From A Distance (Closed for AntonTovaras)

SurrealObsession

Really Experienced
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Oct 28, 2012
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136
Starla Summers was shy, and always had been. It wasn't a lack of self confidence that created this quirk to her personality. More a desire to observe that had led over the years to her becoming used to being in the shadows. She noticed everything around her, and yet so often people did not quite notice her.

It wasn't that she was unattractive or plain. While not a supermodel, she was reasonably good looking. Her hair was long, thick and dark, falling to her mid back. Her eyes were a rich brown surrounded by thick eyelashes. Her skin was smooth and olive toned. Even her body was in fairly good shape; she was of an average weight, with slender hips and a small ass, but larger than average breasts that maintained most of their firmness.

Overall, the 23-year-old was pretty and would have turned head in most situations. But her habit of quietly shirking attention kept her from gaining nearly as much interest as most girls her age. Something that, for the most part, suited her fine.

She was not interested in guys from her college or indeed around her age. Her boyfriends were few and far between, though she was no virgin. It did, however, leave her a little lonely. Would it be so hard for someone, anyone, to notice her as she was?

It was this that was going through Starla's mind as she silently glided through the aisle's of the Barnes and Noble by her house. She was looking for something new for her night time reading, but she felt so distracted that even taking in the titles of the books was proving too much.

Grabbing one at random, she sighed softly and moved to a nearby armchair to skim through it.
 
Shane McIntyre prowled through the shelves, his head down but his eyes up, glancing here and there. He had come to find a book, an innocuous enough errand, he thought, but he had been distracted by her. It had just been a glimpse of olive skin and dark hair when he was looking at the stacks of discounted books near the entrance, but he had turned to look, and that was when he truly saw her.

Shane was in his early 40s, and had the lean shape and taut face of a man who sustained himself on black coffee and very little actual food. He wore a dark wool jacket and jeans, and with his dark hair just beginning to grey at the temples and his blue eyes, he should have been handsome. There was something furtive about him, though, even as he shopped for books, and he could not remember whether it had been his career as an investigator that had made him this way, or if he had become an investigator because he loved to watch people. He felt a connection with the people he watched that was almost intimate, though they rarely knew he existed.

It had become a compulsion, so that even here, at Barnes and Noble, his eye was drawn to a certain type of person. The people who were secret. Not just those who had secrets, because who didn't? But those who moved as though they were invisible. Who never suspected that they would be watched. Who lurked in plain sight, unseen. They were always fascinating to him, but they were, for the most part, unattractive people who had never been noticed. This one was special. This girl was beautiful, and had still somehow managed to have that quality. How she must have worked at being hidden.

All of that he had spotted in a glance as she wandered down the aisle, and he had taken a moment to think. He had no cameras, not even his phone with him, because he had just come out for a book. It was frustrating, but he was an extraordinarily patient man. He strolled around the store, looking for her. He would see what she bought and where she went. If it took the rest of the day, he would find out where she lived, and then she would be his.

He spotted her in an armchair, flipping through the pages of a novel as casually as though she were in her own living room. He paused at a display and opened a book at random, photographs of animals in Africa, but his eyes were on the girl. Come on, darling, he thought, let's see where you live.
 
While she noticed the man standing a short distance away, the usually observant Starla didn't really register him on any conscious level. He was an older gentleman, attractive, but with something about him that encouraged you to forget. Like he was only half there, sliding through the shadows in the same way she herself did. Two ghosts meeting in a bookstore, and she with no idea of where that meeting would lead.

After a time, she decided the novel she had selected would be good enough for some light reading. Standing, slid past the man with a small, polite smile that she would forget she had ever given him. Then just as quickly as she had moved beyond him, he was gone from her mind.

Downstairs, she purchased her book and then stopped by the attached Starbucks to grab an espresso to go. She had been staying up late recently, barely sleeping as juggled work and university. That evening she would be working a shift at the small diner where she waited tables for shitty tips. The caffeine boost would be her only saving grace.

Moving down the street, she never would have suspected that she was being followed. Instead, she noticed everything but the man from the bookshop as she headed into a quiet residential area filled with average family-oriented apartment complexes.

At the far end of the street, she stopped in front of a small duplex where she rented out the right-bottom side. She was lucky enough to be well acquainted with the owner, who was an old family friend. He had allowed her to live there for a discount, so she didn't have to keep a roommate in the two bedroom home.

Moving to the backyard where you accessed her apartment, she dug for her keys in her overstuffed purse. Then moments later she was slipping into the kitchen and closing the door behind her.
 
She walked straight past him, smiling that polite smile that said she expected to be forgotten. He returned it, noticing soft lips and the stunning brown eyes that slid off him before they really registered him. He turned, watching her walk, her little butt swaying in her jeans as if no one would notice how sweet and round it was. No one did, except for Shane. She went to the register, and he went to the parking lot and got in his car. She would come out, get in her car and drive away. He would follow at a discreet distance in his forgettable little Toyota.

Except when she came out, she didn't get in a car. She walked down the road with a coffee, and he had to make a quick calculation. He could get out and follow her on foot, but few people walked in this area. All she would have to do was turn around and she would see him. She might recognize him, or she might not, but it was a clumsy way to proceed. He pulled out of the parking lot and went the other way, whipping around the block and getting back to the street just in time to see her cross, two cars ahead of him. Luck was with him, and he held back a good distance until he saw her head into a residential area.

He kept a close eye on her then, and saw her walk up to her house. He turned onto the street, going slowly, getting a good look at her going in. Not a house, he realized when he saw her opening the gate in the fence rather than going in the front door. An apartment in a house. He smiled as he let the car drift past. She hadn't knocked, or called out to anyone when she went in. This was not a boyfriend's or a friend's house. It was where the girl lived, and if he was any judge, she was planning a night in, alone, reading.

The high fence kept him from seeing more as he drove past, but it was a good thing. People with high fences thought wanted privacy. More than that, they imagined they had it. He made a loop around the block, and grinned when he saw the service alley that cut behind the houses. There were bushes and trees, all overgrown with vines. He'd have no trouble finding a safe vantage point to watch her from at night. There would be plenty to see, he thought. It was almost 5, and she had been drinking coffee.

He never came to a complete stop, but rolled right out of the residential neighborhood onto the commercial street. He had a report to write on a job he had just finished, and he would let the girl wait until dark. He pulled into a little diner and ordered a coffee and a plate of fries. He only ate a few as he typed out the report on his laptop. No wifi explained why the place wasn't doing any business, and also meant he would have to return to Barnes and Noble to send the report. It was an inconvenience, but he didn't mind. He was too busy imagining the girl would be doing at night to worry about the little things. He was so busy that he almost didn't see her walk in.

He spotted her a moment before she opened the door, and he kept his eyes fixed on the laptop. She didn't walk past the booth, though, and he risked a glance over his shoulder. She had gone, and for a moment, he thought he must have imagined her, but then he saw the kitchen door swaying. She worked here. He dropped a few bills on the table and got out before she came out of the kitchen. As he drove back to the bookstore he grinned. He had her work and her house. It wouldn't be long before he knew everything about her.
 
Starla didn't notice the man from earlier slipping out of the diner and onto the street. Her mind was far too occupied with getting through her four hour shift and back to her place for a hot bath and her book. By the time she came back out in her apron, there was nothing in her thoughts but reaching the end of her night.

Thankfully, the four hours were busy. So before she knew it, she was walking out of the restaurant, counting out her tips with a little bag of food from work dangling from her arm. Within minutes, she was home and walking gratefully through the back door entrance of her sanctuary.

Because she had no neighbors behind the duplex, she rarely closed her blinds. It felt friendlier and more open to have then drawn, and with the fence surrounding the backyard it never occurred to her that anyone could see her from the little strip of alley behind it. No one ever seemed to be back there at night, anyway, the narrow street used for services like cable that were taken care of during business hours.

Tonight was no different. Both the blinds and the windows were open, letting in the fresh and crisp autumn air. She moved about her apartment, first serving up her food and eating at the tiny table in the kitchen.

As soon as she was done, she moved to her bedroom and began to undress. Pulling her long hair into a bun, she slid in nothing but bra and panties past the window over her bed. Then taking her book, she moved into the little bathroom for a soak in the tub.
 
Shane sent his report along to the client and checked his email. He ran a few errands and generally managed to keep himself busy for another hour. Then he parked his car on one of the side streets and took up a position where he could see the diner's door. At the end of her shift, the girl came out with a take out order in a bag, and walked back towards her house. He waited until she had turned onto her street and was out of sight before he made a move. He walked on a street parallel to hers and found his way into the little alley behind her house.

It was dark enough that he had a little trouble finding the right spot, but he had long been accustomed to working in the dark, and he found the phone pole he had picked that afternoon. It was a little too close to the maintenance shed, and he was able to brace his back against the shed and walk up the telephone pole until he was on the shed's roof. The sprawling branches of an old tree hid him from the alley, and he had a perfect view of the yard.

He spared a glance for the other apartments in the building, mostly to decide if any of the tenants were likely to come out and catch him. He saw little of interest, beyond the blue glow of television screens, and he turned his attention to her apartment. From the roof, he could see most of her kitchen, and a little way into the bathroom off of it. He could see her bed and a mirror on the closet door gave him a little more of the room. Her living room faced the side of the house, and other than the sliver he could see through the door from the kitchen, it was mostly hidden from him. It was a problem, but one he could address later, he thought, as he watched her eating her dinner, at her tiny kitchen table. She read her book as she ate, and had the mannerisms of one who was comfortable on her own, betraying little sign of loneliness.

He took out his camera, using the powerful lens to watch her as though he were sitting at the table with her. Mostly, he studied her face, watching her as she took each bite, chewed and swallowed slowly, watching the tiny changes in her expressions as she read, and checking the title of the book she was reading.

When she finished eating, she went into the bedroom, and he had a tantalizing glimpse in the mirror of her undressing. He was only able to see a narrow vertical strip of her body, but it was enough to make him clench his fists with excitement. Then she walked in front of the window, her hair up in a bun, her perfect body almost entirely exposed, in nothing but a bra and panties. She was everything he could have hoped for, and he felt himself stiffening at the sight of her.

She went into the bathroom, but for a perfect moment as she was walking in, her panties hugged the cheeks of her ass just right and he clicked off a few quick shots. When she leaned over to start the water running in the tub, he got a few more. The angle was infuriating, and he wasn't able to see her undress, but he saw her bra and panties drop to the floor, and got a momentary image of her face in the window before she lowered herself into the tub.

Knowing she was soaking in her tub just out of sight was torture, but it was a familiar one. He was patient, and he knew the water would cool long before his excitement. He could do other things in the meantime. He used his phone to check the air for wireless signals, and was able to isolate hers with a little experimentation. From there, it was easy enough to get her ISP and slip into her computer. A few keystrokes, and he had a mirror of her screen set up to record in his office, so he would know every site she looked at, every IM or email she sent or received, everything she did on her computer. Every file from her hard drive was being copied.

"You're mine now," he whispered softly, and then he changed the settings on the webcam so that it was on whenever the computer was. He had his view of her living room now. This accomplished, he returned his full attention to the bathroom window, which was unfortunately steamed up.
 
The hot water did wonders to ease the ache in her muscles, and Starla sighed happily, blissfully unaware of the activity in the alley behind her home. All she knew was this would be the first night she had off from school work in weeks, and the next day she only had a single lecture followed by a lab that evening. The anticipation of a down day was even more relaxing than the day would be, itself.

She read in the tub for awhile, enjoying the quiet and the story. But before too long the water was going cold and the bottoms of her toes were becoming wrinkled and soft. Still, she didn't actually stop reading until the bathroom door slowly creaked open and swung to bump against the wall. Her cat, a fat and fluffy white thing, came in letting out a little 'meow' to get her attention.

"Hello there, Mr Biggles," she said affectionately, reaching down to screatch his ears. He meowed again, more insistently, and she rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, I will feed you. Keep your fur on."

Putting aside her book, she kicked the stopper with her foot and allowed the water to begin draining. Grabbing a towel, she stepped onto the mat and directly into line of site of the door that now sat wide open thanks to her fuzzy friend. She paid it no mind, nor the open window beyond it as she began to pat herself dry.

Once her back was free of the water, she released her hair from the bun and shook it out down her back. Then, wrapping the towel around her body, she moved to the kitchen to feed the cat.
 
"Thank you, cat," Shane whispered, as the door opened and the bushy white tail bobbed into the bathroom. The girl's hand reached out to scratch the creature, and he smiled. He never believed that you could really get to know someone until they were alone, and he saw how they acted when they thought no one was watching. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the way she reached out to pet the cat without thinking, showing no irritation or annoyance, but he liked it.

He liked it better when she got out of the tub, and he got his first good look at her naked body. He used the camera to zoom in until it felt like he was standing next to her as he snapped pictures of her body, her tight little ass and her full round breasts with perfect, dark nipples, and the smooth mound of her puss, winking between her thighs as she dried herself off.

She wrapped the towel around her body and came into the kitchen again, pouring cat food into a bowl and setting it on the floor. She moved awkwardly, and he couldn't think why until he realized the cat was twisting around her ankles. When it was fed, she walked more normally, and he felt a powerful urge to go knock on her door, to announce himself.

It was too stupid to think about, that urge, and he quashed it immediately. Or he almost did. Though he stayed hidden in the darkness on the roof of the shed, he imagined how her skin would feel, all warm and smooth, doubtless moisturized from the bath. He imagined her scent, something feminine and subtle, he though. No overpowering floral scent for a girl like this, or the candy scents that some of the younger girls seemed to favor.

He put the camera down and felt himself, hard as a teenager and pressed against the roof of the shed. Across the lawn, he saw her pass back into her bedroom, and he grinned. When he was younger, it would have been nearly unbearable to watch her, knowing he could never have her. Now, though, he wanted nothing more than to watch her from a distance. Except that he couldn't help imagining her beauty in his arms.
 
Moving back into the bedroom, Starla opened her drawer and pulled out a simple pair of drawstring yoga pants and a tank top. She didn't plan on going out for the rest of time night, and wanted nothing more than to get comfortable. She dropped the towel and dressed quickly, letting down her hair, unaware of the view she had offered as she stood directly in front of the window.

Stretching, she yawned and moved over to the small desk in the corner, picking up her laptop and preparing to fire it up from sleep mode as she had left it that afternoon. Frowning, she noticed that it had seemed to have activated on it's own, her desktop already loaded and ready for use.

That was odd...she could have sworn she put it into sleep mode before she left. The battery didn't look that drained, considering it had to have been up for hours. It never occurred to her for a moment that someone had gained third party access from another location. Starla wasn't even aware that such a thing was so easily possible.

Also failing to notice the dim light that indicated her webcam was running, she opened up her browser and checked her email and Facebook accounts. While she was shy in real life, online she was much more open and had a number of people she spoke to from all over the world. So both sites had several messages to reply to, which she did happily.

One that immediately caught her eyes was an email from Noam. The Israeli born young man, about a year older than she was, had become a pen pal a couple of years before. He had spent his mandatory service in the army, and she had lost touch. But a few months ago he had shown up again, sending her an email, and their correspondence had started anew.

Despite the many disagreements they had, primary due to cultural differences, they got along well. If she was honest, she had a little crush on the man. Which she was sure came across in her innocent and clumsy flirting, and which he more boldly responded to all the time. It left her flustered and anxious, but also excited.

This message was no different, and she blushed as she wrote him a quick reply with her own brand of light flirtation. Unaware that they were not the only two able to read it.
 
Shane gritted his teeth when she dropped the towel, exposing herself to him completely. The girl was incredible. He snapped silent images of her as she stretched, and slowly dressed herself for bed. For him, watching her dress was almost as erotic as watching her undress. There was a natural sensuality to the way she moved, a comfort with her own body that only came from someone who was alone. He was prepared to watch her slip between the sheets and go to bed, but then she went to her computer.

He watched her desktop on the tiny screen of his phone, as she checked her email and her facebook. From time to time, when she was looking at message from her family, he would switch to the webcam and see her face and her shoulders. He couldn't see her breasts with the angle the camera was at, but the way they looked swelling out against the fabric of her tanktop as she stood by the window was permanently burned in his memory.

The picture that he was forming of her life matched his first impression. There didn't seem to be anybody special to her. The only one that she even flirted with was on the other side of the world. The silly grin on her face as she contemplated her reply to his email actually gave him a little surge of jealousy, but he knew better than to react to it. It amused him, in a way. Once he had been bothered when a girl didn't know he existed. Now, it was his ideal position. She would never know that he was watching her. A girl like Starla had to have somebody, and the fact that somebody was so far away reassured him that she liked to keep her distance.

He had a vague hope that something a little more risque might develop between her and the mystery Israeli, but it would not happen tonight. He saw her hopeful look as she sent her flirty little message, and then saw her resigned disappointment as she checked back again and again. It would be the middle of the day in Israel, he thought, so whoever this boy was, he did not have a job where he could reply in the middle of the day. Or he simply chose to keep her waiting.

She had that bored look that meant she wasn't finding anything to keep her attention, and he thought she might be ready to go to bed. He was almost relieved, for he had been laying on the roof of the shed for a long while by now, and had teased himself into a frenzy watching her. That was probably why he sent her the message.

He wasn't stupid, he didn't send it from his own email, but created a dummy account under the name "SecretAdmirer0o" and he sent a brief message. "Hello. Have you always been so shy?"
 
Starla was about to call it a night and curl up in bed with her book when her email refreshed and showed a new message awaiting her. At first she thought it was from Noam, and her heart leaped into her throat. Her disappointment was only momentary when she saw it was not from him, but a strange email account.

Her first thought was that it was spam, some kind of site trying to get her to click to find her "secret crush". She had seen enough of them in the past, after all. But something about the subject line was too personal, too...human. It didn't look like spam to her.

She felt her brow furrow in confusion as the cursor hovered over the message, not yet opening it. While she didn't know why, there was something that made her nervous about the email. As though she could sense that it was about to bring some form of stir to her carefully molded life. Like it presented some kind of a threat to the order of her existence.

Realizing that she was being silly, she mentally shook herself and clicked the button down. The message inside made her breath catch, and she blinked as she read it over again.

"Hello. Have you always been so shy?" she said out loud, but in a hushed voice. Shaking her head, she tried to make sense of it. Was it a spam message, after all? It was definitely a strange thing to find in her inbox. She bit her lip as she considered in, half tempted to just send it to the Trash folder and try to forget about it.

After a moment, she reconsidered. The prospect was just too tempting, the message too mysterious. Besides, if it turned out to be spam then the only person who would know would be herself. It could be embarrassing, but it wasn't as though anyone would know about her foolishness.

With this firmly in mind, she opened up a reply window and typed out a quick message in return.

"How do you know I am shy?"
 
He watched her hesitate before she opened it. He watched her eyes widen in surprise and curiosity. He watched her lips move as she read the message, and he grinned. Her eyes darted back and forth as she read it again and again. He watched her bite her lip as she thought about it, and he silently urged her to reply. He held his breath and then he saw her eyes drop to the keyboard as she typed, a secretive smile on her lips.

Then his phone vibrated in his hand, and he checked her message.

"How do you know I am shy?"

So many ways, he thought, but none that he could tell her. Not without giving some part of his game away. He flipped back to the web cam and saw her face, hope and doubt and curiosity flicking across her features as her mind tried to sort out this strange message from out of the blue. He took a deep breath and caressed the keys as he sent the next message.

"Just a guess. If you're not busy, we could play a game."
 
Starla sat staring at her screen, waiting, wondering if she would get a reply. After a few moments, she began to feel the sting of embarrassment. Of course it had not been a real message, what was she thinking? Whoever was manning that spam account was probably just going to chock her up to one of the many idiots who fell for such a thing...

But then there was refresh and a reply sat in her inbox, as threatening as living presence. Her breath caught and her nerves clattered, fingers immediately moving to her mouse pad to click the message.

It was as brief as the first, but undeniably written by a human. Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she licked her lips. A game? She couldn't even begin to imagine what that might entail. Not to mention who could possibly be teasing her in the first place. Was the screen name genuine? Was it really a secret admirer?

Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage and put her fingers once more to the keys.

"I love games. How do we play?"
 
He saw sharp breath when his email hit her inbox, and saw how quickly she opened it this time. He grinned when her olive skin flushed pink, and then she actually licked her lips. He clenched his teeth and let out a soft groan. He thought quickly about pulling back. He could watch her with her webcam and play the game from his car or his home for that matter, instead of laying on this shed's roof, with the risk of getting caught and the discomfort. He could have a cold beer and jerk off watching this beauty play his game, but he dismissed the thought. The thrill came from the risk, the proximity. From knowing she was just across that yard, wondering who he was.

“I'm going to ask you a question, then I'm going to ask you to do something fun.
“You're on the honor system. We play until you chicken out.
“First question: What are you wearing?”

It was a cliché, of course. The kind of thing sweaty-palmed teenagers asked, but his reasons were different. It might turn her off, but he had a feeling she would roll with him for a while. After all, if her exchanges with the Israeli were any indication, she wasn't particularly jaded. He wanted to know if she would tell him the truth. He sent the message, and then flipped back to the webcam to watch her reactions.
 
Once more, she bit her lip as she read the reply he had sent holding a question that made her mystery suitor's intentions perfectly clear. It made her nervous; well, more than nervous. She could feel her hands shaking slightly as she tried to decide what to do and what line she should draw in this little 'game' she had agreed to.

Stella was no prude. Her sexual history was a little lacking and she didn't have much experience, but there were no hangups that she thought might hold her back in the future. But he was right - she was shy. Painfully so, and while she had many desires there was no bravery that prompted her to act on them. Sex just wasn't a part of her life, at the moment, and she had no intention of letting it be without a firm relationship upon which to include it.

But here she was, her heart racing with equal parts fear and excitement at the unknown admirer who was asking what she was wearing. Could she bring herself to answer him honestly? Would he believe her, knowing that she could be wearing anything at all? Would she chicken out, like he suggested?

Forcing her mind to stop racing ahead (a bad habit of hers), she took a calming breath. But even as she did so, her eyes darted around as though someone were there to catch her. A silly notion, but one she could not quite shake as she put her fingers to the keys.

"Nothing fancy. I have on a pair of yoga pants, the kind with a drawstring, and they are black. Then a tank top, with thin straps, and it is dark green." She paused for a moment, a tiny shiver of naughty excitement moving through her as she added, "Nothing underneath."

With a fluttering of butterflies, she hit send.
 
He saw her hesitation and her fear written plain on her face. He understood better than he cared to think about, for he had not so much as touched a woman sexually in years. Even the thought of it made him dizzy with anxiety, but this was different. Here, he had complete control, complete security. There was nothing to lose here, and still the thrill of it made his breath come fast.

She looked around, as if sensing someone was watching her, and for a moment he looked around, as if there was some way she could see him. Her fingers that had been hovering over the keys suddenly began to fly, tapping out a message. She sent it and sat back, her face a portrait of nervous anticipation, and then he switched back to his messenger.

She had told the truth. More than the truth, she had made a point of telling him that she was wearing nothing underneath. He knew that she was going to bed and that she was simply dressed for comfort, but what had begun innocently could become naughty. When she told a perfect stranger that she was wearing no underwear, it meant more than comfort.

He grinned. She was falling right into line.

"Naughty girl," he typed. "You sound sexy. Maybe I was wrong about you being shy. I bet you have at least one pair of really sexy panties that you wear when you're on a date and you're thinking about going all the way. Go get them, and describe them to me."
 
His reply came back even more quickly this time, and she glanced at her dresser when he requests she grab her sexiest underwear. She knew this was a point that she could pretend about. Even if she described a piece of her lingerie, there was no real reason to do as he commanded and grab them out of her drawer. After all, she knew what her underwear looked like.

What caused her to stand from the bed and walk across the room was the thrill. Just the plain heart pounding, shiver inducing, inside melting naughtiness of taking orders from a complete stranger. It was frightening, as she had no idea who the man was (if it was a man) that she was giving power to. She had no idea what had prompted their sudden interest, or if she could be opening herself up to risk. But it was so exciting to step into that void.

Taking out the only actual lingerie set she had, she walked back on shaking legs to the bed and settled down. For a long moment, she fingered the crisp, black lace in her hands before responding.

"I have them beside me. They are made of lace and black. The underwear are the kind that are cut into mini shorts and hug the hips. The bra has a half-cup so it only covers part of my chest. I can't believe I am telling you this..."
 
He watched her through the window as she went to her dresser and searched through the drawer for a moment. He wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but he thought he could detect a slight change in her posture, maybe a little bit more of an arch to her back, to accentuate her curves, as if she knew she was being watched. More like, as if she wished she were being watched.

It seemed that Starla purred when she got attention, even when it was as simple as someone flirting with her online. She pulled out not only panties, but a bra as well, and he smiled. Once again, she was going a step further than he had asked her to, needing the attention as badly as he needed to watch her. When she got back in her bed, she was out of sight again through the window, but he was able to watch her through the webcam as she blushed and caressed the lacy black things for a long moment before she typed.

He wondered what she was thinking as she fondled her lingerie, but he did not yet have a window into her mind. Then he got one. Her last remark told him that she was nervous, that she was excited. She couldn't believe she was telling him this? He let out a long, slow breath and typed his response.

"The bra was a bonus. Thanks. I wish I could see you wearing just that. So if you can't believe you're telling me that, do you think you can tell me when the last time you let a man slide those panties off was?"
 
She actually covered her mouth with her fingers to hide the smile as the color once more flooded her cheeks. Now that was a much more personal question, and one that she was rather embarrassed about. If she was honest with herself, she felt quite ashamed that she had gone so long without a boyfriend.

But with her schedule and busy life...no, that was a lie. Stella knew all too well that her intimacy issues went well beyond just not having time for a man. Even her own self delusions were not strong enough to mask the truth, or her loneliness. Perhaps it was that same feeling of isolation, added to the safety of anonymity and distance, that was making her so bold now.

"Too long. My last boyfriend and I broke up almost a year ago, but he had not been interested in me sexually for a few months before that. So I guess it has been almost fourteen months since I last was with someone."

The last was a rather coy euphemism. But despite her description of her lingerie, and even going so far as to admit she wasn't wearing panties, she was still very anxious about crossing that line into what she felt was inappropriate talk. She refused to even begin considering the aching building slowly between her legs at the attention she was enjoying from her shadow correspondent.
 
He clenched his fist and stifled a shout of triumph when he saw her face flush again, and the smile hidden behind those pretty fingers was not lost on him. When she began to type he could see her hesitation. How much did she want to open herself to a total stranger, after all?

When she sent her response he could see her uncertainty lingering. He hoped he hadn't pushed it too far, but when he read her response he smiled. She had once again told him more than she needed to. He could feel the need inside her to share her sexuality with him spilling out, but he could see her fear written plainly on her face.

“It's late, sweet girl,” he typed, and then paused. He could go on if he chose, but he still had to get home and get some sleep. There would be work to be done in the morning before he could resume his surveillance of her. On the other hand, one look at her face told him she was practically squirming. He could push her quite a bit further tonight, he was sure, but he wasn't sure how far.

If he pushed her til she chickened out, it meant game over, and it was clear that the girl was apprehensive. Anyone who went fourteen months without sex clearly had some kind of issues. Of course, he had gone far longer than that, but there was no doubt in his mind that he had issues. He was a peeping tom, a stalker, a creep. He couldn't get aroused when he was actually WITH a woman. He knew it, and he accepted that women would find him repulsive if they knew. As long as they didn't know, he was fine.

“You've been very brave,” he typed. “So I will ask you to do something for me and ask you a question at the same time. What I want you to do is, wear that beautiful lingerie you described to me tomorrow, so you'll feel sexy all day long. My question is, can I see you again tomorrow night?”

((and just to be clear ... HE is calling it a night ... not me))
 
Wear the lingerie? Normally, the request would make her blush. But she was far too caught off guard by the end of that statement. "Can I see you again tomorrow night?" Did he mean that in a figurative sense, or was this someone she actually encountered daily? Obviously, he had some knowledge of her, or he would not have written. Somehow in the excitement and nervousness of their conversation, however brief, she had forgotten that fact.

Swallowing, she glanced at the window in a far off way. Her mind barely noted the quickly thickening darkness as it moved from late evening into true night. Somewhere out there, on the other end of a computer screen, was someone who saw her but she did not see. It was terrifying.

It turned her on.

Licking her lips, she sent off a quick reply, afraid that if she didn't keep it succinct she would back out and run away.

"Yes" was all she said, and with that turned off her laptop, put the lingerie on her bedside table to wear tomorrow, and tried to ignore the feeling of shuddering fear that was warring with her lust.

(( I am afraid I have to go...I only jumped on long enough to reply. But I will hopefully "see" you tomorrow, as well. ;) ))
 
A one word answer, but at least it was the right word. Shane had seen the fear on her face before she sent the message, and he worried that maybe he had pushed her too far. Now that he had his answer, he would leave her. He knew he might miss another glimpse of her in the window, and there was even the chance that she might be excited enough to masturbate, but he wasn't ready to watch that yet. In his own, strange way, he needed more intimacy before he could enjoy that.

With the darkness as cover, he slipped off the roof and down into the alley, his hard-on tenting his jeans ridiculously and making him even more careful to stick to the shadows. It was a quiet neighborhood, though, and aside from an older man taking a little dog for a late night walk, he saw no one as he made his way back to the car.

At home, he watched the video he had taken of her through her web cam, keeping a few choice moments, such as when she licked her lips and blushed. The rest he deleted. He did the same with the photos he had taken through her window, only keeping those that showed her at her most beautiful, deleting the rest. He only kept one in twenty, at the best, but he had shot hundreds. He studied these, reaching out to touch her image on his screen, and when he went to bed, the image of her perfect body danced in front of his eyes.

The morning was taken up with his actual work, and he met a client for lunch, a lawyer who gave him many jobs. The man was disappointed when Shane passed on the job, and asked why. Shane shrugged and just said, “I'm seeing someone. I can't really get involved in any open-ended surveillance gigs.”

The lawyer grinned, thinking he understood, and they finished their lunch talking about the college football playoffs. The afternoon was torture, as he drove by the diner and saw she wasn't there. He had copied her class schedule from her hard drive, but he knew better than to try to stalk her on campus. He was too old to pass there, so he settled for sending her an email. She should get it on her phone, he reasoned, and if not, she would reply when she had time.

“Hope you're having a great day,” he said. “Are you still my good girl who does what she's told?”
 
That morning she dressed normally, save one fact: she wore the undergarments her secret admirer had requested. Stella had felt nervous and naughty as she slipped them on, putting her usual jeans and t-shirt over them. It was a casual day, with no classes save a single lab later in the afternoon. So she would be spending the day running errands and seeing some friends for lunch.

All through that meal as she listened to the other two girls, Jessica and Erin, chattering on about their lives, she kept shifting and feeling the lace pulling against her sensitive nipples or sliding against her hips. It was causing that dull ache to build once more between her thighs. Her mind kept wandering to the emails from the night before, and the question of what it was sending them.

"Stella! Hello?" She blinked as a pair of fingers snapped in front of her face. Both girls were staring at her, looking amused by her obvious day dreaming.

Blushing furiously, Stella muttered a quick, "Sorry, what were you saying?" The two laughed, glancing knowingly at one another.

"OK, spill it, who's the guy," Jessica said, taking a sip of her drink. Again, this caused a deepening of pink in Stella's cheeks. Nothing too forward had happened so far, she knew that. But something about the whole situation and her own unease, matched with her intense attraction to the scenario, made her reluctant to divulge any details.

Besides, part of the fun was knowing this was her little secret.

"No one. I mean, there is a guy in Israel named Noam, and I kind of have a crush. But..." The lie worked, and Jessica rolled her eyes while Erin made a face.

"Online dating? Come on, Stella, you are too good for that..." The conversation turned to the topic of long distance relationships, then circled as it always did back to the two girl's lives while she was swiftly forgotten and blended back into the background like she always did.

It was not until she was walking out of the restaurant and hailing a cab that she checked her phone. The SMS alert system, which she had silenced prior to meeting her friends, showed that she had a message waiting. With bated breath, she slid into the back of the cab, gave her address and read the message.

Her heart was pounding, her body tingling. She was suddenly even more aware of the lace under her clothes. She sent off a quick reply from her phone.

"I wore them, just like you asked. I just sat through lunch with some friends from school, and I kept thinking about the emails last night and what was under my clothes."

As she sent it off, it occurred to her that she had not thought to ask him who he was. But, she realized with a jolt, it might ruin the fantasy if she learned the answer.
 
Shane had gotten back to work before he got Stella's reply. It was a simple insurance scam, and he had been videotaping the supposedly crippled “victim” shopping for clothes and showing absolutely no sign of any spinal injury, despite appearing in court in a wheelchair. It was a slam dunk, really, but he was staying on it because he felt a strange uncertainty. He had watched girls before, and hacked their computers, and stalked them before this, but with Stella, he had already taken a step further. He had revealed himself to her. Not the real him. Not the fact that he was stalking her. In fact, as he scrolled through their conversation, he didn't think that he had given himself away at all. Just suggestions.
Still, he had made contact with her. As he had feared, that had changed things. He had been looking forward to continuing their game, and when he sent his message, he waited anxiously for her reply. When it didn't come in a few minutes, he felt a curious mix of sadness and anger, and had made himself get to work on the insurance case. His thoughts were on Stella, though. He had pushed her too far, and she had retreated, obviously, once she had thought it through, she had decided that this was not what she wanted. She would retreat to her safe little emails with Noam, and he would go on with his life, with nothing to show but regret. At least, he told himself, she had only rejected the game, and not him. At least he hadn't revealed himself to her to that extent.
When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he took it out and had a look, thinking it must be a new client. It was Stella. It had been forty minutes since he had sent her the message, and his first thought was to wonder what had taken her so long. He considered not replying, but quickly, he realized that he was far more involved in this game than he should be. His emotions were virtually naked. He had no real defense against what he was feeling, because it had been so long since he had been involved with an attractive woman. Not that this counted as involvement, he realized.
Lunch. Friends. A part of him felt a knot of jealousy form tight inside him at these people who got to sit and eat lunch with her and call themselves friends, but he knew that he was being absurd.
“When you get home, don't change,” he typed. “Text me, and we'll continue our game.”
 
She got a reply from him almost instantly, and she felt that wave of mingled excitement and fear that was becoming familiar where he was concerned. Biting her lip, she read the message and closed her eyes.

Continue their game. Yes, that was what she wanted, what she craved. It was all still so strange and surreal, like she was doing it all in a dream. There was even a faint touch of danger lurking in the background, one she didn't quite understand or know how to respond to. But she couldn't stop herself, wanting more than anything to see where it would lead and give herself over to the base desires that were overwhelming her with each new message.

When she got home, she quickly moved around back and let herself into her home. The moment she had put her purse and keys on the kitchen counter, she was opening up her inbox through her phone and sending him a new email.

"I am home, standing in my kitchen. Thinking of you. I can't seem to stop..."
 
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