Cassie's Story

Like every night now, he was there... watching. Like every night now, his eyes were on her... watching. But now it was more comforting than scary, the first weeks she had considered calling the police but something always held her back, as if she was waiting also. Waiting to find out why he was here maybe.

It had been a few weeks now... 'No', she thought. It had been maybe two months since she first saw him there, sitting in the all-night coffee shop across from her corner. The first night had been eerie, surreal, like some movie. She had been angry about it and halfway through the night had stormed over and asked him what kind of fucking pervert was he. She didn't normally swear - not unless it was requested but when she got angry (and scared), she lost a little control.

He had said very little, she couldn't even remember what it was. He smiled... a genuine smile and asked her for coffee. "I don't do coffee, I do cocks..." she knew she was being aggressive, overly so but she was angry (and afraid). There was something about this guy that was different but she wasn't sure different was good. Not in her line of work...

He had chuckled at her openness, though she suspected she wasn't fooling anyone. This wasn't really her line of work but it paid well and she needed a lot of money fairly quickly. She already worked a "normal" job that kept her busy but it wasn't bringing in the money she needed fast enough. This wasn't too bad - sometimes she even found someone she enjoyed. And she didn't mind being watched - god, how many asked her for that (and videos but she always declined that "opportunity") - but being watched then was always on her terms. It wasn't like this...

He had been there the next night, and then the following week. Always the same table, sometimes he did stuff on his laptop (she would have said something perverted but again she didn't think that was right - and discovered later it wasn't) or reading. Though whatever he was doing, she knew his eyes were really only taking in one thing. Her...

Finally, by the third week, she had gone back across the road. She was trying to be angry but found it difficult. He had never done anything except watch, his eyes never seem to pass judgement, just seem to take her in... her lean slender frame – Cassie was not tall but her directness always made her seem taller – dark hair spilling over her shoulders, the breeze wisping it about her face a little... her firm breasts, encased in the black tube top, perfectly matching her petite body. She knew he took those in, like every man did.

Cassie knew every aspect of her physical self. She again watched as his eyes wandered her body constantly, though they more caressed than "wandered". It was what else he knew that worried her... his eyes were penetrating, they saw way past her attractiveness.

She stood over him, hands on hips, her knee length black boots giving her a few more inches, though she knew – as she did with all men – that by standing this way, they struggled to see anything but the high hem of her black mini skirt that was almost perfectly eye level. It was another way Cassie could control the situation. As long as a man (or boy, she didn't care as long he had cash) was looking between her thighs, he wasn't going to be causing trouble – and would likely be happy to pay a little more.

Greg ignored what Cassie offered before him, instead slowly looking up, along her body to take in her blue eyes, penetrating them. Cassie's own stare demanded to know what he was doing. Again, he offered coffee and again she reminded him that she didn't do coffee but almost slipped and laughed as she found the comment suddenly quite funny. He smiled back at her but made no outward recognition that she was off balance. He offered her a seat.

"It's 250 an hour, more if you want something special...", she hoped her forwardness this time would shake him. It would put her back in charge of the situation. Make her feel safe once more. This was way beyond her comfort zone - even considering some of the people she had "met" in the past.

He reached into his jacket pocket (she thought suddenly about that jacket, and an idea started to form in her mind) and withdrew his wallet, carefully laying out five $50 notes then looked up at her, his face still passive but his green eyes twinkling, "I assume coffee does not count as 'something special'?".

Cassie felt trapped... she had not expected that response. She was sure he would have backed off and that would be the end of it. His weeks of voyeurism would disappear and her life would return to what she considered normal. His hand offered the seat opposite once again.

She sat down... guarded, on edge, unsure. Not all knowing what was to happen next...