Someone's Been Watching Me

Hi everyone, I don't have an editor so I'd love to hear all your writing critiques! Also, if you're interested in helping me edit future works let me know. Hope you enjoy my little story :)

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I'm being watched again.

I was in the library when I felt it, that now familiar shiver running up my spine, telling me I wasn't alone. In an instant I was alert, my book left forgotten as I cast my gaze around for the source of my unease but it was late and I was the only one still sitting in this quiet little corner of the library. There was no sound apart from the faint buzz of fluorescent lights and the beating of my own heart. When had it gotten so dark outside?

I restrained myself from calling out. There was clearly no one around and even if there was what would I say? Oh sorry, I just thought there might be someone watching me. I'd much rather avoid that awkward conversation.

Still I couldn't help but feel like I was being watched—stalked like a wounded doe as she stumbled noisily through the underbrush. I let down my hair from it's ponytail holder, arranged it around my shoulders to hide the vulnerable nape of my neck and got back to my book. After coming to the end of the page and realizing I hadn't taken in a single word though I decided it was time to leave. I had nothing to prove by staying except to myself and at that point I was willing to admit that I was a coward.

Stepping outside, the chilly air bit at my skin where it wasn't covered by my jacket. I curled my hands into fists and stuffed them into my sleeves as I waited for the bus.

Two girls nearby talked loudly to each other as they fidgeted to keep warm in their short skirts and bare legs, clearly headed out for the night whereas I was headed in. I envied them, not looking forward to returning to my empty apartment, especially feeling the way I did. When the bus arrived they got on first and I sat two rows ahead of them, comforted to have their chatter at my back.

By the time I reached my stop the feeling of unease had lessened. The entrance to my apartment building was brightly lit despite the dark street around it and—for what I could afford on my student budget—the code locked doors provided decent security.

Entering my little studio apartment I decided to take a shower, the promise of steamy hot water calling to my chilled skin. For a second I wondered if I should check the bathroom for cameras or something but dismissed the thought as silly. My apartment had a lock and I was the only one with the key. I turned on the water and stripped out of my clothes, leaving them in a pile with my white cotton undies on top. I've never had much in the way of sexy underwear having never had a boyfriend but randomly, I wondered then if I should buy some. After all, what 21 year old doesn't own a thong, or at least something lacy?

Checking the water's temperature against the sensitive skin of my inner wrist, I deemed it warm enough to step in. Then I took my time shaving and washing everywhere, luxuriating in the scent of my lemon honey body wash and the freshly saved smoothness of my skin. Reluctant to step out of the steamy confines of the shower stall I turned the spray to low and palmed my breasts as warm water droplets continued to sluice down my body. At first I wasn't thinking of anything in particular but as I pressed my nipples to the cool glass of the shower wall, causing them to harden to needy little points, I recalled the sensation of eyes on me from earlier.

Were those eyes staring at me coldly or were they hungry? How long were they standing there, eating up my every movement and expression?

I bit my lip.

What would I do if my stalker were here now?

As if in answer my fingers trailed down to my pussy, finding it wet.

What if he stepped up behind me—caged my smaller body with his own? What if he took both my wrists and held them in one hand above my head so that he could trail kisses over my neck and shoulders?

I was pressed up against the glass now. My hips were rocking, almost unconsciously, against the heel of my hand, the motion creating delicious friction against my clit.

What if he pushed into me from behind, taking my virginity? Would I struggle?

Or would I give up control and submit to him willingly?