It was the coquettish way she delighted in the effect she had on me that let me know she was trouble. At least I should have known.
The fact that the others didn’t seem to notice didn’t make the power she held any less real. I had never seen so much self-confidence in a woman of any age. Her name was Lynette Roberts, her smile was nuclear and she had a firm handshake. She said she preferred “Nettie”.
With her older sister fresh off to college orientation the new setting excited Lynette. This was to be her territory. She would be forced for the first time to make friends on her own. She said she was looking forward to school but the start was still two weeks off. With my wife and both her parents working, the sanctuary of my home office from which I was a remote computer troubleshooter was about to be violated. This young woman would soon be testing the power of her emerging sexuality on me. It was a power that I’m sure would have been too great for any man. I ask you, does a woman’s beauty get any better than when they first grow into their bodies?
On Monday morning I answered my front doorbell to her standing on my doorstep wearing a gauzy cover over a red string bikini. She was holding her laptop open in front of me saying it was “acting all screwy, you’re a computer guy, right?” I sat on the couch with it on my lap. She sat next to me watching. After a restart it was sluggish and erratic. I adjusted some memory permissions with a few easy keystrokes and while waiting for the second restart, asked her age.
With a solar smile she tucked her legs beneath her and said cheerfully, “I’ll be seventeen next March!” I don’t know if I actually let out a groan but she read my disappointment either way. “But I am VERY mature for my age.”
That she was very mature was something of an understatement. I wondered if perhaps she had to be of legal adult age to be a Victoria’s Secret model, because there could be no other explanation for her not parading semi-nude in TV ads already. In either case her parents leaving her home alone and unattended was negligence on a grand scale.
Fortunately her laptop pinged back to life zippy as new. When all appeared fine I ushered her back out the front door. I didn’t want to be alone with her for even a minute longer. I am married and true to my wife, not for any great strength at resisting temptation but for a solid strategy of removing myself from temptation.
An hour later my phone rang. “Hello, Mr. Johnson?” Lynette intoned.
“Yes?”
“Would you mind if I tap into your wireless? The pool is ready, but the internet installer isn’t scheduled until Thursday and I’m so bored. I can see your network but I need access.”
“Where are you?’
“I’m out at the pool.”
I pivoted away from my desk and leaned back in my chair to look out the window onto the Roberts backyard pool. She waved to me from her recliner holding the phone to her ear, one leg bent to pinch her laptop in place on her lap.
“I want to chat with friends back home.” She said.
“Enolagay1945”
“What?”
“The password is: e.n.o.l.a.g.a.y.1.9.4.5.”
“OK, got it thanks.”
“OK, Bye.”
“Mr. Johnson?”
“What?”
“You can come for a swim any time you want.”
“And you can call me Mark,” I said.
“Oh that’s OK, I prefer Mr. Johnson.” She said with a little giggle in her voice.
“OK, whatever.” I said and hung up. I couldn’t help taking an occasional peak out the window to marvel at her perfection. I found my binoculars. Between calls during the rest of the day and most of the next I would peer through them at her bikini clad figure from the safety of my office. I watched her lift and straighten her legs to apply sunscreen and run her hands beneath her bikini top to rub some into her breasts. My infatuation with her beauty grew. Through my binoculars the small beaded perspiration on her oiled skin looked like a crystal coating in the sun, as if she had been dipped in a strong sugar solution.
At one point on Tuesday afternoon with her chair turned toward the sun and her back to me she was chatting on her laptop. I could see through the binoculars that she was talking to a boy on webcam. A handsome looking boy with a bare torso was plainly visible on the screen. Suddenly she sat up and removed her bikini top. When she lifted her breasts in her hands I could see the tops of them and the gumdrops of her nipples. The boy on her screen was laughing and silently blowing whistles with his fingers in the corners of his mouth.
Eventually she positioned her laptop near the foot of the recliner. I couldn’t really see what she was doing but I had a good idea that the young man in the computer screen was getting to see glimpses of her dipping her fingers in her vagina as she pulled her suit to the side. After a while I could see him through my binoculars on the screen exposing his cock and stroking it for her to see.
I became excited by the scene, the image of her having remote online sex with this boy from her hometown or wherever was too much. I had to open my pants to give my swelling cock more room. I reached in, withdrew it and began to stroke it. It was impossibly hard. I leaned back in my chair and before long I jerked myself off onto my stomach while picturing her crystalline body in the sun with her breasts straining against the bikini top. I pulled my t-shirt up out of the way just in time to keep it clean.
After wiping myself off with some tissues from the box on my desk, I lifted the binoculars and peered out the window again to look at my lovely next-door creature. Her pool chair was empty, holding only her laptop and towel. I scanned around and found her climbing out of the pool looking right at me! I ducked back away from the window lowering the binoculars. She was radiating a big grin my way as she walked to her chair and picked up the towel.
I sank back into my chair and turned toward my computer screen. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. Did she see me with the binoculars? My face was flush and hot with embarrassment. “I have GOT to be more careful,” I scolded myself. My house phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Johnson, were you spying on me?”
“Er…What?”
“With those binoculars? Were you spying on me?”
“Well… yes…I guess I was. You really are quite beautiful, you know.”
“There’s no reason for you to sit up there in your office and spy on me when I said you can come down for a swim anytime. That binocular thing is kind of creepy, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I guess it is,” I admitted sullenly. “I promise I won’t use them again, but I have work I should be doing and I am on call.”
“Suit yourself.” She hung up the phone. I didn’t dare even a quick look out the window.
God knows I wanted to join her at the pool. I wanted to bask in the radiance of her smile, bathe in the sparkle of her countenance. Just the thought of being so close to her, close enough to smell the oil on the delicate skin of her thighs, her stomach and the tops of those luscious breasts, was making me weak.
“You probably should go down there, “ I said to myself aloud, “You’re not getting any work done anyway. What is it your afraid of?” I knew the answer of course, I was afraid of my own desires, I was afraid of upsetting the apple cart of my life. Resolved, I did not go to the pool. I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to rid a corporate clients computer of malware thinking at times that Lynette was like malware to my heart.
The following morning it was raining, really pouring rain. There was no thought of her sunbathing and I was relieved. Still nagging at me was the fact that she might be next door shut up in her bedroom with her laptop having web sex with a boy back home. I wondered if the signal from our wireless router was strong enough to give her access through the walls of both houses. I wondered if she was naked. I pictured her masturbating on her bed in front of her webcam. My cock swelled at the thought. I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes and pictured her long legs sprawled out on her bed, bent up on either side of her laptop as she excitedly chatted with her friends…kids her own age, not a man 12 years older.
My hand had found it’s way to my groin, squeezing my plumping penis through my light shorts. Her smile, so incredibly radiant, led the way as my mind rebuilt each aspect of her image in my head. By the time I fully conjured the tanned latte skin of her upper arms, shoulders and tops of her breasts, oh those breasts…my house phone was ringing.
“Hello, Mr. Johnson?
“Yes, Lynette?”
“Please Mr. Johnson, call me Nettie…”
“OK, Nettie.”
“Our houses are too far apart, and the signal is too weak to make it through the walls. Can I bring my computer over to your house to get on the web? Please…”
“Well, I er…I have…OK." I said and hung up the phone.
When I opened the door she was collapsing her umbrella. When she looked up the innocence of her smile almost neutralized the effect of her tanned body in her white Lycra halter and boy shorts. Still, the bumps of her nipples pushing the fabric looked anything but innocent. “I’m supposed to be unpacking boxes but it’s boring and it’s all we’ve been doing in the evenings. I won’t be a bother, I’ll just stay down stairs. You won’t even know I’m here, I promise,” she said as she plopped down onto my living room couch and opened her laptop.
Staying with me long after climbing the stairs to my office was the image of her on the couch, her long legs sprawling out from her boy shorts in a way that was both ungainly and graceful at the same time.
For the next few hours I could hear her animating her chat session with small reactive sounds of glee or mock moans of displeasure. It was a pleasant sound, one I found comforting at first the way sitting in the shade next to a bubbling brook while listening to birds might be comforting. Lynette cooing and giggling so unselfconsciously sounded as buoyant and beautiful as she looked. Before long however, my mind was set awhirl with a torrent of images. The graphic visuals of her possible online activities downstairs grew more and more vivid and extreme in my imagination. For me, working remotely on far away computers to clear up problems and conflicts for clients was harder than ever that morning.
With a sudden, “Goodbye Mr. Johnson, and thanks,” my tormentor was gone, closing the front door behind her just as I was thinking of offering to make us both sandwiches. I felt saved by the bell.
I wasn’t any safer the next morning. The rain had stopped and the clouds were breaking up but strong winds made sunbathing unlikely. Since I knew it would be another day before their internet was installed so I half expected the call that came just before nine.
“Mr. Johnson?”
“Yes Lynette.”
“Can I…”
“Yes, I left the front door open for you.” I said, prepared not to have to see her at all.
“Thanks, Mr.
