tagExhibitionist & VoyeurWatching Eve Pt. 05

Watching Eve Pt. 05

byClynelish1©

CHAPTER 8: EVE'S COFFEE

KNOCK-KNOCK.

"It's me, can I come in?"

Even with the central heating on, Eve's house was a little too cool to be walking around wearing nothing but a towel. I cursed as I burnt my knuckles on the two hot mugs of coffee in my left hand as I, a little apprehensively, pushed down on the door handle to Eve's bedroom with my right.

"Come in," Eve called. I could hear Kelsea Ballerini quietly singing 'Peter Pan' through the door, from Eve's iPhone.

My mind was working overtime wondering what she'd be dressed in. She'd had a whole half an hour to get herself ready. Silk and lace in the colours I knew from my 'observations' she liked, dark green or blue. Holdup stockings and a basque that accentuated her waist but concealed the tiny bit of baby fat around her belly. Or a crotchless fishnet body stocking. Or she could be dressed from head to foot in rubber or pvc (Not my thing I'm afraid). Or a school uniform maybe, I had no idea how Eve liked to dress up once her window blinds were closed. I pushed the door completely open and walked in.

She was lying on the bed, several pillows behind her propped up against the headboard, reading the latest Mo Hayder novel through tiny, bronze rimmed reading glasses.

"Thank you," she said, marking her page and closing the book, "put coffee here." She indicated the shelf on her side of the bed. I did as she asked, watching her out of the corner of my eye as I moved around the bed. She was dressed in pink tartan pyjamas and her fluffy white towelling robe. Thick woolly bed socks with a cuddly rabbit motif completed the outfit. What the fuck? Did she have an edible thong and bra on underneath maybe?

"I like to read English books," she explained, "it, uh ... improve my English."

"I like Mo Hayder too. Have you read Clare Mackintosh?"

"No. I add to my list," she patted the bed next to her. I sat, being careful not to spill my coffee and lifted my legs onto the bed. Was pretending to be a middle-aged married couple how she got turned on, I wondered.

"I thought we were going to ..."

Eve looked at me questioningly over the tops of her glasses.

"I thought we were ..."

"You have sex already," she said and sipped her coffee, "we talk now."

"Uh ... t-talk?" I stammered. For some reason the prospect of a conversation with the object of my lust filled fantasies sounded scary.

"You know how to talk don't you?"

"Uh ..."

Eve rolled her eyes, "Typical man. What you do for work?" she asked.

"I'm a, um ... graphic designer. I also write and illustrate ch-children's books."

"You have books published?"

"Seven so far," I answered, "but I've not actually sold many. What do you do? I've seen you head off to work every day and I've never known where that is."

"Dental assistant in Alnwick."

"Wow," I said, grinning, "so when your boyfriend finds out what I've been up to and knocks out all my teeth, I can ask you to fix them."

I expected her to laugh at the joke or smile at the very least, but instead a dark cloud moved across her features, "Not boyfriend anymore. Finish."

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean ... I just assumed ..." I decided to change the subject, "have you known about me watching you?"

"You make it obvious when sunlight reflect on binoculars."

I'd never thought of that. But there was no sunlight to cause reflections during the dark winter evenings, "I um, watch you when you get home at night as well."

"Headlights reflecting on binoculars. What your girlfriend think about you watching? Being ... what do you call it? Peeking tom?"

"Peeping tom. She er, doesn't know," my scalp prickled at the turn the conversation had taken, "you won't tell her will you?"

Eve was silent, watching me as she drank her coffee out of her Little Miss Sunshine mug. In that few seconds I was back at grammar school, summoned before the headmaster for some childish schoolboy misdemeanor. Or in the dock waiting for a jury to decide my fate.

"Will you?" I prompted. I studied the dimples at the corners of her mouth as she sipped her drink.

"This good coffee," there she went again, changing the bloody subject. She tilted her head on one side and pushed her glasses up her nose with one delicate finger, still studying me. I felt like a sample on a microscope slide, being examined. Some newly discovered microbe.

"I vill not tell your girlfriend," she said, "you have my word."

I let out the breath that I hadn't even realised I'd been holding until then.

"On one condition ..."

Oh fuck, here it comes.

"I vant to watch you."

I wasn't sure I'd heard her right, "Say again?"

She leaned back against her pillows and stretched her legs, wriggling her woolly rabbit shrouded toes as she did so, "I vant to vatch you and your girlfriend make love. I vant to see you fuck her."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever ..."

"That is my condition."

"Wait, I can hide my camera in our bedroom and video us ..."

Eve folded her arms and shook her head, "No, not good enough. I want to be there."

Sorrel wasn't a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but she would certainly never agree to having one of our neighbours around to watch us have sex. Especially one who looked like Eve. And even if she did, she'd want to know how Eve came to know me and how the arrangement had come about.

"I can't do it Eve, I'm sorry."

She grinned at me and ran the fingertips of one hand up my thigh where the towel covered it, "You are not only one who has camera to hide and record. You do as I say or your girlfriend ..."

She clicked her fingers a few times as if trying to recall Sorrel's name.

"Sorrel," I supplied. I peered around the room. Did she really have a hidden camera or was she bluffing? I couldn't risk it.

"You do as I say or ... Sorrel ... will find out all about you."

I nodded dejectedly.

"Drink coffee before it go cold."

CHAPTER 9: EVE'S CONDITION

I drank my coffee and we talked some more about books we liked, films, her son Ivan and even about Sorrel. I discovered that as well as being stunningly attractive and a fantastic fuck, she was also witty and intelligent. All the hours spent watching her through binoculars or my camera's viewfinder, I'd never even considered what her personality was like. She was a genuinely lovely person and I wished we'd met under different circumstances so I could invite her around to meet Sorrel openly. I was sure they would both get along.

All evening, at the back of my mind was the niggling worry about how I could meet Eve's condition. I wondered if I should just admit everything to Sorrel. Own up to being a pervert. Would she pack her bags and move back to her parents? They didn't need any more ammunition, they hated me enough already. The rich guy from the south west who drew stuff on a computer all day instead of sweating through a day's hard graft at a real job. Who'd stolen away their beautiful daughter, an honest, hard-working northern lass.

No, I wouldn't give them the satisfaction. And I wouldn't lose Sorrel either. I would do as Eve asked, but I needed time to think just how.

Eve's fingertips sliding up my thigh underneath the towel were becoming quite distracting. I gently grabbed her wrist to stop her, "I'd better go."

I rose to my feet and started hunting around for my clothes. Eve had carefully folded them and placed them in a pile on the chair.

"But I promise you blowjob," she pouted.

My cock twitched at that as if it had ears of its own. I tugged on my briefs, trying not to let the towel slip. Eve smiled.

"M-maybe another time, it's been great talking. We should uh, do it again sometime."

"You fuck very vell too," Eve slid a hand into her pyjama top and cupped her breast, "vhat I have to do to get you back in bed?"

"Maybe another time, I need to think about our deal. I don't know how I'm gonna pull it off," I slid a leg into my trousers.

Eve raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"No, not that. The deal, it'll take time."

Eve rolled onto her stomach and rested her head on the backs of her hands, watching me with mischievous eyes, "Things that don't have deadline never get done. I set deadline."

I stood on my other trouser leg as I pushed my leg into it and tripped over, falling with a loud thump against the dresser, "Fuck!"

"You okay?"

I rubbed my bruised shoulder as I stood up, "What deadline?"

"One week," she said, looking me straight in the eye, "I vatch you fuck your girlfriend in one week, or I tell her everything."

Why the hell didn't I spend the evening in front of the TV with an Outlander boxed set instead of sneaking into my sexy young neighbour's house? Or go to the pub for a few bevvies, or do something really entertaining like get into a slanging match with the in-laws?

One week ...

I quickly finished getting dressed.

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