Chapter 3

Joey was not alone in his feelings of frustration. Alice had, once again, spent the evening as chaperon to a carbon copy of the school dance Joey had attended, a cross-town event. How frustrating it had been to watch all the young lovers dancing, surreptitiously touching. As she did, she couldn't shake the image of Joey, asleep on her couch, his hard-on bulging through his thin shorts. It had acted as no previous event in her life, and much to her shame, she'd found herself giving in to a temptation that hadn't really bothered her in the two years since the brief and bitterly disappointing though quite productive fling with Elizabeth's father. "Once burned, twice shy," she reminded herself. After that, she'd lived a celibate life, vividly imagining the sex she desired but feared and bringing herself her own relief.

For a long while, her fantasy love life was enough. She loved playing out her fantasies, loved the sensuous touch of her silk lingerie, loved parading nearly naked through her back yard. It turned her on the think someone might be watching, and the languid warm feelings she felt between her legs once she was oiled and lying in the sun were as good as any lover's touch she'd ever had.

Until Joey. Now she couldn't stop thinking about him, about his shy good looks, his muscled chest, his hard, flat stomach and the hard thing proudly standing below. How it had jerked and jumped while she danced for him!

"But I must not dwell on that," she reminded herself as she approached the house. It was bad enough that it had happened, but a recurrence would be unforgivable. He was no different from any of her own students, she reminded herself, and it was therefore no more right for her to take advantage of him than it would have been to take advantage of one of them. Still, it had seemed so different, almost magical, almost a fantasy turned real, and now that she'd tasted it, she knew it would be hard to find satisfaction elsewhere.

She opened the door and found the baby-sitter asleep. Unlike before, however, this baby-sitter -- a junior high school girl who lived across the street -- aroused no interest in Alice. She paid the young girl and bid her goodnight as she closed and locked the door. She then made her way back to her bedroom.

Rather than putting on the overhead light, she entered the dark room and walked toward the bed, intending to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. The curtains were open, and she was surprised to see a light in the trees of the house in back. Joey's house. She put off turning on the light for a moment and peered intently out of the window. There seemed to be a light coming from a black mass she'd never noticed in the little pine tree forest behind the wall that separated the houses. She could make out the shape of a tree house, silhouetted against the street lights on the corner.

What could it mean? She could think of only one thing: Joey must have built himself a tree house, and he was there, in it at this very moment.

A moment's reflection brought the blood to her face with a sudden suspicion: could Joey have been spying on her from there? Could he have been watching her private afternoons? She had always liked thinking she might be putting on a show for someone, but now that she discovered evidence that the fantasy might actually have been real, she didn't know what to think. In some ways, she felt her privacy and trust had been violated. On the other hand, hadn't that very thought -- the image of a man watching her stretch and swim and rub oil all over her body and touch herself -- hadn't that very image been a big part of the excitement that led to her having steamy orgasms in the blazing sun? And had Joey been doing anything she wouldn't have done herself? Or if she, personally, hadn't been tempted, could she truly expect any man (she could not make herself think of him as just a boy) to have done any differently?

Turning away from the window, she suddenly felt very foolish. "Probably just my imagination," she thought. "That light's probably always been there, a security light. I've just never noticed it before. And the trees are just thick. There's no proof that a tree house exists there."

She turned and peered at it again, this time convincing herself that she must be mistaken. How could she find out for sure?

Then she got an idea. If someone -- Joey -- were there, he'd have to turn off his light if he wanted to watch her. As soon as she turned her light on, he would be bound to notice. If the light went off, she could assume he was there. If not, she could write the whole episode down as further evidence she was living in her fantasies a little too often.

She left the room again and entered, this time turning on the overhead light as she often did. Suddenly the window became a mirror, and she couldn't see the light at all, couldn't even see if it had been extinguished. She walked back into her dressing room, leaving its light out, closed the door, and peered through the window. Sure enough, the light was now off. He must be watching, she thought. At first she was angry, but that soon passed as she realized what an opportunity she had.

Here was her captive audience.

She went back into the bedroom and began her show by going to the dresser and removing her necklace. She'd play it as if she were just undressing for bed and then got a little aroused. She removed the jacket to the suit she was wearing, leaving her in a sleeveless, almost transparent white blouse (which is why she had to keep the jacket on during the dance). Underneath she was wearing a lacy red bra. She loved how sexy it looked, how brazen it made her feel. Watching herself in the mirror, she began touching her breasts, weighing them in each hand, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back. At first she was only acting aroused, but soon she felt it.

She walked around her bed and sat facing the window. She lifted one leg, causing her skirt to fly up and reveal her red, French cut panties.

She carefully undid the strap of the shoe, making sure to take her time and reveal her long legs, red stockings and the growing wet spot in the middle of her panties. She stroked herself lightly, as if forgetting the shoe. Finally, she removed it and repeated the ritual with the other. Once finished, she slipped her thumbs through the waist band of her panties and began slipping them off, lying back and curling her legs back towards her chest so she could pull off the underwear. She then let her right leg dangle to the floor, keeping her left heel up on the bed and thus revealing everything. She could imagine him watching, his hard cock in his hand, her panties wrapped around it. She left the panties suspended from her left ankle and began touching herself.

Joey was watching indeed, watching with amazement and even greater pain.

He'd entered his tree house with the intentions of relieving his frustrations by wrapping Jackie's panties around his cock and reliving the evening, this time with his own climax mixed in. He'd spent a few moments spreading out his sleeping bag and getting undressed. Then he'd placed the still damp panties to his nose to smell, noticing that though the musk smell was arousing, it didn't fill him with the kind of excitement he'd felt while sharing the smell of Alice's panties with her. He couldn't help wondering whether she was still up, so he retrieved his binoculars and looked across the fence to see if her house was lighted. It was dark at the back, but he imagined he could see lights in the front part of the house, meaning that she was probably still awake. He wanted relief -- he was suffering an agonizing case of blue balls -- but he couldn't help but hope he'd see her return home and undress for bed. He'd just about given up on that possibility when suddenly he saw the light come on, saw her enter her bedroom, saw her begin preparing for bed and then becoming aroused. At first he just watched, but when she began touching herself, he began touching himself.

He had himself nearly to the point of orgasm when she suddenly got up and disappeared.

What now? Had she come? If so, it had been without the usual muscle spasms. No, here she was again, now laying out her bed clothes, a baby doll outfit consisting of a pastel pink translucent teddy and tiny matching panties. She disappeared for a moment and then returned, now swaying as if to music. She again was dancing for him, teasing him, slowly pulling off her blouse, toying with the straps of her brassiere, finally letting it fall in front of her. She began caressing her breasts, weighing them in her hand, slowly pulling at her nipples. Now she was bending down to retrieve the red bra, showing him her ass and the furry womb beneath. He could stand no more teasing, so he pulled his pants back up and quietly left his tree house, jumped the wall and made his way barefoot to her front door. Why should they settle for masturbation when they could be together?

He had to ring the bell three times before he could hear her moving through the house towards the front door. First the light came one, and he could feel her looking at him through the peephole. He smiled, feeling himself blush and half wishing he hadn't come over so impulsively. She made him wait another long three minutes before she opened the door. When she did, he could see she'd pulled on a long, silky sheer pink robe, transparent enough that he could see she'd pulled the teddy on before coming to the door.

"What do you want?" she asked, as if she hadn't just been wanting him. Hadn't she been teasing him on purpose? He didn't know what to say, but he knew he had to get in, had to touch her, had to have relief.

"I was hoping we could talk."