Window of Opportunity

Note: This story was a collaborative effort. I only wrote Jocelyn's part; my friend Pete wrote Sean's part.

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As long as the ancient boiler pumped out hot water, Jocelyn wasn't moving from the shower. While her body stood motionless, her mind leaped over her various aches in a detached, nearly clinical, manner. She was in good shape physically, maybe the best shape of her life, but four matches in three days -- all of them three sets, all of them grueling -- had turned her body parts into a chorus all singing the same note: agony.

The Labor Day weekend tennis tournament had seemed like such a good idea, a chance to get to know some of the people in the condo complex better and maybe to find some new partners. Everybody was scheduled to play Friday night and Saturday with total games won determining who would play in the semifinals Sunday. A barbecue would follow the finals on Monday. Jocelyn had seen some of her neighbors play and had no illusions about getting past Saturday. And that was fine with her. Get some chores done on Sunday and relax at the barbecue Monday.

She should have known those plans would dissolve when the rain came Friday night, washing out the first round of the tournament. Rain in the Bay Area in September? Happens about as often as a "Nuns Gone Wild" video, she had thought.

The rain meant everybody had to play two matches on Saturday and Jocelyn was shocked when a cross-court backhand in the third-set tie-breaker gave her her second win. The good news: She was in the semis. The bad news: She had to play the next day.

Somehow she ignored her screaming muscles to win in three sets Sunday and split the first two sets Monday. But that "mind over matter" stuff only goes so far. The last set was a death march. Her calves and thighs cramped repeatedly, her elbow sent searing bolts through her on every stroke. It wasn't about winning anymore, it was about surviving.

And when match point bounced harmlessly past her -- a lazy forehand that couldn't have been more than five feet away -- all she felt was relief.

Now it was the hot water's turn to give her relief. Jocelyn adjusted the Shower Massage to its strongest pulse and let it pound on her aching body. As she turned the shower head to direct the throbbing stream at her thighs, a blast hit directly on her clit. The sensation startled her out of her thoughts of pain. "At least that part is still working," she thought with a smile.

When the water finally began to run cold, Jocelyn climbed cautiously from the shower, wrapped herself in a towel and walked into her bedroom. Living on the top floor of the building, she had grown careless about closing her drapes and now, as she looked into the mirrored doors of her wall-to-wall closet, she could see the reflection of a man in the window of the unit across the courtyard. Her first instinct was to go back to the bathroom and get her robe. But then the memory of the pulsating water hitting her clit returned.

"Do I really have the guts to do this?" she thought.

* * * * * * * * *

At some point during the last three days, Sean had managed to turn his Labor Day weekend into a complete disaster. Then again, it probably wasn't a single moment that had turned the weekend sour. It was most likely just a combination of every single bad thing that had happened from 5 o'clock Friday afternoon till now.

Sean didn't really know where to begin, and he didn't really want to give himself the manual recount. But of course, he couldn't help it. There was the disastrous blind date on Friday night courtesy of a friend at work who was convinced that some girl named Shelly was the one for him. Right for him except her high pitched voice, her snort-filled laugh and her apparently aching need to discuss religion over dinner.

Then again, it might have been the car accident on the freeway the day after. A nice meeting with the back of a conversion van when he hadn't been paying attention. Sean cringed at the thought! of the estimate from the mechanic that he had received.

Sunday brought about torture of a completely different sort. He had been getting ready for his normal Sunday afternoon run when he had run into a woman that had made his heart almost stop. She had been making her way toward the tennis courts. Her attractively lithe body had caught his attention immediately and held it so strongly that he had to close his hanging mouth in shame when she caught sight of him. Thinking back on how hotly his cheeks had burned once he realized made him embarrassed even now. Seeing her walk off toward the courts was a painful reminder of how poorly his love life had been going.

Today had been quiet so far, and Sean had taken some time to purge himself of bad karma by staring at the television for a few hours. Rubbing his eyes, he looked at the clock on the wall. It read 9:07 p.m. Resigned to the fact that his Labor Day weekend was a complete bust, Sean got up from his couch and headed for his bedroom, eager to bring an early end to the weekend.

As he walked by his apartment's porch window, something grabbed him out of the corner of his eye. He turned toward the window to get a better look. The primitive part of his brain knew exactly what he had seen, but the more civilized part could not believe it and needed to make sure.

Sean's eyes adjusted, and when they came to focus on the unit across the courtyard, he thought that he could feel his eyes bulging out of their sockets. In that apartment stood a woman. She had his back to him, and was wrapped in a bath towel. There was no towel around her head though, and her dark brown hair hung down to the middle of her back.

There was a familiar stirring in Sean's crotch that he could not deny. The horrible night out with Shelly on Friday night along with all of his previous romantic mishaps over the past year had all conspired to make Sean very excitable. To see a beautiful woman who was only a mere step away from total nakedness, that was enough to get his blood pumping a little faster.

Sean looked on, his mind racing with a million different possibilities. Most of them were the kind of stuff that only happened in cheesy porno movies, he knew, but he allowed himself to think on them as he watched. The woman was just standing there in front of what looked to be double doors to a closet.

The woman's arms were starting to move. Her hands crawled along her body, over the towel wrapped around it. They gently traced her hips and came dangerously close to brushing her ass.

Sean's eyes were locked to her hands as they wandered. Sean's mind picked one scenario out from the others, and he suddenly realized that it was becoming more and more likely that it would play itself out in front of him. His mouth dropped open at t! his realization, and for a moment, his entire body froze from the shock of it.

Sean knew that he had binoculars in his room. He knew that if he could just tear himself away from this sight for a moment, then it would be so much better when he returned. Closing his eyes shut hard, Sean practically sprinted for the bedroom.

He frantically rummaged around, cursing himself for not keeping the room in a cleaner condition. Every second in the bedroom was a wasted second that he could have been spending out the! re, watching that sexy woman in the towel.

When he finally found them after what seemed like hours, Sean whirled around and ran back to the window, almost tripping over the bedroom door in the process.

He halted in front of the window, and put the binoculars to his eyes.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Jocelyn let her hands follow their instincts, tracing the curves of her hips as they glided over the soft terrycloth of the towel. Her long-suppressed sexual appetite, shocked awake by the presence of the stranger across the courtyard, hungered for a more intimate touch. But as her fingertips brushed across the knot of the towel between her breasts, another decidedly less erotic thought filled her head.

"What," she thought "if he is some kind of maniac? Or one of those condo board Nazis who are always threatening fines for little things like hanging a beach towel on your balcony? What if ..." Jocelyn's conjecturing vanished as she glance in the mirror again and saw that her solitary audience had abandoned his vantage point in the window. Despite her misgivings, her only reaction to his disappearance was one of regret. "Damn," she realized, "I really DID want to do that."

For a few moments, Jocelyn surveyed herself in the mirror. At 27, she decided, she looked better than she ever had before. The baby fat that had plagued her through her teens and early 20s had melted away under her relentless regime of tennis and bicycling. Her coldly assessing eyes told her that she would never be a Cosmo cover girl, but also admitted that her well-toned figure and long, shapely legs might draw more than the occasional stare. "Yeah, but not tonight," she thought ruefully.

With a toss of her honey-colored hair, Jocelyn shook herself from her reverie and turned to open the closet door to get her nightgown. "Whoa! What's this?" she thought. Her courtyard companion was back at his window -- this time with a pair of binoculars. Giggling to herself, Jocelyn could think just one thing: "Game on."

With her back to the window, Jocelyn slowly untied the knot that held her towel in place. When it came undone, she spread her arms, holding the towel behind her like the wings of a butterfly. She had studied her body in the mirror earlier, but not like this. Not totally uncovered. And not while knowing that all she had to do was drop the towel to let a complete stranger see the reflection of her naked breasts and pussy in the mirror.

Jocelyn hesitated only a second before releasing the towel, letting it drop in a puddle at her feet.

Because of her position in front of the mirror, Jocelyn knew knew that her neighbor could see every bit of her -- front and back. The taut, firm ass that she had worked so hard to get. The full lips of her pussy that she trimmed religiously every week -- just in case. The smallish but nicely rounded breasts. And the dark nipples that had become instantly erect when she dropped the towel.

As she looked down at her nipples, Jocelyn knew this was the moment. If she was going to do this, it would have to be now. And with that thought, her fingers found the nipples of both breasts, rolling them back and forth. She moaned softly to herself as her eyes darted to the mirror to make sure she hadn't lost her audience. She hadn't. And with a secret grin, she thought, "You haven't seen anything yet."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Two realizations dawned on Sean mere seconds after putting the binoculars to his eyes. The first was that this was the same woman he had seen on Sunday. The one that had left him a bumbling idiot with his mouth hanging wide open. Sean had to struggle with a momentous embarrassment as the twinge came back again. That twinge was quickly overcome though by the second realization that there was almost no way for the woman to not know that she was being watched thanks to the mirror on her closet door.

This would have been plainly obvious to anyone thinking in their right mind, but Sean was far removed from that. The need to look on closer, to catch every detail of this stunning woman as she explored her body herself, had driven Sean to grab the binoculars. There was little point in trying to turn back now.

Sean took a moment to get the focus of the binoculars as sharp as possible. The object of his voyeurism was still standing facing the mirrored door of the closet, affording Sean a great view of her body wrapped in that white towel. She stood there obviously admiring her own body just as he was. The seconds that followed as she just stood there were blissful agony for Sean.

But then, Sean's heart stopped for the briefest of moments as he saw the woman's hand start to unknot and unwrap the towel. Grabbing an end in each hand, she brought her arms out, leaving the towel spread out across her back. She held herself there for a few amazing moments, and Sean took in every detail of her body that he possibly could. He couldn't help but think that she looked like some angel from heave! n. Everything about her seemed perfect. Her breasts, the way her hips flared out, her long sexy smooth legs, everything, inspired thoughts of lust in Sean's mind. Her face looked as angelic as her body, and Sean thought for a moment that he could see a wicked smile flash on it.

Sean's eyes were pressed hard to the binoculars. He had to remind himself to breathe when the woman dropped the towel. Again, he swore he saw it fall to her feet in some sort of erotic, slow motion instant replay. His eyes followed hungrily as her hands wandered to her amazing breasts, her fingers dancing over the nipples. Her head dipped back as if she was absorbed by the pleasure spreading from her nipples. Watching her, Sean couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to have those nipples between his fingers, feeling them stiffen under his touch as he played with them. He imagined his hands touching those firm breasts, following hers as they caressed the undersides.

The throbbing sensation in his groin was starting to become uncomfortable but Sean was too mesmerized to do anything about it. The woman's hands, now making there way ever so slowly down the front of her body, were leading Sean through some sensual trance. He was hopeless to do anything but follow their lead.

They rubbed her toned belly in soft slow circles, making the whole thing seem that more hypnotic to Sean. Finally, those delicate hands settled on her mound, and Sean knew that only a four-alarm blaze in his apartment would be able to wrench him away from this sight now. He felt like he could pay attention to each finger as it moved along her body, as if he were standing right next to her rather than looking at her from across a courtyard. He could feel his body temperature rising as he watched her hand move over her pussy, her body responding ever so slightly with a bend at her knees.

Thoughts kept racing through Sean's mind of what he would be doing right now if he were in that apartment with her. He imagined their bodies pressed close together in front of that mirror, every inch of their skin making contact. Sean shuddered at the thought, positive that he could feel her warmth against him, the softness of her skin tantalizing his body, making every nerve feel ablaze with life. The thought was almost too much.

Thinking about what he would do made him think naturally about what must be going through her mind. As quickly as he had realized, watching the show made Sean forget about the fact that this woman knew he was privy to her show. His cock pulsed angrily underneath his pants, and he knew he would need release sooner or later. Would things end if he decided to join in on this dance? Is that really what this woman wanted?

Sean brought his eyes to focus on the woman's lovely ass. So tight and firm, it made his cock twitch even more. There was really only one way for Sean to find out. So he kept watching.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jocelyn could feel her sensitive nipples pulsate against the pressure of her fingers and again she felt that familiar longing and regret. How she wished that that her breasts were fuller, that she could lift them in her hands and bring her nipples to her mouth. Memories of other mouths flooded her consciousness, memories of the near-mystical feeling they had created. And with those memories came an aching need.

Her right hand -- the one lover she could always count on -- strayed from her breast and slid over the slight curve of her belly, drawn lower by the almost magnetic pull of her pussy. The first feel of her silken curls left her open-mouthed, crying silently to the mirror in her need. Jocelyn hesitated for the briefest moment, wanting only to stretch that instant of anticipation. But this was not a night for teasing, at least not teasing of her own inflamed body.

In one swift movement, her hand slipped through the last of her furry covering and across the tiny patch of bare skin below and found the tip of her clitoris straining to emerge from its protective hood. "Cunt." The word flashed across Jocelyn's brain. How she loved the sound of it -- and, even more, the feel of it. The heat, the wetness, the slippery feel that defined its purpose in life.

Usually when Jocelyn masturbated, she focused her attentions on her clit, teasing it, stroking it, tugging its hood, rolling it between her fingertips. But not tonight. Tonight was about penetration, about fucking, about using her slender fingers to substitute for what she was sure her observant neighbor would soon be stroking.

Despite the shaky feeling in her knees, Jocelyn raised her left leg, bracing the bottom of her foot against the hamper. The change in position opened her -- but not enough, not the way she wanted to be. Soon her left hand found the soft nest between her legs, spreading the lips of her pussy wide wide. She was ready. Oh so ready.

"Fuck me," she mouthed to her imaginary lover. "Fuck me with your hard, beautiful cock." And as she stared at the reflection of her cunt, she eased the two fingers that would replicate that cock deep inside her. She wanted to hold them there, to squeeze them with the muscles of her pussy and savor the sensation of her walls encasing them. But her body had other needs. Her pussy screamed for movement, for friction, for ... fucking. And that scream wasn't to be denied.

As the muscles of her pussy relaxed, Jocelyn drew her fingers nearly all the way out before beginning a rhythmic pumping. Her fingers plunged to her depths over and over again and she thrilled to the feel, to the view of her swollen lips opening repeatedly to welcome the pleasure, to the unmistakable liquid sound, to the scent that filled her private world. Every one of her senses nearly overwhelmed. "No, wait," she thought as that familiar throbbing sensation built inside her, "not quite every one." And that thought alone was enough to push her toward the edge.

The fingers of Jocelyn's right hand pulled free of her clutching cunt, replaced instantly by those of her left. As she felt her body rising to clear that last hurdle, she brought her right hand to her mouth, sucking hungrily at the fingers that had stirred her soul. Maybe it was the thought of a long-ago college dorm encounter, maybe it was the utter lewdness of the act in front of the stranger across the courtyard. The why didn't matter. The taste of herself on two of her fingers while two of her others darted in and out of her was too much and she bent nearly double as her cunt exploded. It was fire, it was lightning, it was all the invisible forces of magic -- and it was a scream that anyone within blocks could hear, a scream that Jocelyn wanted to be heard.

When the last contraction slowly faded away, she lowered her foot from the hamper, turned slowly from the mirror to face the window, smiled and mouthed "Thank you" to the darkness.

_ * * * * * * * * * * _ All of this sweet build up had been quite the experience for Sean, but once he saw the woman of his desire lift her left leg onto her laundry hamper, everything seemed to take on an entirely different meaning.

All of the urgency that had been pounding at the dam until now was finally starting to break through. Every one of this woman's movements through the binoculars seemed much more carnal, passionate and fanatical. It was obvious that as much as this was about sharing a sexual experience with a stranger, it was also about finding relief and release and finding it now. Sean wanted everything to last as long as possible, but the primal part of him was now taking control. The pulsing of his groin was growing almost painful as he watched and struggled in vain against the beast awakening within him.