This is a story about a FANTASY. The fictional characters in my stories are trained and experienced in acts of FANTASY - don't try to do what they do - someone could get hurt.
If you think you know somebody who resembles any of the characters here, congratulations, but you're wrong - any similarity between the characters in this story and any real person is purely coincidental, since all of these characters are figments of my imagination.
This is my story, not yours. Don't sell it or put it on a pay site. You can keep it and/or give it away with all of this information intact, but if you make money off of it without my permission, you're breaking the law and pissing me off.
Yes, I was staring, I made no effort to hide it, either. This was exactly the reason I chose this apartment complex instead of one filled with people my age. There were a number of young college students in residence, many of them female, and most quite lovely to my eyes.
Then there were the guys. No, I wasn't checking out the men, but on weekends many of them were likely to have girlfriends over, and the girlfriends only added to my viewing pleasure.
So, I spent a lot of time by the pool, in the shade of an umbrella, staring. If one of the girls made eye contact, I smiled, but I didn't try to hit on them. I knew my chances were somewhere between slim and none, but damn they were easy on my old eyes!
Every once in a while, I would get a smile in return. Mostly, I got that blank, 'you're not there' stare, meaning; 'How dare an old perv like you look at a sweet young hottie like me?!'
I didn't care. I wasn't on the make and I wasn't breaking any laws. I was just looking for inspiration.
See, I'm a writer. I write Science Fiction books. I do well enough that I don't have to worry too much about money, and I love the conventions and book tours. Problem was, lately, I had been struggling, looking for the next BIG IDEA. Now I know what you're thinking: what do sexy young women have to do with inspiration for a Sci-Fi writer?
Well, to tell the truth, I'm not sure, but I've found that when I get blocked like this, a little time around nubile young nymphets clears my mind, and the ideas just - come.
At least, they had in the past, and I was sure they would again, so I sat by the pool, tapping away at my computer, and ogling the youngsters.
At the moment, trouble was brewing over on the other side of the pool. There were about five young ladies gathered together, talking in low voices. From the furtive glances they occasionally shot my way, it was pretty clear what the topic of discussion was. I was about to be confronted for being the perv that I am.
True, I could have just picked up my laptop and gone back to the apartment, but that would only have sent them to the landlord, or worse, the cops. So I sat, drank some water, and watched them come. The chosen spokesperson was a petite, dark haired young lady, one of whose parents must have been Asian. When the group stopped about ten feet away, she kept coming until she was standing between me and the afternoon sun.
"Excuse me, young lady," I said, before she could decide how to begin. "I can see you've got something on your mind, but would you mind moving around here to say it? I don't like squinting into the sun."
I was more concerned with the fact that, with the sun behind her, I could only see her silhouette. Not that it wasn't a lovely silhouette, but I preferred to see the whole package, and not squint into the sun while looking.
"You keep staring at us," the young lady accused, obligingly moving to the indicated position, thus giving me a better chance to stare at her. "What is your problem?"
"My problem?" I repeated. "My problem, miss, is that I'm old enough to be father to most of you young ladies, so it would be inappropriate of me to hit on you, but you are all so lovely that I can't help but drink in your beauty."
I don't know what response she was expecting, but it apparently wasn't that one.
"Why us?" she finally asked. "Why don't you go find some women your age to ogle?"
"Have you seen what most of the women my age look like?" I asked, and in spite of herself, she giggled a little. "I'm sorry, miss. I don't mean any harm. I'm strictly an eyes only kind of pervert. I wouldn't even attempt to touch one of you without a very clear sign that such an advance would be welcomed. Now, let's see a show of hands from everyone who thinks that's going to happen any time soon..."
The other girls had moved closer so they could hear what was being said, and I addressed the last sentence to them. It got a round of titters, as expected, but it also lightened the mood a little bit.
"Yeah, the story of my life," I sighed theatrically, then; "Look, girls, you're all beautiful young women, and unless you're going to wear burkas or something, it's hard NOT to stare. I don't mean to be impolite, but watching you helps clear my mind so that I can get back to writing."
"Writing?" the spokesgirl asked.
I nodded. "For money, I write Science Fiction books. For fun, I occasionally write something really nasty to post on the web."
Their eyes kind of glazed over when I said 'Science Fiction' but that last sentence perked them right up again.
"Nasty?" one of the girls in the crowd asked in a hushed voice.
"Yep," I answered, "very nasty."
"Do you write about us?" the spokesgirl asked angrily.
"Of course not," I answered, "you're just my inspiration. I don't even know your names."
There was a whispered conference, close enough that I could have eavesdropped if I cared to, then the tall blonde asked shyly, "Can we see some of your stories?"
"Oh sure!" I answered, deliberately misunderstanding. I reached into my computer bag and brought out a copy of my latest Sci-fi book. "You can actually pick these up in any bookstore."
"Not those stories!" the blonde said, disgustedly.
Behind her, the shy brunette with the glasses said, "Hey, I've read that! It's pretty good!"
I gave the brunette a private smile and a wink, then turned back to the blonde as the brunette blushed.
"I don't know if I can show you the other kind," I said. "I think you have to be eighteen in this state to read that kind of thing. I wouldn't want to get in trouble."
"We're over eighteen," the blonde insisted, and got a chorus of nods from her friends.
"I don't know, girls," I said skeptically. "I think I'd have to see some ID, at least."
The blonde immediately turned to the bespectacled brunette and dispatched her to the other side of the pool to retrieve purses. I waited, smiling. If I really had been a sexual predator ... But I wasn't, and when the brunette arrived with the purses, and they all started digging for ID, I let them have it, before they got a chance to show me stuff I shouldn't know.
"You girls go to UCSD, right?"
A chorus of "Uh huh"s answered me.
"Well for smart girls, you sure are acting stupid," I told them, as the IDs started to appear. "Look at the front of your ID. What do you see besides the picture and the ID number?"
They looked and turned back to me with puzzled expressions.
"Your names and addresses are on there, dummies!" I almost shouted at them. "If I really was a sexual predator, you might as well give me the keys to your homes!"
There were gasps of shock and the cards quickly went back into their purses.
"Don't EVER show those to anyone who doesn't have a legal right to ask for them," I scolded in my best fatherly voice. Shaking my head, I continued, "Sheesh! You girls are easy! Look, if you really want to read my adult stories, you can find them at this URL..."
I gave them the URL to my StoriesOnline account, written on a scrap of paper.
"Uh, thanks, Mr. Hooper," the brunette with the glasses said. She was as pretty as the others, but from her demeanor, I guessed that she wasn't really part of their crowd. Probably a roommate to one of the others. "Um, if I, I mean, that is, could you, um sign my copy of your book?"
I took the copy that I had shown them earlier, and opened the front cover. Smiling, I said, "Why don't I just sign this one and give it to you? I get a few for free, and I've got no one else to give them to."
"Oh! Well. If you think ... I mean, sure!"
"Who shall I write this for?" I asked, pen poised over the page.
"Oh, um, Melissa. Melissa Drummond."
I have a number of stock dedications I use for such situations and I wrote one of them to Melissa without even thinking about it.
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Hooper!" she gushed, when I handed her the signed copy. The other girls had gone off with the scrap of paper I had given them, leaving Melissa with me.
"You're quite welcome, Melissa," I smiled, then took a flyer, "You're not really one of that group, are you?"
"Well, no, not really," she answered. "Candy, the blonde girl, is my roommate, and she kind of looks out for me, but I don't really fit in. They're all business majors, and I'm studying Environmental Science."
"I thought so," I smiled. "You'd better go join them before they start thinking you're weird for hanging out with the old guy."
She shrugged her slender shoulders. "They already think I'm weird. Would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions about your book?"
"Of course not," I pushed another chair away from the table to give her room. "I don't mind talking about my work, but I'd much rather talk about you."
She blushed. I didn't know there were still girls who could blush, but she did, for the second time.
.... There is more of this story ...