove up Big Basin way, squealing tires through the hairpin turns, climbing the mountain until we reached Skyline Boulevard, and she turned onto a dirt road, and drove a quarter of a mile, then we stopped. The view below us, of the Silicon Valley with it's millions of twinkling lights was majestic. We absorbed it in silence, my arms around her shoulders, hers encircling my hips, and then kissed. "Get in the back seat," she directed, and I climbed over the reclined front seat while she clambered in beside me. In seconds, she had her blouse off and her bra unsnapped, and my polo shirt over my head. 

For the first time we were skin to skin, at least above the waist, and while kissing we scrunched around until I was more or less lying above her. I kissed her breasts, sucked on her nipples, and was surprised to find her hands loosening my belt, unzipping me, then her hand was inside my briefs, grasping my hardness. She felt me completely down there, from the base of my testicles to the tip of the shaft. Then she reached into her purse, got a packet of cream out and spilt it unto her hand, then grabbed my penis once more. Stroking it with the silkiness of the lubricant, she implored, "Go ahead, baby, enjoy yourself." Within seconds I was spewing into her palm, she held me, kissed me deeply while I came. When I was over my arousal, she got some tissues out, sopped the residue up. We lied there, I still on top, and continued to kiss and play with each other, and when I attempted to put a finger inside her jeans, she wordlessly stopped me. Soon, of course, the cramps came and we got back into the front seat. She neglected to put her top on, and drove down into the valley. A carful of teenaged boys came alongside, got a good look at her, and started hooping and hollering. At a red light, she turned towards them, completely exposing her ample chest to them and gave them an air kiss. I just laughed at her playfulness.

At the complex, her blouse on and the bra in her pocket, she held me as we separated for the night, we kissed. "Wine tasting tomorrow?"


"We leave at nine. Bring your camera."


We drove up I280, one of the most beautiful stretches of freeway anywhere in the country, her iPhone playing songs of the '80s, and we were singing at the top of our lungs. Through the City, the fog smothering the car, across the Gate bridge, and then through sunny Marin and we hit Sonoma county. We looked for small wineries, ones we'd never heard of before, and hit two of them. I noticed she had a predilection for sweet whites, I'm more of a sturdy red kind of guy. I flicked off some artistic pictures of the vines and barrels, and got a few of Audrey vamping. We stopped at a deli, got a selection of meats and cheeses, and a huge loaf of sourdough.

We drove up into the mountains, found a dirt logging road, and then drove up it a quarter of a mile until we found a small meadow. Audrey had packed a huge blanket, and we spread it on the dried grass, out of sight of the car. Munching on the picnic, she started undressing herself right there. I got some great shots of her body against the tawny grass and contorted trunks of the live oaks. In the middle of the shoot, she insisted I become clothed - or unclothed - as she was; of course, I had an erection. We went on with our picture taking, and then she laid on the blanket and I joined her. 

Our lips met, and the rest of our bodies. My chest was against hers, our ankles entwined, and my rock hard penis was against her belly. Eventually, my hands caressed her hips, and I attempted to reach between her legs. "Please don't," she whispered. 

"Why not?" It was much more a plea than a demand.

"I'm just not ready yet." I desisted, but her hand went to my genitals and patiently drew the semen from my body. She seemed to know just how to touch me, to give me a marvelous orgasm just from her stroking. As the seed spurted into the air, she kissed my earlobe, providing me with even more sensation. And when I was done, she played with the liquid on my stomach, massaging it into my skin until it was completely dried.

"You liked that, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," a tone of regret tinging my voice.

"But you'd like to do more?"

"Yes, I'd like to make you feel as good as you made me feel."

She thought for a moment, then rolled on top of me. Her thighs enclosed my hips, her opening was right where, if my penis hadn't been soft by now, it would have entered her. "Someday, I think, I'll want that to be. But not right now, I'm just not ready for that. I'm a very cautious girl. Can you wait for me?"

"If you want me to," I replied.

"I think I do."

We bathed in the sun, our bodies becoming dotted with perspiration, slowly drinking another glass of wine. Then we dressed, walked back to the car, drove south. Her hand was in my lap, when I put mine on her thigh, she didn't make me take it away. As we approached the Bridge, she asked, "You want to go into the City?"


She unashamedly sought out the tourist areas, driving down Lombard street, stopping into Ghirardelli Square, then to a saloon in Pacific Heights where we ate salads. Night had dropped by the time we were done, and the neighborhood was hooded in fog. We walked, hand in hand, through the streets of Victorians, enjoying the smells and our company. And then it was back into the car for the drive home.

"You have any plans for tomorrow?" she asked.

"You know better than that." 

"Well, my parents are having a 'let's-get-the-kids-together' dinner. Would you like to come?"

"Sure," I answered, perhaps too quickly.

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Perve."


The backyard of the Castro Valley home swam in sunlight, the barbecue was steaming, Ashley and Josh (ten and eight years old) were playing in the treehouse their grandfather had built for them, Martha (Audrey's mother) was nursing a glass of wine, and relating a story. "I named Julie for Julie Andrews in 'Sound of Music,' and Audrey for Audrey Hepburn in 'My Fair Lady.' If we'd had a son, he would have been 'Max' for Max van Sydow." She was into films of the sixties, obviously.

"More likely Maxwell Smart," joked Bill, Audrey's father.

Also sitting around, under the shade of the awning was Audrey's sister and brother in-law. It was a pleasant gathering, something I hadn't seen a whole lot of since I'd moved out from Syracuse. The family seemed altogether too normal, a lack of drama that you don’t often see today, the kids too young to have picked up the exasperating habits of teenagerism. 

"Grandma, can we go ride our bikes?" Josh asked.

"I'm a little tired right now," Martha demurred.

"They need to be watched?" I asked.

"Even though it's a cul-de-sac, I don't like it when they're not in sight of someone."

"Oh, Grandma, we're old enough. At least I am. We won't go off the streets," Ashley begged.

"Let me take them," I offered.

"You don't have to, you're a guest."

"But I'd like it," I insisted, and let the two younglings drag me to the garage where their bikes and helmets resided, then out to the street. I watched them speed up and down the block, Josh was trying to impress me, doing wheelies (just six inches off the concrete,) and playing catch me if you can with each other. 

Ten minutes later, Audrey joined me, we sat on the curb, she yelled encouragements to the children. "You're actually enjoying yourself."

"What's not to like," I answered. "you've got a nice family."

"You should have seen us when I had my abortion, it was hell around here."

"You had an abortion?"

"While I was in college. I was just sloppy. For a week, it was a constant uproar, everybody seesawing back and forth, not sure whether I should have the baby or not. Of course, everybody said it should be my decision, and in the end it was, but then they'd put in their two cents. My mother held my hand while it was done, and Julie and Dad couldn't nurse me enough for the next two days."

Silence for fifteen seconds, I didn't know just how far I could take the subject. Finally, "Are you sorry?"

". . . Yes . . . No . . . He'd be fifteen now, I'm convinced it would have been a boy, and I wonder what he'd be like. Of course, my life would have been so much different, and I'm happy with the way the rest has turned out. I don't know." 

Her eyes misted up, I put my arm around her back, she leaned into me. Soon Josh rode past, yelled, "Watch, Aunt Audrey," and she smiled at her nephew. The vulnerability was suddenly over, her smile was back.

Dinner was around the dining room table, cut crystal - perhaps antique - and good silverware. I was alerted to the fact that it was used every month, a tradition. Afterwards, Bill took me out back where he smoked a cigar, and he probed me about my politics, relieved when he found out I was leaning towards liberalism, but not a fanatic about it. I got out my camera, took some candid shots of the family, then at Audrey and Jane's request, got Bill and Martha in their living room, took a couple of more formal shots.

Towards dusk, Ed and Julie packed up the kids for the drive over to the Peninsula, and Audrey and I took our leave as well. The forty minute drive was quiet, soft jazz on the radio, Audrey's hand in mine. On the sidewalk outside our apartments, I asked if I could come up, Audrey told me no. "I might do something I'd regret later."

Monday evening, I was driving home from work, my cell phone chirped. "Did you see that new contest?" Audrey asked.

"What new contest?"

"On Voyeurweb. 'Well-oiled' is the name of it. It was just announced over the weekend. I was thinking we could get in to it. There's still some sunlight tonight."

"Hmmm, let me think about it. Do you have any oil?"

"Plenty, that's not a problem, Perve."

"Okay, I'll call you back when I get home." And when I got to my apartment, I looked on the site. There were six or seven entries at that point, each of them of a woman at a beach or a pool, all oiled up, nothing special, I knew I could do better than that. If I could get Audrey to the nude beach, or someplace out in the woods where she could expose herself, I could ace this. But that wasn't going to happen that evening, for the sun was low in the sky, and the only place in the apartment complex that was in full sunlight was a corner of the main swimming pool, and Audrey certainly couldn't pose in the nude there. Well, I thought, who said it had to be sunlight?

"Hey," I said into the phone. "I need to go shopping. Want to come with me?"

"What about the photo shoot?"

"That's what I'm shopping for."

A few minutes later, we were in my car. Neither of us had eaten, so we stopped at a burrito place, then made our way to a Jo-Ann Fabric, where for less than $15, I bought 5 yards of thick black felt, six feet wide. Then it was back to my place, where I spent half an hour arranging the cloth, hanging half of it on the wall to create a backdrop, putting half of it on the floor for Audrey to sit or lay on. Then I needed strong lighting, I already had one portable spot, and I made another out of a lamp with a 150 watt bulb and tin foil. While I was setting up, Audrey got the oil and primped, doing her hair and eyes, shaving her legs because I knew that in bright lights we'd be using any stray hairs would stand out.

She took off everything, not only clothes but her necklace and rings, and we spent ten minutes applying two coats of oil. What a pleasure it was to rub the oil into her back, her legs, her rear. Then she stretched out on the fabric, and I took my time arranging her limbs until they were perfect, and if more oil was needed to create the sheen I wanted, I rubbed it onto her skin. I took the pictures with the camera on a mini-tripod, using a remote control so there would be absolutely no shaking. After an hour we only had a couple of dozen pictures, but they were the best that I could take of her entire body, her legs, her rump, closeups of the land between her legs, the mountains of her chest. My favorite was of her standing with a look of longing on her face, her eyes closed, tugging at a thong she was wearing.

After I was satisfied with the results, she said, "It doesn't have to be just me, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"Take off your clothes," she demanded, "and lay down." Since I figured it would wind up being fun I obliged, and a couple of moments later I was nude and on my back. She asked some questions about where to put the camera and such, and then she handed me the remote. "You're in charge of taking the pictures, I'm in charge of making something interesting happen." Then she began applying the oil to my testicles and penis, and under the circumstances, it wasn't long until I was rock hard. I kept clicking the remote while she worked with her palms and fingers, and a few moments later I was still taking pictures as creamy brine leapt from the little eyelet, surging eighteen inches, mingling with the oil and flowing over Audrey's fingers. 

She glided over my body in the excitement of the experiment, her legs on top of mine, our stomachs together, her breast applying pressure to my chest, our lips meshed. "I want to make you feel as good as you made me," I implored.

"I want to, Perve, I really, really want to. I just can't."

"Why not?"

"It's a mystery. I wish I knew. Just not yet."

Tuesday, as I edited and submitted the two very different submissions, I noticed she wasn't home.


I called her Wednesday, eight o'clock. She wasn't home yet, and when she answered I heard the sounds of a restaurant, the voice of a man. "This is Audrey," she said, in a most impersonal voice. 

"Hey, it's me."

"Oh, hello. I can't talk right now, I'm in the middle of something, can I call you back later?"

"Sure," I agreed. I didn't hear from her the rest of the night, but I saw her lights come on around eleven. She didn't open her drapes.


"There were some guys in from corporate, we had to take them to dinner. It went late, and I didn't see your lights on," Audrey explained over the phone the next day. "So I didn't call."

"That's fine," I agreed, "Want to do something tonight?"

"I can't, they're still here, we're going to have a long night tonight. There's some changes going down, and it's pretty intense. Why don't we do something Friday? Say about eight?"

"Sure," I agreed. That night, when she still wasn't home at midnight, I wondered if there really was a corporate visit, or . . .


"Listen," she said when she telephoned later, "A very old friend from college is going to be in San Francisco Friday night, and I'll only have this one chance to see her. Would you mind terribly if I canceled? I haven't seen her in years. Please don't be mad, okay?"

Peevishly, I agreed, "Sure, Saturday?"

"Oh, that's not going to any good either. We're opening a new store in Sacramento, and I'm the only person on the staff that can be there - the guy that was supposed to go, his wife went into the hospital. So the boss asked me if I could take over. I've got to be up there at ten, and I don't know when I'll get home . . . Sunday, how about Sunday? I'll take you to brunch?"

"Okay," I ceded. I wondered if my uneasiness could be heard through the cell towers between us.

Her lights came on Thursday night after midnight. Friday, they didn't come on at all. 


At Carrows, just around the corner from the apartments, Audrey had french toast, eggs, bacon and coffee in front of her. She savored the food, as if she hadn't eaten in a week. "It's been so hard this week, work's been an absolute bitch. They're thinking about bringing in a new system in late October, that's what the meetings were all about, just in our region, and it's going to screw up our Holiday season, I know it! That's the most important time of the year in retail, what are they thinking! And two people on the staff quit last week, just when they needed them most, so now it's all my responsibility. I didn't know what to do at the opening yesterday, and the assistant managers thought I had all the answers and I didn't know shit. It was a terrible day, I didn't get out of there till after ten, didn't get home until almost one. I just fell into bed!"

"How about your friend?"

"Friend?" she was confused. "What friend?"

"The one from college, who was in San Francisco."

"Oh! I must be getting senile, I forgot all about it." Something rang a little untruthful in my head. "Oh it was fine, she and I had dinner near her hotel. Talked for hours."

"I didn't see you come home that night," I alluded.

"Oh, my boss was a dear. When I told him I was going up to San Francisco, he told me just to head up to Sacramento and get a motel, it wasn't worth driving all the way down here and back again in the morning."

It was a good story, and it wasn't that I didn't trust Audrey - not that there was anything to trust, or not trust. It wasn't like we were anything more than friends, was it? If she wanted to see another guy, I had no reason to gripe. I just wish she'd just come out and tell me, though, she didn't have to hide it. I decided to take a stab in the dark. "Heard from Don lately?"

"Oh, that bastard! Yes, he called me up this week, wanted to see if we could get together. I told him to go to hell." I wondered if this was the unvarnished truth, or . . . 

I changed the subject. "Have you seen the pictures up on Voyeurweb?"

"No, I haven't had time. How are they doing?"

"The one of you is leading the pack, with a 4.89 rating. We might win this thing!"

"What about the ones of you?"

"Not so well, 4.13. Of course, none of them show anything of you but the hands, so it's to be expected, I think." She smiled.

We finished our breakfast, on the walk back I asked, "What do you want to do today? Maybe we could drive over to the beach, take some photos?"

"That would be nice, but I'm bushed. I think I'll just hang out, lay around the pool."

"Mind if I hang with you?"

"If you want to," she agreed, "you don't have to if you've got something better to do." She seemed less than enthusiastic, I thought. As promised, the afternoon was unexciting. She wore a one-piece suit that showed very little, a few guys checked her out, but it was only pro forma, she wasn't that much of a standout that day. We swam in the main pool, read on the lounge chairs. A volleyball game started up in the shallow end, we joined in, but Audrey simply wasn't her usual, sparkling self. 

When the shadows started dipping into the pool area, we headed back to our apartments. "Dinner?" I suggested.

"Okay, fine. Why don't we order Chinese in, watch something on Netflix? Come over in a couple of hours, I want to take a nap."

I waited in my apartment, watched some TV, I noticed she kept her drapes drawn. About seven, I got some Lo Mein and Wonton soup from a local restaurant, brought it up to her place. It took her a couple of minutes to answer the door, she was obviously still sleeping. We ate on the patio, and I showed her some comments to our latest contribution on Voyeurweb:

'this one goes on my favorites list. Thanks again girl, you're awesome!'

'That is definitely a hot piece of ass you've got there!'

'my goodness you are hot please show more'

'mmmmmmmm i like.....'

'love those tits.'

Normally, these turned her on, she would discuss the remarks, enjoy them, but tonight they were dismissed. Her lack of reaction indicated to me that any hope of a photo shoot this evening was doomed. We headed for the couch, put a movie on, historical romance, and after awhile she scooted over, put her back to me. I rubbed her arm, her side, and she didn't protest, but when I started towards her breast, she drew it away with, "Not tonight, I'm too tired." As soon as the movie was done, she scooted me out the door with a conventional hug.

As I sat on my couch and the clock turned towards ten, I wondered if I'd be seeing a lot of Audrey in the future.


Through the week, Audrey remained unavailable to me, answering my texts with short, noncommittal replies, often arriving home late, not opening her drapes or providing any sexy fun, at least to me. Thursday night, when she got home around nine-thirty, I called, for I wasn't going to go down without a fight. "Want to do something tomorrow or Saturday?"

"Oh, I can't!" So, I thought, it's over between us. Well, it was fun while it lasted. "Ed and Julie are going away for a romantic weekend, and I promised them I'd watch Ashley and Josh. I'll be up there from Friday night until they get home Sunday afternoon." It might be true, I guessed, or it might be a ruse, so that she could have a weekend with whoever she was seeing. But then she continued. "Hey, I promised that I'd take them to the zoo on Saturday. Want to come along?"

I was surprised, but I said, "Sure!" She gave me the address for Ed and Julie's house in San Mateo, I told her I'd be there around ten.


The lions roared, the giraffes ate from trees. I know little about animals, but that didn't stop Josh from asking me about the feeding habits of sloths. For some reason, he attached himself to me, held my hand. The San Francisco zoo, close to the ocean, was as foggy as usual, and after a couple of hours we were frozen. We'd taken my car, and I asked the kids if they wanted to do something else, they said sure!

Natives of any city, for whatever reason, don't explore, and I took Audrey and the kids on a ride through the city they'd never forget. Up to Twin Peaks where the kids climbed all the way up to the top of the mountain, then down to Golden Gate park to see the buffalo, around the cliffs of Lincoln Park and the Presidio. Ashley saw Baker Beach and wanted to go down and Audrey was ready to say 'let's go,' but I didn't think everyone would be cool with a nude, gay beach, so I made some kind of an excuse. We rode up to the top of Russian Hills, and the kids squealed as we plummeted down the curves of Lombard street - we did it three times. The kids were hungry, we got them hot dogs, then we walked around the Fisherman's Wharf area, they got excited by Ripley's Believe-It-Or-Not so we let them go through. By this time, it was dark, the kids were drained, and we headed back down the Peninsula. While they were getting ready for bed, Audrey and I chatted in the living room.

"You're really good with kids."

"I just try to figure out what they like, and let them do it. If I ever have children of my own, they'll be totally spoiled."

"Ed and Julie are coming back tomorrow afternoon, I'll be back at San Jose sixish. You want to get together tomorrow night?"

"I'd like that," I allowed. "I'd really, really like that."

As I left, Audrey gave me a kiss, not much more than a peck, but very warm.


I could hear the sounds of the Bayshore Freeway on the cell phone. "Let me take you to dinner," she suggested. An hour later, we were at Henry's Hi Life in Santa Clara, waiting for a table and their superb barbecue chicken and baby back ribs. "I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."

"You've been working hard," I agreed.

"Yeah, but that's no reason to ignore you."

"Has anything else been going on?"

"Like what?" She seemed confused.

"Another guy? Don?" It was stupid, if she took offense I didn't know what she would do, but something in me had to know the truth.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. Oh, I'm so sorry you got that impression."

"Just work then," I challenged.

"Yes, a lot of it. It's gonna go on for quite a while, too."

"How about the night you went to San Francisco, then to Sacramento. Did you meet a guy?"

A chagrined demeanor flowed over her. "I've got a lousy poker face, don't I? Yes, it wasn't a girlfriend, it was my ex-husband. He was in town for a convention, and I had dinner with him. We talked about old-times." I just waited, beer in hand, for her to continue, and, knowing Audrey, once she got going, she just kept on going. "After dinner, we walked around, stopped into a bar. He's married again, you know, but that didn't stop him from trying to score. He invited me up to his room, the last time he was around I went up with him and fooled around, and I think he figured I'd be easy. I would have been too, I can't lie, I thought about going up, but then, well, I thought about you, and how much I like you, and I thought maybe it would hurt you, so I didn't do anything." 

She paused, took a long sip of beer, gave me a doleful look. "Perve, I think I'm beginning to get close to you. Maybe too close, I don't know. That's another reason I took time off, I'm a little worried about where this is going between us. Aren't you?"

"Worried? No. I like you a lot, not just because you're as sexy as an iPad, but because you're so interesting. You never want to just sit around, something's always happening with you. You're the high point of my day when I'm around you."

"You could wind up getting hurt, you know. I've not been the one to keep guys around for a long time."

"It's a chance I'm willing to take. If it doesn't work out, well, you can't say you didn't warn me. But who knows, why don't we just see where we're going, okay? No worries."

She smiled, "Okay, perve, whatever you say." And we got the nod that our food was ready.

As we were pulling back into the parking lot at home, she teased, "The boys on Voyeurweb haven't seen much lately. You think they're getting antsy?"

I smiled, I knew something good was coming. "Yeah, they want something new. You ready to give them that?"

"Sure! Remember that series we did with me masturbating? That was a big hit. Maybe we should do something like that? Perve, get your camera, come to my place."

It didn't take me long, only two or three minutes, but by the time I got up there, Audrey was already out of her street clothes, just the sexiest bra and panties I'd ever seen, and she was brushing her hair, fixing her makeup. When she was ready, she waited for my direction. I took some pictures of her walking around the apartment as if she was wondering what to do with herself, then into the bedroom where she sat on the bed and opened up her table drawer. I knew she kept her toys in there, but this time she let me look inside, photograph the sheer number and variety of sexual aids. "Which one should I use?" she asked. "How about the big brown one?" I suggested. "Okay," and I photographed her taking it out of the drawer, fondling it. She rubbed it against her bra, then took it off and rubbed her breasts with the plastic. "I've never had a black guy," she admitted, placing the dildo on top of her panties, pulling the mesh aside so I got a great shot of the plaything and her rosy lips. "Do you want one?" I asked, between shots. She pulled the thong off, and answered, "No, not really. But it's fun to fantasize about it." The vibrator was huge, nearly a foot long and as big around as my wrist. While I was snapping off a dozen pictures, she toyed with her hole, putting the faux staff just inside it, exposing the clitoris with a finger. I got closeups of the area, then drew back to display her entire body, at rest on the bed. She never pushed the thing inside her, just used it to knead the erotic region. I got close to her again, and she put the toy aside. Once again, I had a completely unobstructed view of her lips, the fissure. 

She surprised me. "Does it look all right? Would it be better if the skin was folded a little differently?"

"Maybe a little. Pull it to the side," I suggested.

"Why don't you do it for me?" she pleaded. I looked at her face, deep into her eyes, and it was clear that she was aware of just what she was asking. For the first time I touched that area, feeling it's moisture, the smoothness of the hairless skin, the surprising stiffness of the clit. She leaned back, spread her legs even further, and begged, "Pleasure me." The camera was now forgotten, I plunged a finger inside, she rewarded me with a gasp. I stroked the silky sides of the burrow, pressed against the spongy roof, and drew breath from deep inside her lungs. She raised the pelvis, letting me have further access to the pleasure spot, and I was bold enough to ask, "Would you mind if I went down on you?" "Yes, please." And my mouth was at the entrance, tasting the honey, licking the dew. Her gasps became arduous, and when I put the most sensitive blot between my lips, irritated it with the rough edge of a tooth, she gave a lofty shriek. She let me keep her there for just a short period, but I could sense the acuteness of her passion. 

She grabbed my wrist, pulled me until I was lying beside her, and undressed me. She was quick about it, and before a moment had passed I was clothed only in my longing for this woman. She'd let me have one wish that evening, perhaps I could stretch it to two? "Let me make love to you," I begged. "Not yet," she withheld, "but maybe I can give you something almost as good." She bent down, and I sensed my staff being surrounded by the warmth of her lips, the wetness of her mouth. She bobbed up and down, her motions clearly giving indication to her willingness, and I allowed myself to spend against the back of her throat. She stayed with me, drawing every drop from me, made sure I was satisfied. When my spasms had stopped, when she felt the first abating, she raised, spit the secretion into a tissue, and then laid beside me, with me.

We allowed our hands roam where they would, cooling and soothing each other. We kissed, deeply, as lovers do, and I asked, "Will you ever let me go all the way?"

"Maybe. Someday. I hope . . . Please don't be mad at me, I'm just very, very gun shy about this for some reason. I want you to wait for me! Will you?"

"I will," I promised, "as long as it takes, I'll wait."

We cuddled together, naked, and with the continuing stimulation I found that my rod was resurrecting itself a half-hour later. She felt the intrusion, and asked, "Do we have enough photos?"

"I've can make a contribution of what we have, I think."

"Good. Then I'm going to ask you to leave. If you stay, I might do something I'd be sorry about tomorrow. You know you're a pervert, don't you?"

She escorted me to the door after I'd dressed, kissed me again, keenly, and shoved me out into the cold air. When I got to the other side, her drapes were open, I could see the nakedness of my girlfriend.


Months passed, joyfully. Audrey and I traveled the Bay Area, visiting the scenery and activities. We went to Six Flags, I photographed her in a short dress on the scrambler, the skirt flowing up as she went around and around, her privates displayed for the camera. If the teenaged attendant and other passerbys caught a glimpse, they didn't object. We snuck into a garden in a shopping mall at sunrise on a Saturday, she displayed every inch of her body for the film, her admirers on Voyeurweb applauded. She became bolder, walking the pavement of our complex naked and soaking in the hot tub in the wee hours of the morning while I snapped away; no one in the compound objected. For an erotic Halloween extravaganza in The City, she had her body painted as if she were wearing a negligee and stockings, although she was in reality nude, and with my encouragement allowed herself to be pleasantly groped by other merrymakers of both sexes, all the while I was capturing the erotic memories.

Our submissions became something the community anticipated, and from the comments it seemed Audrey was the focus of a fan group. The submission we took for the well-oiled contest took second place, behind only an Amazon on a European beach, earning us five hundred dollars.

I became a fixture with her family, often eating dinner at her parents, celebrating birthdays. Josh called me a couple of times a week, relying on me to help him, as an uncle or older brother perhaps, to navigate the shoals of growing up. I felt an honored guest at Thanksgiving dinner.

In the privacy of Audrey's apartment we often laid with each other, bringing ourselves to completion. I learned what she desired, how to satisfy her, and she would do anything for me, to me, save one detail, which over time became somehow less important to me. It wasn't that I didn't want to make love to her, I never stopped desiring that, but I learned that excessive begging was never going to change her mind, and so I put the desire aside, and was content with what she was able to give me. We never spent the night together, she was worried that if we slept together, and woke in the middle of the night, that she might be unable to control herself.


Two weeks remained until Christmas, and Audrey phoned me while I was at work. "Perve, do you have plans for the weekend?"

"Yes, I'm spending it with you, I hope."

"There's a nice hotel in Carmel, the Candlelight Inn. I was wondering if you'd like to go down there Friday night, stay through Sunday?"

"Of course. It sounds romantic."

"I can promise that," she promised.


Carmel By The Sea has been referred to as Disneyland for Adults. We left San Jose just after lunch, were on the Monterey Peninsula in the midafternoon. We found the hotel, and I discovered that she'd booked a deluxe room, a wood-burning fireplace hulking over the King bed, an oversized Jacuzzi in the bathing room. I immediately began to calculate angles and critiqued the lighting. Audrey let me photograph her settling into the room, but when we left the hotel she forced me to leave the camera behind. We walked to admire the broad whiteness of the beach, sitting on the slope. For two hours, we shopped, visiting boutiques and art galleries, then it was back to the hotel to change for dinner. She was as beautiful that night as she had ever been before, or since, wearing a long alpine blue cocktail dress with the throat bare to the cleft of her breasts, a crystal heart that hung from her neck by an ebony ribbon, a midnight velvet frock to shield her from the brisk zephyr. As we walked the streets, she sported a gleeful, playful countenance.

We scored a reservation at Anton & Michel, ordered châteaubriand, and as we sipped the last half glass of our Cabernet Sauvignon, she seemed suddenly unquiet, apprehensive. "What would you like me to get you for a Christmas present?" she asked. "A new lens, or maybe a new camera?"

"Just you," I replied, "just you."

The air was biting coldly at us as we walked the three blocks to the hotel, and in the room she begged me to start a fire. Five minutes later I had a blaze sizzling. I turned, and found she'd acquired a new negligee, blood red and ethereal, with a liliputian thong that hid next to nothing. "Should I get the camera?" I suggested. "No, you can take all the pictures you want tomorrow." On the rug in front of the fire we nuzzled each other, taking our time, and it was half an hour until we were both exposed, opened to touches and strokes. In her most intimate spot Audrey was utterly damp, her juices flowing, and I massaged the area deeply until with much gusto, she came. Then it was my turn, and she maneuvered me until my tool was in her mouth. She never failed to excite me, and I prepared myself for explosion, but before I was fulfilled she raised her head, and with a few motions of her hand I suddenly found my rod encased in plastic. Posturing herself on top of me, we conclusively completed our love for one another. 


We continued to take photographs, for our pleasure and for that of Audrey's disciples. In January, we found that one of our contributions had won first place for the month of December, and with the prize of $1,400, we booked a trip to Syracuse; Audrey finally understands what Cold really is, how a trip of only a mile in a car can be hazardous during a blizzard, and what fun riding a sled or making a snowman can be. My family fell in love with her as deeply as I already had.

Even before my lease ran out, I moved into Audrey's apartment, and we discovered that living together was easy, and she agreed that it was wonderful having a roommate again. When we were alone together in the privacy of our aerie, playing gin or watching television, we were as often as not clothed in the altogether.

Audrey continues to dress provocatively in public, and I hope she always will. I enjoy the smiles she brings to the faces of other men, and if they dream that they might become intimate with her, I don't disapprove, because I know that as long as I'm with her, I'll be the only person to explore all of her charms.

Oh, yes, she still calls me 'Perve.'