Section 613 - Health; Hygiene

Section 613.9 - Hygiene of Offspring; Heredity

Section 613.96…

Ah, here’s the section I want.

The Joy of Sex

Not today.

The Guide to Getting It On!

Cute book, but no.

Hot Sex: How to Do It

I might need to come back to this one.

For Yourself: The Fulfillment of Female Sexuality

Bingo.

I look to my right, then left, making sure I’m alone in this section of the library before sliding the book out. Thumbing through the pages, I see chapters on female anatomy, how to communicate to your partner, and sexual shaming before landing on one about experiences and fantasies. I’m hoping to gain some insight into my sudden stumble into voyeurism. I’ve never been a peeper before, but here lately, it’s all I can think about.

I’m not really sure I’m a true voyeur, to be honest. It’s not just sex I like to watch. It’s him. I like—no, love—watching him do anything. He just seems to have a lot of sex, and it looks so damn good, I can’t stop myself. I don’t want to stop.

My own sexual experiences don’t come close to comparing to what he does to the women he brings to his apartment. Just thinking about what I’ve missed out on makes me feel sad and a little angry. No, not a little angry. I’m actually pissed. Why haven’t I been fucked like that? Do I blame the losers I grew up with who probably don’t know the difference between a pussy and a hole in the ground? Or do I blame myself? With my plain brown hair and simple clothes, I know I’m not attractive to most men. Not in the way that’ll get me fucked like that, at least.

Sighing, I place the book on the bottom of my cart, hiding it so I can check it out to myself when nobody's looking.

“Look who I found sneaking in the naughty section!” Mia teases me in a sing-song voice, and my cheeks flame in embarrassment.

“I’m not sneaking, Mia. I’m just shelving books.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” she murmurs while studying the titles on the shelf in front of me. “Oh! You should read this one.” Her index finger pulls out Sex for One: The Joy of Self Loving, and she hands it to me. “It has some great masturbation tips, and when you finally start dating again, you should read this one.” She points to Down and Dirty Sex Secrets: The New and Naughty Guide to Being Great in Bed.

I let out a frustrated breath and roll my eyes. “I’m not here for me. I was just doing my job, so butt out of my sex life.”

“Harper, it’s no big deal. It’s smart to do your research. I just hope one day soon, you can put all your knowledge into practice. That reminds me. Layla and I know a guy who would be perfect for you. Want to meet him?”

Shit. Not another blind date. The idea of meeting a stranger and being forced to make conversation while eating is, quite possibly, my version of hell on Earth.

“I don’t think so, Mia.”

“Oh, come on! You are a young, beautiful woman, and you need to start living. Have some fun for a change. I’m not asking you to marry the guy!”

She’s right. I know she’s right, but it’s so hard to break out of my shell, my routine. I’d never admit it, but the main reason I don’t want to go on this date is because I don’t want to risk missing him in his apartment.

Fuck, I need to get a life.

Mia must sense the resolve in my posture because she uses the opportunity to tell me more about the guy she has in mind for me.

“His name is Wyatt, and he’s tall, dark, and handsome. He has a great job and is a really nice guy. He mentioned being free Saturday evening, but I know Saturdays are when you usually visit Sadie. Is there another day that works for you?”

Sadie. After our disastrous visit last week, I’m not so sure I want to see her again, especially not this week. This date is sounding better and better, I think.

I stay quiet for a moment longer, weighing my options. I should accept, get out there and try to enjoy life, but it’s so hard to take that first step. Making a deal with myself, I agree to meet this Wyatt guy, as long as I can be home in time to see my favorite window show.

“Okay. I’ll meet your friend on Saturday, if it’s a group thing. I don’t want the pressure of a blind date right now.”

Obviously forgetting where we are, she lets out a squeal and starts clapping until we hear a few people shush us.

We both laugh quietly, turning our backs to the few people sitting at nearby tables.

“What about Sadie?” she whispers.

“I’m not going this week,” I declare, ignoring the immediate guilt I feel settling in my gut.

§

Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. Why did I agree to this date with Wyatt? My stomach is in knots, and I can’t stop sweating. These are not good traits for a first date or any date, for that matter.

I grab a piece of paper off my bed and fan myself with it as I pace the floor of my apartment.

I can’t do this. I’ll just call Mia and tell her I’m sick. It wouldn’t be that much of a lie, really. I bet it’d only take one quick poke of my finger down my throat to make me throw up. Mia would never know the truth.

My phone starts ringing, and my shoulders sag. It can only be one of two people on the other line. It doesn’t matter which one of my friends it is. Their messages will be identical.

Not bothering to look at the number flashing on my screen, I answer. “Yes?”

“Don’t even think about backing out, Harper.”

I sigh before an embarrassing whine leaves my mouth. “But, Layla…”

“No. I’m not letting you pass up this opportunity.” Her tone is stern at first but quickly changes to the comforting lull I’ve relied on since junior high. “I worry about you, Harper. You’re my oldest and dearest friend, and I want you to be happy. Life is passing you by and I’d be a horrible friend if I let you lock yourself away in your apartment like a recluse. Please come out with us.” The concern and sincerity in Layla’s voice brings tears to my eyes. Even though she’s my best friend, she sometimes mothers me, and I’m okay with that. My own mother has never worried about me, so in a weird way, it feels nice to know Layla does.

“Fine. I’ll go, but when I’m ready to leave, you have to promise to just let me go.” I’d rather her think my social anxiety got the better of me instead of the fact I wanted to get home and use my binoculars.

An hour later, I’m walking into the park where I’m meeting the four of them and Wyatt, for a concert. The weather is perfect. The heat from the day is cooled by the breeze blowing, making me glad I brought a light sweater to wear over my flowy sundress.

Once I promised Layla I’d really show up this afternoon, I was able to focus on the positives of this date. Getting some fresh air, listening to live music, and possibly making a new friend. All those things make me happy. Somewhere in the process of getting ready, I felt the dread turn to excitement. The shot of tequila I took before leaving my apartment might be helping with my mood, too. I always keep a bottle of Cuervo in my freezer for times like this, and it’s never let me down.

I hear my name being called and turn to see the girls waving at me. As I walk in their direction, my eyes land on who I assume is Wyatt, and holy shit, he’s good-looking. He’s not what I’m normally attracted to—he’s very boy-next-door with his neatly combed black hair and wide, sparkling white smile—but there’s no arguing that the man is fine. He stands as I approach the large blanket spread out for our group and sticks his hand out to me.

“You must be Harper. I’m Wyatt. It’s nice to meet you.” His smile is genuine, and his teeth are really white, and his hands are soft, like he’s never done manual labor in his life.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you, too.”

Quickly, I greet everyone else in our party, and we all sit down. As the music starts, I gladly accept the glass of wine Wyatt offers me. The evening is lovely and I find myself relaxing into it and enjoying myself more than I thought I would.

Wyatt really seems to be a good guy. He’s a banker who enjoys craft beer, and he always makes time for volunteer work. He’s also very polite, very polished, and very boring. I know there are tons of women who are looking for someone just like Wyatt...but I’m not one of them.

When the concert is over, he offers to share a taxi with me and escort me home. I accept because I don’t want to disappoint Layla and Mia, but if he thinks I’m inviting him up to my apartment, he’s very mistaken.

We’re a block away from Mr. Chan’s restaurant when I spot him. Not Wyatt. Him. The man I love to watch. I do a double take, but I know it’s him. I’d recognize that jawline and hair anywhere. He’s just walked into a pharmacy, and I suddenly have an intense need to buy some aspirin. Or hair dye. Or something. Anything, as long as it’s in that store with him.

Wyatt is in the middle of a story about the time he helped build bikes for underprivileged kids for Christmas when I yell to the driver, “Stop! I need to get out here, please!”

The taxi screeches to a stop, and Wyatt’s kind eyes become confused as he watches me fumble in my purse for some cash. “Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No, I just remembered something I need to do, and I need to get out here. I’m sorry to bail like this, but it’s very important.” I hand him money for my portion of the fare, but he gently pushes my hand away.

“Don’t worry about it. Maybe we can get together another time?”

I can’t believe I haven’t scared him off yet. Between my fidgeting all day and awkward conversation skills and now this, I was sure he’d be running for the hills.

“Um, sure, maybe. I’ll get your number from Mia, okay?” I quickly get out of the taxi and wave at Wyatt through the window as it drives off.

As I speed walk into the pharmacy, I realize I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Do I try to strike up a conversation with him, or do I just follow him around the store like the psycho I’m becoming?

What is wrong with me?

I’ve been affected by this man, and he doesn’t even know I exist. Even if he did, he wouldn’t be interested in me. He’d never give me the time of day. I’m nothing like the women he fucks, which is why I have such a close, personal relationship with my binoculars now.

He’s the tallest person in the pharmacy, so it’s easy to keep an eye on him. His dark hair is messy, and I want to grab onto it and force his head between my legs, making it even messier. I watch as he purchases a large box of condoms, and my stomach flutters, wishing I was the one he opened the box for later.

Speaking of later, I need to get to my apartment. I don’t want to miss a second of whatever he’s about to do. I step right behind him as he heads for the door. This is the closest I’ve allowed myself to get to him, and I have to fight the urge to reach out and touch him. Instead, I take a chance and lean my face close to his back, inhaling his manly scent. He stops once he’s out of the door, and I almost bump into him. As embarrassing as that could’ve been, I might have to let that happen the next time I’m this close to him. It’ll probably be the only chance I get for any kind of physical contact with this beautiful man.

He looks left before turning right and walking in the opposite direction of his apartment building. I’m confused by this, so of course, I continue to follow him. We walk for a couple of blocks until he slows and steps into a restaurant. Looking through the window, I watch as a gorgeous lady with black hair falling past her ass greets him at the bar. She stretches up on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek.

Of course, he’s on a date. Duh.

At least I have a little more time to get home and settled before the show begins.

I cross the street and head to my building. I’ve been walking along when a storefront catches my eye. Delicate lace and satin beckon to me, and without thinking, I enter the lingerie store. Everything on display looks rich and glamorous, and I clasp my hands together to keep myself from touching anything.

I bet the women he fucks wear underwear like this, and I bet it doesn’t even faze them when he rips them off their bodies, never to be worn again. I can’t help but wonder what that must feel like. To wear fancy fabrics only to be destroyed by his hands.

I want that.

Before I can stop myself, I pick up a price tag attached to a pair of panties. Surely panties don’t cost that much, right? The deep red satin caresses my skin, and the lace trim is just enough to make them look cute, as well as luxurious. When I see the price, I nearly swallow my tongue.

Holy shit. If panties cost that much, I don’t want to know how much a bra is.

I should put the garment down and leave, but my feet refuse to work. My hands refuse to release the panties, and my brain quickly calculates a way for me to afford them. Accepting free food from Mr. Chan more than once this week will definitely help, and it makes him happy, so it’s a win-win situation.

Pleased with my plan, I make sure I have the correct size before paying for them. The shopping bag in my hand is almost as pretty as the prize it contains, so I make sure to carry it carefully until I get to my bedroom and set it on my dresser.

I take a quick shower to freshen up, and after drying off, I slip on my new panties. The fit is perfect, and the color somehow makes my pale skin look amazing. My hands won’t stop touching the fabric, and my body starts to tingle with the tiniest bit of arousal. A deep need to know what’s going on across the way causes me to quickly turn off my bedroom light and practically leap onto the window sill.

He’s there with his date and they’re already kissing. They must’ve had some major foreplay while at dinner. My body is on fire as I watch them quickly undress. I go to remove my shirt when I realize I never put one on after my shower. I’m literally sitting here in only my fancy panties, watching these two strangers fuck.

No, that’s not creepy at all. Not that I care.

The woman bends over and holds on to the coffee table before he slams into her. There’s no easing into it. They just immediately start fucking like animals. It’s primal and needy and beautiful. He has a fist full of her long black hair in one hand, and with his other, he slaps her ass. Hard. I watch as her mouth opens wide, crying out in pain and pleasure as he grasps her hair tighter, and my hand instinctively moves inside my panties.

I rub just a little, not wanting to get off yet, but to ease some of the ache between my legs.

Surprising both me and his companion, he pulls out of her and guides her to her knees in front of him. The light from the room illuminates him in a way that makes him seem otherworldly, a figment of the imagination. If it weren’t for the fact I saw him in person only a short time ago, I would wonder if this weren’t all in my head. Using both hands, I zoom in closer to watch his face as she takes him into her mouth. When his chest muscles involuntarily twitch and his head falls to his chest, I slip a hand back inside the silk panties and press hard on my clit, making small circles. He looks like he’s trying so hard to hold back, but I wish he’d let go. He’s so beautiful when he comes.

His hands guide her, forcing her to make quick strokes with her mouth, before he pulls out again. I guess his knees were getting weak because he turns until his back is facing me and he leans against the window as she takes him in again.

The sight of his back muscles and ass pressed against the glass as he receives pleasure causes my brand-new panties to become completely ruined. I collect the wetness on my fingertips and rub even harder. He fucks her face, and I imagine it’s me in her place, but I don’t dare close my eyes. No way am I missing his orgasm, not even the ass view.

Just as my own body starts to tremble, ready to explode, he throws his head back against the window. I scream out my orgasm as he slides to the floor, her face coming into view. She looks pleased with herself as she licks at the thick white release painting her lips.

I want to watch more, but I physically can’t. I’m spent. My arms and legs are weak, and the binoculars feel like dead weight as I set them to the side and slide off the windowsill. For once, I’m thankful I live in a shoebox apartment and that my bed is only a few feet away. Crawling up to my pillow, I feel sated and I vow to buy more of these panties when my budget allows.