Indulge (Lipstick) by Storm & Dames Jamise & Thomas Brenda L & Hunt Lajill

Author:Storm & Dames, Jamise & Thomas, Brenda L & Hunt, Lajill [Dames, Jamise]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Urban Lifestyle Press
Published: 2010-11-24T16:00:00+00:00

The Watcher

by Brenda L. Thomas

Prologue March

W ith slight trepidation, I purposely enter the ladies room on the west side of the lobby. I look behind me, to my left, right, then slip inside; my curiosity at seeing her was swelling inside of me. With my back pressed against the door, I stand so if someone tries to enter they’ll think it’s locked.

I hear her pull the seat cover from its holder to line the seat. Her butt cheeks crush the paper as she sits, and she lets out a breath of air. I listen to the stream of pee release itself from her. Swiftly she yanks the toilet paper from its roll, and I imagine her hand wiping front to back, and it makes me hard. I’m so amazed by my imagination. I close my eyes, and in that split second, she emerges from the stall. For a moment she glances at me, but doesn’t appear to be startled. She proceeds to wash her hands, all the while sizing me up to see if I’m a threat.

I observe her while she stands in the mirror adjusting her clothes. First it’s her bra, making sure her breasts are set inside right. Looking back at me through the reflection in the mirror, she asks, “Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to lend a hand?”

I walk over to her and ask, “What do you need me to do?” “My pants are a little too tight, so I need you to button them for me. Can you do that?” she asked. I use both hands to button then zip up the front of her jeans, while she pretends she needs to hold in a stomach that doesn’t exist. Accidentally my hand brushes her skin, which has the slightest bit of hair across it. My nostrils strain to smell her up close, between her legs, where the day’s scent lingers. Realizing my hard dick is noticeable, I back up to leave.

“You came in to see something, so why not stay?” she asked. I want to give her an excuse as to why I’m in here. But watching women, especially when they’re unaware, makes me retreat to the young boy I’d been in Catholic school, obsessed with what the nuns wore under their Habits.

One day I lucked up and put my eye through the keyhole, where I witnessed Sister Magda in the nude, her body wet from the shower, touching herself in ways I’d never seen. That curiosity about what women did behind closed doors has stayed with me, even at the age of forty-two.

I want to chose my words carefully and not frighten her. “Can I watch the next time you need to go?” I asked.

“You have a number?” she asked.

“267-624-8615,” I answered, with the chance that she’d remember.

Chapter 1 Brokering the Deal

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