Chapter 1

As I walked past, an image was framed inadvertently. The darkness outside provided a matte around a rectangular scene built by the glow from inside the window.

The not-so-very-bright illumination revealed the the torso of a young woman. As the obviously portable light source was moved, the outline became a solid shape, the svelte silhouette became three dimensional.

Arms stretched up beyond the top of the window; thin limbs hoisted on nice t-shirted shoulders. The black shirt flowed down over breasts that were pulled taut by the lifted shoulders, and held firm by a practical bra, the outline of which was visible through the tight shirt.

The cotton stopped well above a small, pale dimpled belly, puckered momentarily by a navel, visible just then in the shifting light. Just under the navel was the waistband of a very short denim skirt. The one that she said she never wore outside the house, because it was indecent. The skirt was just long enough to cover the very top of the skimpy, lacy, and incongruously pink panties, stretched tight across a mound that I'd been told, more than once, was as hairless as the aforementioned pucker. I'd never have thought this girl would wear lace, much less pink.

The panties were deliciously perched on two regulation legs, firm and again pale, stretched as though Amy were attempting to reach something high. Her body was standing on the tips of her bare toes, the tension dynamic but still enough to etch and image in my mind.

I stood for a moment and watched before continuing past the sight to bang on the door. I heard a commotion inside and then Lisa opened it up. She said nothing to me, but turned back to Amy with the torch in her hand.

"It's Scott, Ames."

"Oh, that's alright then. Let him in and shut the door."

"You sure?"

"Oh, come on. He'll be fine. Scott, you won't look, will you?"

I poked my head through the doorway, and looked around to the right. Kitchen table, coffee table, chair, stool. Stacked one on top of the other, with Amy at the very top. The arms were relaxed now, the shoulders lowered. The skirt had been almost successfully smoothed into place, though I don't think it would have been possible to not see something from this angle. Amy held a lightbulb in her right hand, and suddenly the whole thing made sense. "I'm not willing to promise anything Amy, and in any case, you already showed half the neighbourhood."

"I did? How? Oh, shit. The drapes. Lisa, the drapes. God, what could you see?"

"Pink."

"Pink? My pink?"

"No, no. Your panties, silly."

"Oh, yeah. Never mind then."

"Strange girl."

"Strange boy. Hey, careful with that light, Lise. I'll fall off. Let Scott hold it."

Lisa, as usual, said nothing. I'd never managed to figure it out, but she seldom spoke to me, just the same. "Yeah, come on Lisa. Give it here. Or should I do the drapes?" Again, nothing, but she handed me the torch. I couldn't resist it, and shone the light up Amy's skirt.

She pretended to be horrified, and pushed her hands down her front, completely oblivious to the view of her backside from here. Lisa turned and grinned at me, a conspirator in the silence, and turned to pull the curtains shut.

"Okay, I've figured it out. You're trying to change the lightbulb, right?"

"Huh? No, no. Amy forgot about her skirt and held out the bulb. "Well, yes, but I wanted to clean up there as well."

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why don't you just leave it?"

"Because it's dirty, of course."

"Is there something in your lease that requires you to do that?'

"Of course not, Scott. Well, I don't think so."

"See?"

"Boys. Listen... Sarah's not here."

"No? Oh, she wanted me to meet her. She phoned. You sure?"

"Well, I've got a good view from up here, and I can't see her."

"I've got a better view from here, remember." And I shone the torch up her legs again. This time she took a different approach, and lifted the front of her skirt, wiggled her ass, and poked her tongue out at me.

"You don't scare me, Scott Mackie. You're a fraidy-cat."

"Am not. What makes you say that?"

"Well, if you weren't, you'd be offering to help, instead of perving at my nice legs."

Lisa giggled this time, and watched to see if I'd respond. I didn't say anything though, instead handing Lisa the torch, and climbing up on the table.

"Oh, you going to help? Cool. Look, I need to reach up to there."

I looked up then, past the panties, the belly, breasts, and even the cute smile, and further up at the ceiling. It was a long way up. "How can I help?"

"Well, you could do it for me."

"How close did you get, Amy?"

"Oh, maybe a foot or so."

"Well then, I couldn't reach either. That's dangerous, by the way, quite apart from the neighbourhood display of your smalls."

"I'm alright up here."

"You're not. You'll hurt yourself. Look, what if you climb down from there, and we have another think?"

"Well, we could... you think we could both stand on the chair, Scott?"

"What, with the stool?"

"No, no. We'll... hold on." She climbed down one level from the stool to the chair, and handed the stool down to Lisa. "On here like this. Yes?"