Find a way James!

1. Find a way James!

I waited for my neighbor to come out of the spa. I saw her go in. On a bench across the street, I sat and hoped she would see me when she came out. I bought her a day pass. It's a woman's only spa. It was the best way connect with her alone.

I used the QR code on the spa gift certificate I purchased. I simply taped it to a flowerpot on my windowsill. Printed out large and taped it. She figured it out. Zooming in across the ten-foot air gap between our houses and scanning it, pulled up a pass for use any Wednesday. Last week I saw that she had drawn a W26 on a potted plant on the sill of her window. We were on!

At half past two, she emerged from the spa.

She spotted me across the street and walked over.

I stood to greet her. "You are looking radiant," I said.

Her face was glowing pink. "Thank you for the treat. I have never been to that spa. I would certainly go back."

"I've heard good things," I said.

I handed her a brochure to the Colosseum. "I thought we might meet here next time."

"I've never been to the Roman Colosseum." She opened and looked over the brochure.

"Yes, it's cool in the catacombs when its hot outside," I said. "Few people visit when it's hot. Weekdays are particularly quiet. I give guided tours to English speakers from time to time. I thought I might give you a private tour midafternoon."

She eyeballed me which turned into a twinkle. A slight smile emerged across her face "Catacombs," she annunciated the word carefully in her cute accent.

"You will find me sitting in the sun inside," I continued.

She dipped her head as in an approving nod. "Ok. Keep an eye on your heart," she replied. She then folded the brochure and tucked it in the pocket of her handbag and turned.

I watched her walk to her car and get in and drive away.

A week later, I saw the potted plant was moved on her windowsill. It had an "F6-2" written on the pot. inside the shape of a heart. We had passed communication in the past using the flowerpot she had purchased with a heart shape painted on it. I needed to use binoculars to make it out. This discreet communication system was evolving! I deciphered this message easily. Feb the 6^th and 2pm.

This wasn't exactly Mission Impossible. But when it's your neighbor, who is married, the challenge becomes more difficult.

Petra, my neighbor, and I have been toying with each other for the past few months.

Our houses are next to each other. We don't talk. It's just show. Exhibition, voyeur stuff. It started when I once saw her topless in her room through an open window. It was an awkward moment, but apparently it turned her on. Panty and then pussy shows eventually followed, good ones!

Running into her at a café in town, recently changed things. It was her that wanted more.

She caught me aside after giving me a gratuitous "show and no tell" of her pussy up her cocktail dress during dinner under the table while eating with her husband. I wasn't that surprised when she found me near the sinks at the restrooms afterwards.

"I want you to cum on my tits. Find a way James!" That was all she said. She turned and walked back into the restaurant, back to her husband.

Unbelievable! I walked home with a hard dick the whole way.

On Friday the 6^th at 1pm I was there waiting for her at the Colosseum. It was hot. The Italian sun, which had borne down it rays on this Colosseum for roughly two thousand years now, made the stone hot to the touch. I put a newspaper down to sit on in the spectator gallery within view of the primary entrance. I brought a lunch and enjoyed a cup of cold wine taking in the scene. There would be few tourist interested to enter this solar oven at this hour today. That was the plan, anyways.

The catacombs under the Colosseum remain cool on days like this. Very comfortable to wander. Moss thrives down there. There are mosses thousands of years old, I'd guess. Comfortable green pillowy masses. I like to take off my shoes and feel the moss and cold stone on my bare feet.

The entrance kiosk has one attendant. If I am going to have a large group for a tour, I give them twenty euros up front and then five more euros for each person on the tour. They know me by "Mr. James" and are always happy to see me and never give me any trouble.

I find it fascinating that only one person guards this ancient historical site - one person, usually watching Italian teams football on a portable TV, loudly whether man or woman.

At two thousand years old, the Antifeatro Flavio in Pozulli is one of the few roman era Colosseums ever built. There are several amphitheaters that date back to roman times scattered over Italy and parts of Europe, but there are really only three Colosseums of significance, where gladiatorial battles took place for spectator sport. This is one of them. Italians call it a ruin, tucked neatly within the charming port town of Pozulli on the outskirts of Naples. We know the romans imported animals from Africa and other parts for special sport in the Colosseum. Animals, slaves, fish, goods from all over world have passed over the docks, and probably still do, to a lesser extent. Human brutality is never ending.

I saw her walk in, brochure in hand. She saw me and proceeded over to me. I stood.

"Are you to be my tour guide?" she asked. She was wearing a light peach color sun dress.

"I am. You look lovely," I replied with a smile.

"Thank you," she replied. She sat down near me. I gave her the newspaper to sit on.

"We will only be here a minute. Let me pack up my things. I have a bottle of cold wine. We'll have it in the catacombs," I informed her.

"Good. Its dreadfully hot here," she said, at this point shielding her eyes from the sun even as she wore sunglasses. She scoured the scene of the floor of the Colosseum.

She wore Prada sunglasses, black. Her whole look was right out of a magazine. Dark hair, caramel skin, beautiful shoulders, low neckline to a small diamond pendant. One would not know if she was Italian or Persian. But she did have brown eyes that to me, looked Persian. Her accent was slight. I never asked where she was from.

I quickly gathered my things, leaving no crumbs behind. One of the rules of the Colosseum is that you are not supposed to bring in any food. But nobody is walking around checking.

We proceed to a place that I had in mind.

I filled her in on the history as we walk. We both take on the roles of real tour guide and follower. She had questions, interesting ones. I answered. I've taken a deep dive into the history of the place.

The cool hits you as soon as you leave the sun. Its impressive if your skin is moist from the heat. Your skin will contract. I think that is one of things that makes southern Italy so sexy. Your skin is in a state of warming and contracting as you go about your mid-day activities in and out of the sun. In and out of stone and marble buildings that are found everywhere. It is a sensual nuance of the region.

Petra is wearing practical shoes. She has no trouble navigating the stones, which are in some places more like steppingstones than a paved floor.

"The place was made for animals and slaves. Little effort was put in to make it habitable down here. It was probably pretty nasty smelling in its day," I inform her. Today, its just the smell of stale air. Its not nice but its not unpleasant either.

She seems fascinated by the place. Its darkened but lit by channels cut regularly into the stone in various places, letting in sharp rays of sun.

Soon we get to the room I had chosen. It was obviously a stable stall. Stone walls. Big enough for several animals. A once stone feeding pedestal in the middle is nothing but a mound of rubble now covered by a thick layer of bright green moss.

She followed me in and wandered around. The room was lit by a portal opening to somewhere. Not enough to read by, but plenty of light.

I put my bag on the mound, opened it and pulled out a bottle of Falanghina that I already had opened while waiting for her. It was still cold. I presented her the label.

She smiled. "That'll do," she said.

"Good, because its all we have in this wine cellar," I joked, as I poured carefully into two tin cups.

She smiled again and moved to climb up on the mound and she perched herself there cross legged. I handed her a tin cup of wine. I tipped my cup to her in the same way I had done at the café, when she discreetly spread her legs for me. She beamed briefly with a knowing, mischievous smile, showing her teeth.

We both drank together and jointly nodded approval of the wine.

"Not bad at all James," she said.

"I'm glad you approve," I replied.

As she sat atop the mound, the light from the portal shone on her hair. Beautiful thick dark hair. She uncrossed her legs and pulled off her shoes and planted her feet in the thick moss growing on the mound.

She knew by this that I could now see up her sun dress. No panties. Pink.

I too stepped out of my shoes. The stone floor of the stable was cool and smooth on the soles of my foot. I shuffled to feel it with my toes.

Seeing me shuffle, she shuffled too in the moss under her feet. She made a face. She liked it.

She leaned back on the mound onto her arms. She looked me in the eye. A twinkle of a smile. And then she spread her legs slightly.

The mound was about three feet high. I stepped forward and touched her dress hem with my right thumb and pushed it higher. Up over her thigh.

She didn't budge. Didn't change her expression.

"I'll drink to that," I said, using my chin to point at her pussy.

"Bon Appetite safe cracker. Crack my safe!" she said. She said it in Italian. Perfect Italian.

I took a long sip of my wine, more like a gulp. I looked her in the eye. Her jaw was set. Her lower lip quivered a little bit. She held my gaze though.

I put my tin cup off to the side. I thought about it for moment. I had never mentioned to her that I was a professional safe cracker. How did she know that? I decided to let it go for time being, given the situation.

I dove in on her pussy like a dog, pressing her dress back all the way with both thumbs now.

She spread more for me, fully.

I impaled my tongue in her. Like a roman spear, deep.

She arched up pressing her crotch in my face, meeting my vigor.

Perfect. Delicious pussy, wet I noticed, inhaling her deeply.

I lapped her up there on the green mound of moss. Like two animals we were.

I stepped out of my shorts. Quickly.

She remained laying back, legs spread, pussy ready, looking at me. She had a face on that I've seen before, across the window gap, between our two houses. A face of wanton hunger. She flicked her head, unconsciously. This was the first time that we actually touched, since we shook hands briefly at a neighborhood party.

My cock is at full mast. She is looking at it.

"You can't fuck me," she said. It sounded more like a pleading, demand.

"Very well," I respond. "But, ill have some more of this."

I dove for her pussy again.

I'm in love with her pussy.

I use my fingers. Two. And she responds. Favorably.

Soon, she cums. She cums and I take her in my mouth.

I feel myself about to cum. I am not even touching my dick.

I step up onto the mound more where she is and I step over her, putting my cock in her face.

She takes my cock into her mouth in one motion.

She isn't shy about it.

Doesn't look up.

She takes me.

We are in a stone room. I hear better our noise. I hear her grunt and audible whimper and suck on my dick. I hear myself grunt, bounce off the wall outside of the stable.

I look around and inhale deeply the ancient air lingering in the stable.

I fuck her face.

I pull out.

I nod with my chin for her to pull off the dress.

She quickly pulls off the shoulders, exposing her tits.

I should call them breasts; breasts sounds so much more than appropriate than tits. Beautiful breasts, or tits, or knockers or whatever level of appropriateness, resides within at the moment, these perfect breasts are what started this.

She goes back to sucking my dick. Me fucking her face.

We were both on a mission.

She wasn't on for 30 seconds more when I felt my balls churn with a fist jolt.

I let go.

I pull from her mouth, and standing over her, I exploded from the bottom of my balls. I hit her chin with straight rope of cum.

I grabbed my cock and pumped the rest of my load at her breasts. There is plenty. Each nipple and the center of her chest is awash. The pendant is swimming in cum.

And I can feel my balls are empty. I can feel they have been pumped out.

She shudders and closes her eyes. She licks at a bit of cum around her lower lip.

Her face was contorted, then she opens her eyes, looks at mine, and exhales deeply.

She laid back there for a minute and stared up at me.

It was over. I stepped back.

I grabbed something and gave it to her to clean herself up.

She commenced.

I poured us each another half a cup of wine.

She stepped down off the mound and took the cup.

The two of us stood there, bare feet on the stone floor, half naked. I observed her beautiful breasts there one last time before she slipped the thin dress straps back over her elegant shoulders, back into place. Back into tourist role.

We still hadn't kissed.

She didn't offer and I didn't move to.

She took a sip. Lifted her cup. "Not bad James," she toasted to the air.

Then I nailed her with a kiss on her lips, which she took hungrily. She licked me then with her tongue. My cheek. I held her for a second and we then parted. It was a good kiss. A very good kiss.

We picked up our things, me my bag, her the Colosseum brochure.

We proceeded out, out through the maze of catacombs, to the entrance, back into the sharp sunlight.

"How did you know I was a safe cracker?" I asked.

"You have your skills, I have mine," she replied, not looking at me, as she continued to walk.

It was clear she was not going to get into how she knew. She would have had to have done some careful looking to find me, but it was not really impossible either.

I stopped and pointed to the entrance. "Would you like to leave alone?" I asked.

"No, please walk me out," she replied. "I have a job for you."

"A job?" I replied.

"I need to have a look at something. Its in a safe. I trust you work in discreet ways," she continued.

"You can trust that I don't work for pussy," I said in Italian.

"How about one million dollars... and some pussy?" she quickly retorted, in Italian, and clearly unphased by my vulgarity. She stopped now and turned and looked at me.

"I'm listening." She knows my going rate, which is interesting.

"I need to get into a safe to take a look at a will. It's a delicate matter."

"Can you get me to the safe, in and out of its location with no security issues for me to have deal with?" I asked.

"Yes. I will accompany you. I don't want anything to go missing. It is important to me that nobody knows that I know nor anyone else knows what is in that will."

"And the payment? I say, "A million dollars?"

"That's the tricky part. I don't have a million dollars right now."

"I'm sorry? As you have found me, you must know that a million is my rate."

"Yes.. There is a lot at stake here for me," she continues. "Possibly my life and definitely my fortune and future. I need this information, James. I will fuck you. You will film us fucking. You will keep the recording. A recording like that would assure me a divorce. I would lose everything." She was cool about this, but her emotions now rising to a plea. A serious plea. She had clearly thought about this offer.

"Sounds dangerous," I reply.

"When the balance of the payment is made, the recording is given to me. No copies!" Her face is serious. There is more behind this woman. She is suddenly a fem fatal, moving through space, desperately. She tracked me down.

"When will the payment be made?" I ask.

"I'll need two years.. when the will is executed," she says.

You seem like a capable woman Petra. I would need half up front and it's a deal. And, of course the filming session for escrow.

"So, $500,000 US dollars and it's a deal. Do we have a deal, James, pussy for escrow?"

I thought about it. We continued walking quietly now.

At the entrance, we concluded, like guide and tourist in front of the attendant at the kiosk.

"There is one last requirement," I say. We use my bank to execute the transaction.

"I'm agreeable to that. It will take me a week or so," she responds.

"Let me know when you have the funds. At that point, I will fill you in on the wire transfer procedures to send the funds to an escrow bank in Switzerland. All very discreet. When the safe is open, we escrow immediately, the deal done, I depart. If I can't crack the safe, no payment. No exceptions. That's my contract."

She finished my words, "no exceptions! And no copies. The original video is returned to me"

"No copies. You will be given the original or it will be destroyed. Your choice," I said. I looked her right in the eyes. I switched to Italian. "I don't need a video. I will never forget today."

"Thank you for the tour. Bona Sera, Graci Mille James," she responded. She did a perfect Italian lean in kiss on both cheeks. I met her etiquette, equally polite. She looked me one last time in the eye and turned and walked off.

I didn't watch her walk away. I turned and slid five euros to the attendant under the grating.

"Bona Sera. Graci Mille Mr. James," the female attendant said, smiling.

"Bona Sera," I returned.

End.