tagExhibitionist & VoyeurRachel and Stephen Ch. 04

Rachel and Stephen Ch. 04


Hi again, everyone. Sincere apologies about taking so long to continue this. I've got 2 chapters to upload right now and I'm going to try to go ahead and finish the story within the next month or so.

Fair warning – if you couldn't figure it out from the title, this is part of a series and not the beginning. I highly recommend starting with chapter 1. This is also not a quick fuck – there is plot involved, even if not much.

Thanks for reading.


Back in the truck and on the road again, Stephen and I were both uncharacteristically quiet as we rolled along. I kept quiet because I didn't know what to say after the events of the last few days, and quite frankly I was terrified of what the conversation might lead to topic-wise. This game of sexual chicken had to end – I didn't have the confidence or comfort with the topic to ever make him back off without backing off myself. Especially considering my current state and all the tension that kept building, I was afraid that my hormones would force me in to making a move, humiliating myself and possibly ruining the friendship when Stephen was just joking.

I looked over. I really didn't know why he was staying as silent as I was. Embarrassment as well? Probably not – although, I was almost certain that he had lied to me about his earlier erection. I was pretty sure it hadn't been present when he first came in to the room... which meant he had been listening to me in the tub. He really hadn't seemed embarrassed, though, I mused. Another thought struck me: maybe he was quiet on the subject because he was afraid I would interpret it as a sign of interest, when it was just a bodily reaction to an arousing situation. That definitely seemed more likely.

I reached to turn on the radio and narrowed my eyes when I noticed that this time Stephen had a faint smirk dancing around his lips as he gazed down the road. Ugh, this brought to mind a third option. It seemed as though he might be plotting more about his "proposition," which was yet another thing I really didn't want to think about.

I finally broke the silence. "Stephen?"

"Hmm?" He said, absentmindedly, faint twist still on his lips and eyes still on the road.

"Ah, about yesterday, and your... proposition..."

Before I could awkwardly continue, he snapped out of his reverie. "Oh, right, right, we never finished talking about it!"

Um... what? He grinned at me as he kept talking. "Rach, what I was actually proposing was a bet."

My competitive streak kicked in and I looked at him in challenge. "What kind of bet?"

"Well..." he paused. "Do you mind if we just speak really plainly? Think you can manage without dying of embarrassment?"

I bristled defensively at his tone. "Yes!"

"Okay then," Stephen said, "the bet would be about, well, you learning to masturbate." He looked over, and seeing that I was still quiet and listening, continued. "I think you need to start doing it, if only so you don't drive me crazy with your deprived bitchiness, heh."

I wasn't laughing.

He went on, "I think you definitely have the drive and ability, and being moderately good with women," he smirked, "I'm pretty sure I can get you to the point where you will be so desperate that you will get past all your reservations." He glanced at me, and seeing the worried frown that I felt crinkling my brow, hurried to say "Trust me, I don't mean involving us in anything sexual. I'm not trying to seduce you, or anything."

I wasn't giving any consideration to actually doing this, but the competitive side of me is strong (there's a reason I work in the business world) and I couldn't help weighing the odds and seeing them in my favor. My reservations were strong – stronger than he probably realized, and I had a stubborn streak to boot.

"What would the stakes be?" I cleared my throat, hoping my voice didn't sound as shaky as it felt. "And what would the specifics be in terms of what qualified as losing?"

"Well, the end goal I guess would be you getting off entirely by yourself, with no outside help of any kind." That damn smile was still on his face. "So, to put it in exact terms, uhm... You and your fingers, uhm, all the way to orgasm."

I was frozen in shock from hearing him say it so plainly, and jumped like a scared deer when he suddenly reached over and cranked the air conditioner on.

"Hot in here," he said, frowning. "Anyway, stakes would be if I'm successful and you actually end up doing it, the entire trip that we're on now will be my treat. All your meals in Vegas will be on me, and I'll even finance your gambling. In fact, I'll even buy you a new outfit to wear there; I saw how upset you were with all your old clothes. But, if you can actually resist (which is highly unlikely, haha) then you are going to have to treat me to a really nice dinner, place of my choosing."

"Uhm, Stephen... Isn't that kind of the opposite of how bets work? Shouldn't I be paying if you win, instead of the other way around?"

"Well, yeah," he replied, "But this way you have some extra motivation to do what I really want. It will basically be a win win situation – you'll be happier, I'll be happier because you won't be all crazy tense all the time, you'll get a free vacation... There's really nothing to hold you back except some silly inhibitions that you need to get past."

"Ah..." I had no clue what to say, but I was getting more and more irritated by his overconfidence. "What makes you so sure it will be easy for you to win?!"

Stephen just looked at me and grinned that adorable, infuriating smile. "Just call it a gut feeling."

I snapped. "All right, bet accepted, Mr. God-Among-Women! I will be buying you dinner this weekend, and then we will never be talking about this again!"

Stephen just laughed. "Okay, Rachel, bet's on then."

I sat there staring out the window at the alpine forest racing by, feeling quite smug over what I felt was a guaranteed victory. As long as he only won with me using my fingers – well, I could still use the lovely bathtub technique from this morning, no matter how desperate I was. Mmm. I shifted in the seat, thinking about it. It had really been fantastic – and I still felt great about myself. No guilt, just release. I was definitely going to take another bath at the hotel tonight.

The next few hours flew by much more comfortably than the rest of the trip had so far. We had left around 10, and by mid-afternoon the golden light was slanting across scrubby foothills, with only a few sparse evergreens scattered among them. After waking up from a relaxing nap, I felt much better, and Stephen and I had been talking like always, mostly about work and remembered college escapades. Even as our conversation dwindled, the scenery outside held my attention, so different from the thick Oregon forest I was used to.

As we finally crossed over the border into Nevada, my stomach was growling and I was getting cranky. I had lost all patience by the time Stephen rolled into a midsize town at a little over the 35 mph speed limit, looking all over but showing no signs of stopping.

"Stephen!" I snapped, sounding meaner than I meant. "I'm hungry! Do we have to starve??"

"Oh, right!" he said, unflappably cheerful. "Actually, stopping here would be great." He pulled into a sub shop, saying cryptically "I have to run a couple errands, but can you order me a sandwich and a big soda, please?"

With that, he jumped out of the trunk and strode off across the parking lot and around the corner. I sat for a minute, bemused, but was really too hungry to worry about what he was up to for too long.

By the time he finally strolled around the corner again, two blank white plastic bags in his hands, I was sitting in the truck, my sandwich already gone. "God, it's about time," I groused, but really I was feeling much more cheerful after getting some food.

"You ready to go?" he asked, starting the truck without waiting for confirmation. "I'll eat and drive so we can make better time."

"What exactly were you up to?" I asked suspiciously as he backed up and pulled out of the parking lot, looking innocent. "I was bored out of my mind waiting."

"Ahh, well, I thought you might be bored! All this driving, you know." He reached behind him into one of the mysterious plastic bags, and pulled out a garishly pink book and tossed it into my lap. "I got some reading material for you!"

I stared distastefully down at the book. "It's in His Kiss," proclaimed the cover in golden swirls. Behind the letters a man pulled the shoulder of a woman's old-style gown down and devoured her ear as her unrealistically massive breasts strained to pop out of the dress and her mouth opened in a cheesy gasp. Oh no. Absolutely not. I might be bored and still mildly horny, but I had some self respect. I was not reading trash like this.

Ten minutes down the road, I reached over and clicked on the radio, hoping that I could find some sort of talk show or something. I glared in protest when Stephen clicked it right back off. "What! I'm bored!"

"I know, Rach. That's why I got you something to read. If you're bored, open the book."

I clamped my lips together, frowning. It wasn't going to happen.

Stephen looked over and laughed at my mulish expression. "If it helps, one of the exes really liked that author. I don't quite remember which one... But you know I don't sleep with stupid women."

Nope. I sat silently a few minutes longer. "So, have you talked to – "

I growled when he cut me off. "Nope, no conversation," he smirked. "If you're bored, you have a book."

Fine. I was going to look out the window then.

A long 3 minutes later, I decided that this was a stupid desert. There were no cactuses, no red rock mesas, nothing but this blasted scrub brush everywhere and scatterings of cows.

Two minutes after that, I sighed and opened the book. I knew what Stephen's plan was – but I also knew that something this cheesy was not going to affect me.

Surprisingly, I was enthralled by the Viscount and his escapades with Jane, his little sister's best friend. And so far, Stephen's plan had backfired – they hadn't even kissed, although Jane had been hopelessly in love with him her whole life. I sighed wistfully along with her as she watched the rake Viscount twirl a beautiful society miss around on the dance floor... and shrieked as icy cold Coke gushed across my chest and onto my lap.


"Ooh, Rachel, that's a bummer..." he said, overly sympathetic sounding.

I tried to glare, but I was too busy dancing around in my seat trying to keep the icy icy liquid out of my unmentionable regions.

He pulled off the highway onto a small dirt pullout. "Gosh, that looks cold... must be uncomfortable. You might want to change clothes."

"Stephen! Seriously, what the hell are you up to?? Now I have to get all the way in the back to my suitcase, which is under everything, and I'm not even sure I brought enough clothes!"

I opened the door, but still sat in my seat, feeling overwhelmingly infuriated.

I didn't even pay attention when he reached into the back again and rustled around. It dawned on me finally when he tossed a bundle of fabric into my lap – this was all part of his plan to win the bet. That infuriating man. Anger fueled my stubborn commitment to this farce of a bet even more. Fine. I could meet any damn challenge he pleased. Uneasily, I looked at what he had handed me – it looked to be plain blue cotton, but I could see some black lace peeking out of the middle. I was uneasy about what exactly I might be getting into, but at the same time I was cold and sticky – and I had a bet to win. I sighed, defeated. "Okay, fine. Where am I supposed to change? There's nowhere here."

He grinned. "Well, you'll have to work something out – you aren't sitting in my truck all covered in soda! In fact, I'm not letting you back in or driving anywhere until you're changed!"

I panicked, looking around. There was absolutely no cover around us – just miles of highway and the truck, and I had seen plenty of traffic along the road today. I glared at Stephen, not liking to feel trapped this way.

"Rach," he said in a slightly softer voice, "I won't look. I promise."

All right, it was time to be a big girl. I trusted Stephen, and if he said he wasn't going to look then he wasn't. And admittedly, there were no cars within sight distance along the highway. I hopped down out of the truck and closed the door, sitting the bundle of clothes on the edge of the bed. I separated the items out one by one – a blue skirt, black shirt, and then, the embarrassing part – a matched lingerie set in black lace. My face burned, knowing that Stephen had picked this out himself, and that to do so he must have been imagining my body pretty clearly. But really, there was no going back now, and in all honestly it wasn't worse than something I'd have picked myself. I stripped down quickly, unwisely taking my top and bra off and then going for my pants without thinking to cover up at all. I had trouble with my jeans, sticky with soda and clinging to my thighs, and I was wriggling to get them off when I heard the sound of a car cresting over a distant hill.

Shit. I wriggled faster. Pants off, pants off, okay, pants off. My panties followed urgently, landing on the ground on top of my jeans, and I snatched the bra off the truck. It fit exactly, which I found irritating, but what I really noticed was how much of a pushup effect that it had. There had to be an inch of foam in the bottom of each lacy cup, and once it was on I felt like I had cleavage up to my ears. Rolling my eyes, but secretly liking the effect, I glanced at the road again. Shit, shit, shit. The car was closer – close enough that I could see the vague shape of human figures behind the windshield. I grabbed the panties, barely looking at them, and yanked them over my legs and up. They weren't a thong, but they were definitely cut higher on the cheeks than I usually wore, and the lace was transparent. Oh well. I didn't have time to be modest. The car was rushing towards us, and I could definitely see what looked to be two men inside. I grabbed the shirt, pulled it on frantically, jumped into the skirt, and then yanked open the door and leaped into the truck. Right then the car passed by – at about ten miles per hour, the two teenage guys inside rubbernecking and wide-eyed the whole way by.

Dammit. I blushed, and looked down at myself, frozen in a moment of dismay. The skirt was fine – flowy blue and ankle length, but the tight black tee was a deep vee neck. All that new cleavage was pouring out. Surprising even myself, I busted up laughing. This was too ridiculous – I looked like some kind of sex goddess, and I had definitely just given those guys a free strip show.

Stephen was guffawing next to me too. "Ohmygod, Rachel, hahaha, ohmygod, did those guys just see all of you?"

I nodded, almost crying from laughing so hard. "Pretty sure... I just made... their day!" I gasped out.

We finally collapsed into a companionable silence, flopping against our seats, and after one last giggle worked its way out I looked over at Stephen, meeting his thoughtful gaze already on me.

"What's this all about, anyway?" I asked, grinning. "That wasn't sexy or anything – that was insane!"

He sat up and wiped his eyes. "Okay, I'll admit that last bit wasn't necessarily part of the plan... I was just getting you into something nicer! Making you feel sexy is step one of the plan."

I started to protest that I wasn't exactly vulnerable to seeing myself in low cut shirt, but he looked at me and warmly said "I've got to say, I have great taste in clothes, too... or maybe great taste in friends. You look gorgeous."

Something lit up inside me at his words, and I smiled back at him happily. "Come on, you cheesy man. I'm immune to flattery. Let's try to make the hotel before midnight, okay?"

With that, he started up the truck, and I opened my book back up. Maybe he was right about feeling sexy. I considered my undergarments and smiled, deciding that if Jane had these, maybe she wouldn't have so much trouble getting her hands on that heartbreaker the Viscount. Even though the panties seemed to have bunched up, giving me an awkward camel toe, I still felt like hot stuff.

100 pages later, I was absolutely entranced. Jane had just slipped into the wrong room in her nightgown, trying to find her way to bed as a guest in an unfamiliar house, and there stood the Viscount, shirtless. She was breathless and frozen, waiting for his reaction, and so was I. "Jane," he said in a rough voice. "You shouldn't be here." Her breath caught in her throat (and so did mine) as he strode quickly towards her. He grabbed her chin firmly, and tilted her face towards his, dragging her gaze off his chiseled chest. My eyes widened in alarm and excitement. Was he angry - or vulnerable? Was he finally going to kiss her?? "You need to leave," he rasped. Jane opened her mouth to explain, but his eyes fell to her lips, and his body heat radiated against her, and she felt herself swaying into him and slipping her lips between his. I breathed out heavily. This is what we had been waiting for, Jane and I... He hadn't stopped her, he must love her! Jane was utterly lost. The Viscount was kissing her urgently, moist hot lips parting hers as his free hand threaded through her loose curls, tugging her to him. Unschooled as she was, she kissed him back enthusiastically, moaning as his tongue swirled against hers. I breathed heavier and bit my lip, feeling the twinges of arousal within me – and froze at an unfamiliar sensation. Something twinged between my legs – almost like a faint vibration. I wiggled backwards in the seat, trying to pull myself off my bunched up panties. I clearly needed to calm down. My eyes focused back in on the page. "Harry," murmured Jane between hot urgent kisses, "Harry..." saying his name over and over again to assure herself that it was actually him, there, kissing her. He pulled back for a moment, eyes dark with arousal, and – I could not get the feeling between my legs to go away. It was wreaking havoc on my composure, tickling away against my slit. My forehead furrowed as I finally looked up and thought about it. I glanced over at Stephen, who seemed to just be driving along, unaware of anything I was doing. He had one hand on the wheel, and the other hanging down at his side, nodding his head along to the faint sound of the radio.

"Uhm, Stephen?" I said thickly, trying to sound composed.

He glanced over, looking decidedly bored. "Yeah?"

Hmm. "How much longer till we get to the hotel?" I jerked as the vibration suddenly leaped into a full-fledged thrumming and then faded away just as suddenly.

Stephen looked back over at me again, holding my eyes for a minute. I was definitely feeling suspicious as he casually said "Say that again?"

The vibration reappeared as faintly as it had begun. I gritted my teeth and said carefully "How much longer till the hotel?"

"Oh, probably about an hour – just long enough for you to finish your book. I don't mind if you turn on the overhead light, since it's getting dark." Midsentence, whatever it was pulsed hard directly on my clit, and I gasped as my muscles clenched. "Uh, are you okay?" he continued.

Dammit. I knew that mischief crinkling around the corners of his eyes and lips. Carefully looking again, I decided the one-handed driving was because there had to be something in his left hand... Probably a remote, I thought, cringing to realize that the second pulse running through me was being caused by him.

Holy shit. This was a whole new level of – of whatever we were doing. I nearly shuddered in arousal with the thought that the faint pulsing against my slit was coming from Stephen. It may not have been his hand stimulating me, but – sweet Jesus – it was still technically him. I realized that I must have had a bit of an exhibitionist streak, since I was nearly cumming with just the thought that he was watching. My skin prickled with panic and anxiety as I dragged my mind away from that line of thinking. I knew I couldn't deal with cumming in front of him again – I just couldn't. On top of that, Stephen didn't lie to me – and he had promised that he wouldn't try to seduce me.Although this felt intimate, a quick look at his face showed me a smug expression, but no signs of seduction. Clearly, this was about the bet to Stephen, and nothing else. And you know what? There was no way I was going to let him think he was winning. Challenge accepted. I was absolutely not going to admit this was getting to me. I would focus on my book and keep my composure for the next hour, and then as soon as we got to the hotel dive into the bath for some well-earned relief, with Stephen none the wiser.

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