0 comments/ 113787 views/ 3 favorites High Rise By: Honey Dipped The office building rises eleven stories, towering over its nearest neighbors in the lushly landscaped business park on the outskirts of Atlanta, the Emerald City. In the bright midday sun its burnished copper-clad trim and copper-tinted windows make it shine like a golden tower. In many ways it is golden, reflecting as it does the wealth and power of those who occupy it. In the most prestigious office on the eighth floor, a handsome and powerfully built black man sits, turned away from his desk toward his windows, holding a phone conversation. The windows provide a clear view of the verdant greenery, the river nearby, and a parking lot filled with sleek, expensive, late-model automobiles. He enjoys what he sees to the utmost! His manner of dress bespeaks his success. His blue dress shirt, with fashionable white collar, stretches across a deep, hard chest and over broad strong shoulders. His Armani tie coordinates perfectly with his light brown designer suit, belt, and shoes. He also wears the preferred accessory of power for a man in his position …a pretty white woman on the end of his cock! His shorts and slacks straddle his ankles. While his right hand cradles a phone, his left is busy elsewhere. His long dark fingers grip her left buttock, while his thumb, inserted deeply in her ass, moves her at his whim. As he coolly discusses details of a business transaction, she cries softly at her humiliation and moans quietly in the ecstasy that it, and the long thick cock within her, brings. As he listens to the person on the phone he smiles at the sight before him. She wears a black dress and heels, only now her dress is pushed up to mid-back, her dainty black panties around one ankle. Her pale, firm ass is in startling contrast to her clothing and her dark brown hair, as is her fresh pink cunt in contrast to his penis, as it glides slowly up and down his thick dark shaft. The sight of her white pussy gripping his slick, wet, black cock excites him further! His conversation ends and he places the phone back in its cradle. His right hand, palm forward, strikes her ass. She cries out! Hmmm, it felt like she gripped him a little harder. He strikes her ass again, and then again. Her cries are to his fevered lust as gasoline is to a campfire. His office door opens, then closes discreetly as an attractive young black woman enters. The dark-haired white woman turns her head to look at her as she approaches. A touch of embarrassment shows momentarily in her lust-glazed eyes. Another sharp slap to her reddening ass. "Keep moving!" She quickly fucks back onto the cock that fills her hot wet hole so completely. The young black woman is forgotten. "Mr. Williamson, the Optizon people are here." "Take them to the Gwinnett conference room and get them drinks. I'll be there in five minutes." "Very good, Mr. Williamson." She turns and leaves as quietly as she entered. As she closes the door behind her, the sound of a big hand on soft yielding flesh once more reaches her. "On your knees!" he barks. She sinks to the floor in front of him and feels him kneel behind her. His long cock never leaves her pussy. Both of his hands now grasp her hips. He plunges in deeply, and hard. As he fucks her she gradually slides forward until her face is pressed against the floor-to-ceiling window. He pounds into her, growling and snarling. His noises drown her own groans and cries, but not the slap of their flesh. She feels him throbbing. She already has had one orgasm, while he was on the phone. As he throbs another barrels through her body. She is soo near! She feels his first spurt, and as the thick warmth surges into her, her own climax slams into her. She begs him to fuck her on and on. After a few moments he retreats back to his chair, still breathing hard. Slowly she turns. "Ohhh," is all she can say. Her head rests for a moment against his muscular thigh. They look at each other for a second. He nods toward his semi-erect cock. She takes him in her mouth and bathes him. Later that same afternoon he places a call. "Hello?" "Trevor, she was great." "Freddy? Yeah, man she is." "How do you get her to do these things for you, my man?" "Hey, she's my bitch, man! Usually I don't give her up to others, but she got sassy with me this morning. I had to remind her of her…commitment. So I called you, and the rest is history, as they say." "Did she tell you what we did?" "I insisted on every detail. As a matter of fact we recreated the scene. She's just now licking me off." "You are the Man!" "She isn't your ordinary slut, Freddy. She'll only do this for me. You got lucky today!" "Hey, how about tomorrow? I'll take the afternoon off. I can give her a real reminder!" "Can't do it, man. She told me she's learned her lesson. She'll be real good now." "Well, she's fucking hot as hell! Keep your cock in that one, Trevor." "I plan on it. Later, man." High-Rise I cinched the soft restraint around Jack's right ankle. He was stretched out, spread eagled, in four-point restraints. The soft morning light passed through the shear drapes casting soft shadows across the king sized bed and highlighted my bound lover's body lying on the contrasting dark sheets. My hand was still on Jack's ankle as I looked up and admired my handy work. "Should I blindfold him as well?" I asked myself silently. "Not yet," I silently replied. I let my hands trace lightly up the skin of his inner calves and stop on thighs. I knelt between his legs, bent over his manhood and noticed how good he smelled. "New cologne Jack?" "Yes." I moved closer enjoying the dark spicy fragrance he had applied to his body. "Ummm, I approve. You smell delicious." I exhaled onto his semi-erect penis and scrotum. The caress of my breath induced his cock to twitch and roll off his churning balls onto his thigh. "I'm going take my bath now. Will you be OK for a few minutes?" I asked with a light chuckle. I blew lightly on his cock and balls again. Jack's hips moved slightly, lifting toward my face in response; his balls churned again; his cock twitched involuntarily. Jack didn't answer, of course he couldn't since I had not addressed him by his given name. He nodded his assent, obviously not happy about the prospect being left alone, tied to the bed. His hips lifted toward my lips begging silently for my touch. His cock was almost fully erect, its head swollen. I admired his cut penis. The light brown scar of his circumcision contrasted nicely with the creamy whiteness of the skin covering his shaft. The spongy swollen tube running along the undersurface of his shaft was casting a diffuse shadow over his lower abdomen. His cock head was clearly outlined by a deep velvety rose red band that separated the swollen glans from his stiffening shaft. "Your cock is beautiful," I whispered as I released his thighs and stood up. His eyes followed as I walked to the window and pulled the shear curtains back. Our floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall corner windows looked north over a small beautiful park and west across the city proper. An identical sister high-rise condo faced ours from across the park. Our unit was on the 25th of 36 floors. I stood with my legs slightly apart. I knew there was enough light passing through my lingerie that my body would be in silhouette. I wasn't wearing panties. I knew his eyes would be drawn to my crotch; he would see the outline of my plump shaved labia and crave the luscious lips he loved to lick and suck. I turned as I removed my top slowly, enjoying the friction of the soft fabric as it glided over my dark generous nipples, and exposed my breasts. I reached up and cupped the rounded undersurface of my left breast with my right hand, feeling its fullness and weight in my palm. I lightly pinched the dark soft tissue of my nipple. The stimulation caused my nipple to tighten and become erect. Jack watched silently and squirmed silently against his restraints. His cock twitched and pivoted up onto his abdomen pressing into his pile of pubic hair. His organ engorged, swelled, elongated and moved of its own volition. Smiling, I turned back toward the window pleased with the effect my simple actions had on him. I hooked my thumbs in the small elastic band of my shear bottoms, pushed and let them slither down my legs to the floor. Stepping out of them, I stood nude, exposed. Exquisite tension was steadily building between my legs. I sensed that special feeling of moisture accumulating between my labia as my excitement grew. Was it my control over Jack or was the nervous excitement I was experiencing due to my nude condition in front of our opened curtains? Yes and yes. I liked being in control. I liked the feeling of nakedness and exposure I was boldly exhibiting. Movement caught my eye. Someone was there across the way,;someone was watching. Drinking a cup of coffee? Has he seen me? I imagine his thoughts. 'Is she, could she be, is she really naked?' He bends to put the cup down and I see something dark in his hands heading toward his eyes. I walked to the bathroom and disappeared from his line of sight. Binoculars? Voyeur? My heartbeat quickened. My breathing quickened. Is this what I really wanted. My naked crotch tingled with mounting excitement induced by the reality of actually being observed by a total stranger. My whole body had become sensitized. Was our neighbor able to see Jack, his situation, his nakedness, his erection? It was very probable. This excited me more. Jack did not know, could not see what I saw. More control, more power. I steeled myself and walked back into to bedroom. My body tingled with anticipation. I felt the stranger's eyes flowing over my body. My crotch burned excitement. My nipples tingled, pointed, hard and erect on breasts that that ached with anticipation. I looked over at the bed. Poor Jack, his penis was small and flaccid. He had lost his erection with my short absence. It had become a limp piece of flesh nestled in his pubic hair. His balls hung between his widely separated legs. "Poor baby. Did I leave you alone too long?" "Uh huh, he grunts." I crawled up onto the bed presenting my bare bum to the window and my observer. My skin tingle at the thought of strange eyes viewing my form, my privacy and my intimate actions. I straddled Jack's upturned face, presented my plump pussy, held myself close to his face. Jack sniffed then inhaled deeply, smelling the pungent odor of my unwashed private area. His tongue reached out for and touched my labia. He slowly licked the full length of my pussy. The contact surprised me and sent shivers running through my body. "Hmmmm, Jack, I haven't washed yet." But I don't move. I allow him to bath my burning crotch with his hungry tongue. "How does my dirty pussy taste this morning?" "God you taste delicious. I want to devour you. I love how your pussy changes flavors from day to day," he growled as he manipulated one of my fat labia into his mouth with lips, sucking greedily at it, his tongue licking the inside surface. I turned and faced the window still straddling Jack's upturned face, presenting my breasts to the stranger, my new friend. My nipples and breasts aching even more intensely with the knowledge that his eyes are devouring my form even as Jack devours my pussy. Jack's limp piece of flesh swelled and grew in thickness and length. Jack surprised me again when his strong tongue pierced my cunt hole. A groan emanated from deep inside his chest, vibrating my clit as I felt his tongue delving deeply into my pussy. His thick tongue stretched my hole open as he forced it inside my body. He noisily licked and hungrily sucked my flowing juices. I reached down and touched his growing flesh, warm, heavy and large. The veins of his dick stood out darkly against the light skin of his engorging penis. I flicked up the dew that leaked from the hole at the tip of his swollen purple head with the tip of my finger, put it to my lips and tasted his salty flavor. Jack moaned again at the brief contact, the deep sound again vibrating my clit. He pulled his tongue from my dark slit and licked the groove between my labia. "Ummmmm," he moaned again sending more delicious shivers of vibration through my pearl. "Your cunt tastes so goddamned good." I bent over and caught his swollen glans between my lips, sucked it into my mouth and poked the tip of my tongue into its salty opening. I sucked and milked the clear syrup from the head of his swollen member. Then as punishment for his speaking out of turn, I squeezed his glans with my teeth, lightly biting the delicate flesh. He flinched but did not speak, realizing his error. His hips bucked against my face and mouth. I allowed his hard prick to slide deeply into my mouth. He groaned again as I allowed the tip of his cock to penetrate my throat. I could feel the ridge of his glans slide down my esophagus as I swallowed him. My breath was cut off by the invasion of the swollen flesh. He pumped his hard cock into my throat. I licked the base of his shaft and his balls as his swollen meat thrust deeply inside me. I wiggled my ass and pussy against his face, his tongue now applied directly to my buzzing clit, the pressure of a climax building, my pelvis became the focus of my concentration. Jack's nose brushed my pussy lips. I wiggled more and felt the tip of his nose between my labia. I thrust my hips against his face and his nose entered my pussy, fucking my pussy's tight hole. I forced my cunt against his face, enjoying the sensation of his nose enveloped by my pussy, stretching my sex channel open while he sucked at my clit. My orgasm took me, my scream muffled by the dick obstructing my throat. His hips thrusting, sliding his penis in and out of my throat as I screamed with pleasure. His cock slid out of my mouth as I sat up and firmly smothered his face with my wet crotch as his mouth continued to suck at my throbbing clit. I opened my eyes and saw my friend across the way watching, arms up, binoculars in place, not moving. I again bent over, took my lover's cock in my hand, held it up to its full length, and slowly took it back into my mouth with my eyes up intently staring at my friend with the binoculars. I took the whole length of Jack's swollen dick back into my throat and continued to unblinkingly gaze at my friend across the way. My lips were buried in Jack's bush, my lips pressed tightly against his pelvis. His hips began a slow thrust as he again fucked my throat. I kept my eyes directly on my friend as Jack's long cock slid in and out of my mouth, my lips stretched tightly around his shaft. Before Jack could orgasm, I pulled free, felt his hard flesh and the ridge of his swollen cock head slide out as it exited my throat. I pulled my crotch from Jack's smeared face, scooted down his body and straddled his waist. I pressed my wet pussy against his penis, the erect shaft poked up between my legs and nestled in the crack of my pussy lips. I looked at my friend across the park, knowing that Jack's dick now looked like my dick. I took Jack's dick in my hand and slowly masturbated the saliva slick rod. Jack's balls rode up and down between his legs with each stroke of my hand. I felt my breasts move and sway on my chest as I slowly masturbated the turgid flesh between my legs. Jack's breathing quickened. He moaned steadily with each stroke of my hand. I stopped and got on my knees, my dripping pussy poised over the swollen head of his rock hard cock. I lowered myself to his flesh. His swollen glans touched and split my labia, found my cunt entrance and stretched my waiting hole open. I let my cunt down onto his cock and slowly impaled myself on his rigid pole. As I fully enveloped his flesh with my flesh, his hips began an uncontrollable attack at my stretched pussy. He fucked my taught slit and screamed as his orgasm overcame him. I felt his ejaculatory contractions against my stretched pussy walls as they pumped his thick semen into my cunt's depths. Jack's thrusting subsided and stopped. The spasms of his twitching organ continued as his cock softened inside my body. I reached between my legs, cupped and pinched my labia together to hold Jack's cum inside my pussy as his shrinking penis slid from my vagina's hole. I walked to the window, sat on the floor and leaned back against an ottoman. I let my legs fall open and removed my hand from my pussy. I picked up the binoculars lying beside me and put them to my eyes. My friend did have binoculars. I could feel his eyes on my creamy pussy. I could feel Jack's thick jizz oozing out of my cunt hole, running down across my anus onto the floor. He put his binoculars down, turned and walked out of the room. I couldn't believe it. He was gone. I sat there stunned. "Shit," I exclaimed, disappointed. "What's wrong?" Jack asked innocently. "Shut the fuck up," I ordered. I had not spoken his name. I should punish him, but I didn't, except for the verbal outburst. "Humpf?" he mumbled back. Then I saw my friend re-enter the room across the way. I put the binoculars back to my eyes. He was unclothed, naked and very erect. His uncut penis was at stiff attention, standing upright. He pulled a chair around to face the window and me. He sat with his legs lazily apart, his nuts hanging loosely against the seat of the chair. He took his cock and gripped it in his right hand. It was long enough that he could have placed his left hand around the remaining exposed shaft and the tip of his cock would have still been visible. His right hand slid up the shaft, enveloped the sheathed head of his cock, pulled down and his glans appeared from under his foreskin. It was beautiful. He slowly masturbated his thick penis, the foreskin sliding on and off that beautiful cock head. His ball sack tightened, his balls pulled tight against the base of his thick veined shaft. His rhythm quickened. Suddenly he pointed his shaft at the window and rope after stringy rope of thick semen shot out against the window streaking it with opalescent liquid. "Jesus," I whispered. As his ejaculation ended, his cock continued to leak thick gobs of sperm that ran down his shaft and covered his balls. I looked at his face. His eyes burned into mine. He stared intently at me as I had at him. He smiled, then stood and walked from the room. "What the fuck just happened?" I looked at Jack, then back out the window wanting desperately to see my friend once more. Wanting him to see me. My new friend was gone. I didn't answer Jack. I just smiled to myself, went into the bathroom and took my bath. High Rise The best stories are the true ones. ***** Each morning I leave my apartment and walk to work. "Walk" isn't really a good description - it is more like I run an obstacle course. The sidewalk is packed with jostling pedestrians, blaring taxis push aggressively through crosswalks, sirens wail constantly, and the ground itself shakes when the subways pass underfoot. To make it more of a challenge, everything costs a fortune. It costs about $20 just to sit down in a diner someplace and have a cheeseburger. That's why, even with New York's glamor and excitement at my doorstep, I usually retreat at the end of the day - I need a break. I work crazy hours, and the idea of coming home to a small, cozy apartment is very appealing. So most nights during the week - when I'm not traveling on business - I come back to my place. I pirouette through the revolving door in my building and enter another world - quiet and clean. I exchange greetings with the doorman, stop at the wall of small mailboxes for my catalogs and bills, and then head up to my apartment on the 20th floor. I peel off my necktie, shrug out of my suit jacket, and then sit at the table with a drink - or, more often, on the couch with my feet up. The skyline is lit up outside my windows like a postcard, majestic and glowing, and I run through the mail, sip my wine, watch the news on the DVR, and eat some take out - all very old-school, I know, but it works for me, a small private space where I can be myself, far above the chaos. I was sitting on the couch one night last week after work, going through the mail (junk mail in one pile, bills in another) when I came across a red envelope that must have contained a card - one of those Hallmark kind of things. When I opened it I saw that the card had a single red rose on the cover. Printed inside were the words "I'm sorry." Handwritten beneath was "I know I shouldn't be doing this, but I can't stop." Inside the card was some kind of symbol - a handwritten grid - a long vertical rectangle, with a waffle-like grid on it. There was no signature on the card, no return address on the envelope. Nothing. Who was sorry? For what? I kept looking at the envelope, as if I by staring long enough I could force a return address to emerge. I didn't know whether to be intrigued or freaked out, but after a second glass of wine I decided to stop worrying about it. Whoever it was, whatever they did - well, it was nice of them to apologize. I put the card on and by the end of the week threw it in a pile with some other stuff for the cleaning lady to take care of. The next one arrived about four days later. This one had a big kiss on the cover, bright red lips, definitely feminine. There was the same grid printed inside, the tall vertical rectangle with a waffle-like pattern, but this time one of the squares in the grid was colored, bright red. The message was different, too - it said: "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't - but it looked like you needed another card to replace the other one." Unlike the first card, which seemed kind of fun and whimsical - this was starting to make me uncomfortable. "I needed another card?" What did that mean? My first thought was that I was being watched...how would the sender know that I needed another card? Or, maybe this was from the cleaning lady - maybe she broke something that I hadn't noticed? New York can be fun...but there are definitely some disturbed people in this town. I was distracted the next couple of days. Was this some kind of threat? What about the "I'm sorry"? I still didn't know who was sorry, and for what. I found myself watching people on the sidewalk more closely, but with the crowds it was impossible to find a pattern or pick out individuals. With each passing day it all receded little by little. I had just about put it out of my mind when the next card arrived. The message was simple. "I want to apologize to you. Can you Skype with me Friday night?" There was a Skype address written on the card, along with Friday's date, and a time - 10pm. Usually I'm crawling into bed around ten, even though sometimes I stay up for a while and read or surf on my tablet - but this was a call I wanted to take. Sleep could wait - in fact, I thought, I'd probably toss and turn all night if I didn't take this call. I got home around eight on Friday and ran through my usual routine: I hung up my suit and pulled on a bathrobe, had a bite to eat, sorted through the mail and watched the evening news, but I felt a bit jumpy and kept looking at the clock on the cable box to check the time. About 9:45 I sat down at my desk, logged in, and dialed up the Skype account I had been given. My call was connected instantly, and I could see someone sitting at a computer just like me, in a t-shirt. Though I couldn't see her face fully - just her chin and mouth - I could tell it was a woman. "You're early" she said. "Nothing good on TV?" I tried to play it cool. "I didn't want to miss you. I've been intrigued." "Ah, yes, I can understand that. I've been intrigued by you, too." I waited for her to say more. "I feel like I know you" she said. "And why is that? I asked. "Because I've been watching you for a month now. Almost every night. Except those couple of nights you didn't come home in the middle of the month. Hot date?" I felt my stomach flop once or twice. Watching me? My first suspicions had been correct - I was being stalked! I felt my face flush, my palms grow sweaty, and tried to stay focused. "No, no, I was on a business trip." "Yes, I thought that might be the case." I glanced out the windows quickly, a nervous turn of the head. Was I being watched now? "Where are you?" I asked. "Two blocks north of you. Do you have the last card? The grid? I colored in my window." I picked up the card, held it up against the skyline...and counted the streets far below. One, two...there, there was her building! And then the grid...now it was clear...these little blocks in the grid on the card were meant to be windows...I counted...two in from the side...six down...and now I could make it out, just barely. The window opened into a room, lit by the soft glow of a lamp on a desk and a computer monitor, and I could make out the shape of someone sitting at the desk. My heart slowed down a bit - at least I "knew" who this person was, but I still had a lot of questions. "So you've been watching me for a month now? How did you find out who I was and which apartment I was in?" "It wasn't that hard" she said. "The floor plan to your building is online for prospective renters. I counted windows, and then stopped by to tell the doorman I had a card for you - in apartment 20D - but that I wasn't sure how to spell your name right. He said he'd take care of it for me. I still don't know your name - he wouldn't give it to me, he just said that he'd write it down." I exhaled slowly. She didn't know who I was, and I wasn't exactly being stalked. "So you've been watching me? That's probably a good cure for insomnia - I'm pretty boring and predictable." "Predictable, yes. Boring, well, usually, but not always. Like, not last night, for example." I started to think about last night. Not boring? I came home...watched the news...opened the mail...had a glass of wine...turned in early with a book and my ipad...and...oh yeah, that's right...I masturbated as I surfed the web, before I fell asleep. I felt my face growing red again. I moved into this apartment ten years ago, when the neighborhood was full of office buildings and small businesses. By seven pm it would be a ghost town, and over time I got sloppy with my blinds. I'd become accustomed to leaving them up to see the skyline, watch a storm come in, catch a sunset during the summer, a habit I never changed even as the neighborhood did change and the offices were converted one-by-one to apartments and condos. So yeah, last night I was on my bed...with a book...and my iPad...and she had watched the whole thing. I wasn't quite sure what to say to her. "I see. How long did you say you've been watching me?" "For about a month. I moved in at the end of March, and it took them more than a week to get my cable and internet hooked up, so I started looking out my window to pass the time. It seemed wrong and a bit nosy, but I've never lived in a high-rise before, and I've been fascinated by all the windows and people...and curious. Most of it is pretty boring - people sit in front of flickering televisions all night long, play on their computer, or talk on the phone. Then one night I saw you in bed...I know it seemed wrong, but I couldn't stop watching once I realized what you were doing. And if you want to know something that's really bad...I even ordered a small pair of binoculars to see you better." She'd been watching me with BINOCULARS?! She went on. "I know it is wrong... I feel like I've violated your privacy - but, and here's the hard part for me to admit - I can't stop looking, even though I know this is wrong. So I was thinking, if I met you in person I'd be humiliated, almost like a punishment for spying on you, and I'd get to know you as a person, just for a few minutes, and that would keep me from looking in your windows again." Meeting her? Now that I was talking to her she didn't actually sound crazy, I had to admit, and what she described was pretty natural. New Yorkers are always renting apartments and moving, and most can't be bothered - or care enough - to put up blinds, or curtains. It is kind of natural at night to look out our windows now and then, the whole city spread out, and just take it all in - not really peeking in windows, but just looking. No, she didn't sound psycho - and everything she said made sense. In fact, she sounded kind of embarrassed by the whole thing. "So I'd like to make it up to you" she said, "and buy you a drink. You know the pub on the corner of Broadway and Reade? It's halfway between your place and mine. Say 5pm tomorrow - there won't be much of a crowd at that hour on the weekend. Please?" There was something in her voice which almost sounded desperate - and I believed her, that she needed to do this for some reason - I don't know, to bury her compulsion? I thought about it a minute, and thought - really, a drink, at 5pm in the afternoon in the neighborhood pub? Seemed like that proverbial well-lit public place you should meet people for the first time. Totally harmless. "Sure" I said, "see you there." We clicked off the video feed and I went into the bedroom to get undressed and lay down - but now I was acutely aware that the blinds were open. I could close them, I thought - but she might think that rude. I decided to leave them open but to keep the lights off, so it would be hard to see much of anything. That night I had crazy dreams that kept waking me up, and every time I woke up I looked out the window towards her building. The next day I ran my usual errands, the dry cleaner, the grocery store, and as I ran around I kept thinking about meeting her. Now that I was getting over the part about being stalked, I did feel kind of irritated - the mystery cards in the mail, the fact that it had gone on for a month. I decided that I wouldn't let her play me tonight. She could say her bit and we'd return to being strangers in a city of eight million people. Oh yeah, and note to self, I thought: buy some damn curtains! I intentionally arrived at the pub early to get situated. Pretty much as I had expected the place was empty. I took a booth in the back and sat down and ordered a glass of wine. She walked in right at five, on the dot. She was wearing a white blouse with a jacket and a skirt, stockings and sensible shoes. As she stood in the doorway, her eyes adjusting to the gloom of the bar, I looked at her closely. I hadn't been too sure what to expect, but this wasn't it. She was about five seven, and probably in her mid forties, with long red hair. She was broad shouldered - I guess that would be the way to put it, or maybe "big boned" would be the phrase - and looked a bit plain, especially dressed that way, and a little on the heavy side. She looked around as her eyes adjusted, saw me in the corner, and came over to my table. "May I join you?" she asked. I gestured with an open hand, inviting her to sit. I looked at her as she sat on the bench across from me in the booth. "I don't even know your name. I'm George" I said. "Nice to meet you, George. I'm Casey." I pointed to my glass of wine. "Sorry, but I didn't wait to get started. Can I get you a drink?" She nodded her head quickly up and down. "I'd love a Cosmo." It was hard to tell, but I thought I heard a bit of an accent in her voice. The waiter came over, took her drink order, and returned to the bar. We made idle chit-chat while he shook her drink, the ice clattering loudly in the empty bar. When her drink arrived I raised my glass, but still didn't know exactly what to say, so I kept it basic. "Cheers." She raised her glass, clinked it against mine, and took a large gulp. By the second round of drinks I had learned that she was from Ireland, worked for a company based in Dublin, and had moved to New York to take a job in a branch office. Installation of her cable television and internet wasn't the only thing that had gone badly - in fact, nothing had gone right with her move. Her furniture was on a ship and was a month late in arriving. She said she felt like she was back in college living in a dorm. I told her my own stories of moving to New York - it can be a nightmare finding an apartment, not getting ripped off by building superintendents and moving companies, and I had made some pretty silly mistakes when I moved here. By the time we finished the second round of drinks we were both deep into trading tales of misfortune related to moving to new cities. The bar was starting to fill up and was getting loud. There was a basketball game on the television and a lot of cheering and yelling, and it was hard to be heard, even in a booth in the back. It seemed as if it was time to move on, and I think she sensed it too. She looked at me. "You've been so nice and understanding about this - I mean, having some unknown woman tell you she was peeping in your windows is pretty strange." "Yeah, well, this is New York. Nothing surprises me anymore." "I still feel like I did something really wrong. Maybe it is the Irish Catholic guilt thing. I bought you a bottle of Irish Whiskey - the kind you like." She took a lovely wrapped bottle from her bag. "How did you know I like that?" We both realized it at the same time and blurted out our versions of the same line: "Because you were watching me drink it at the kitchen table," and at this point it all seemed kind of funny and silly, and we started laughing. "That's what really got me interested in watching you" she said. "When I saw your good taste in whiskey I knew I had better keep an eye on you!" We laughed again, and with a smile I challenged her. "What do you know about whiskey?" "Are you kidding me? Any Irish girl knows more about whiskey than you'll ever know!" and we laughed again. "And besides - your whiskey is me own personal favorite - that's really how I knew it was so good." "You know," I said, "your accent comes through after a couple of drinks. 'Me' own favorite." As I said that I watched her blush - she seemed self-conscious about it - and I instantly regretted teasing her. And then, on the spur of the moment - it just came out of my mouth. She didn't seem so scary after all - in fact, she was bright and a lot of fun. "Instead of staring through my windows, would you like to actually see my apartment the way it is supposed to be seen - from the inside? And we can crack open this bottle of whiskey and see if we got a good batch." "Aye, that would be nice" she said, and I paid the bill and we left. We walked around the corner and down the street. The doorman recognized her as we walked into the building, and as we got on the elevator she punched the button. "The twentieth floor, right?" "Right." The elevator lifted us up and then opened on my floor, and as I led the way down the hall she asked if she could use the bathroom in my apartment. "Sure - I take it you know where it is?" - and we laughed again, sort of a running joke now between us. As she walked down the hall to the bathroom I held up the bottle of whiskey. "How do you take yours? Rocks? Neat?" "The way it was meant to be had - a splash of water, nothing else." I poured us two glasses of whiskey, put a couple of peanuts in a dish, and brought everything over to the couch while she freshened up. When she came back we toasted again and sipped at our drinks. "Does it look much different from the inside?" I asked. "Well" - she looked at me to see if I was teasing her again about watching me - "it looks nicer, though I can tell that you don't vacuum very often. From here I can actually see the art you have on the walks, your books, your furniture, and get a sense of the layout. Listen, I still feel bad about watching you. I don't want to ever be tempted to look in your windows again. I'm going to get rid of my binoculars." "And I'm going to get curtains. That should take care of that, don't you think?" I smiled at her. "No, I don't think so" she said. I looked at her, and wondered what just happened. "You don't think so?" "No. I mean, I've been very, very bad. And I've violated your space. And I've learned one of your most private secrets - that you lay in bed at night and masturbate." For some reason I wanted to cringe when she said that. "Well, I guess that's a secret, but it is probably the same secret that every other guy in this city has, except for those who masturbate in the shower instead of bed. Or, both in the shower and in bed." "Well, nobody has seen you but me." "True." "So to make us even I want to tell you a secret of mine." She looked at me. "A secret? Like what, you were mean to your little brother growing up? You stole some pencils from the office?" "No, not exactly." I sipped at my scotch. "Then what, 'exactly' is your secret?" "I got very turned on by watching you." She continued to look at me with those green eyes. "That's probably very natural." It was then that she asked me if she'd made it all up to me - it seemed as if she was fishing. "So is all forgiven?" I raised my glass. "You know, just about. Bring me another bottle next week and I'm sure things will be just fine by then." She looked at me. "Did I make you angry with the cards I sent in the mail?" Funny question. Of course she had, and I had told her that, repeatedly. "Yes, you did, you know that" I told her. "Were you more upset or angry?" I wasn't sure where she was taking this. "I was upset at first. More freaked out than anything. The first time I got past it pretty quickly, but after that it started to get to me." "So I made you angry?" "Yes, once I realized you were watching me in my own bedroom." In fact, she was starting to make me angry again, and I could feel the beginning of the tension in my body, my muscles. "I understand that, and I'm sorry. You should be angry with me." She looked at me with a funny expression - not "ha ha" funny, but something I couldn't quite place. And then, in a single fluid move she almost slid off the couch, kneeled next to the ottoman, and while on her knees laid across the ottoman face down, turning to look at me. "You should punish me." My mind was spinning, and I felt like a deer in the headlights - but kept my face still. "Punish you?" "Please punish me - I deserve it." I just looked at her, and thought to myself "What the hell?" High Rise I just repeated myself, this time a statement instead of a question, to buy some time to think. "Punish you." "Yes. I haven't been punished since I've moved here, and I need it." My mind was spinning, and I was trying to make sense of it. I knew that people were into this kind of thing, but I never had been even interested in such things. Right? And as I was turning it all over in my mind she reached behind her and pulled up her skirt. All the way. To her waist. She had been wearing stockings, that I had seen in the bar. What I hadn't seen was the garter belt, the black lace straps clipped to her stockings, and the fact that she was not wearing any panties. Her ass was bare, edged in black lace as if surrounded by a picture frame. "Take that necktie on the chair next to you - the red silk tie - and tie my hands together. And spank me. Please." "Please" emerged from her lips as a shiver, as a slither, as a wish and a hope and a desire. I looked at her again, up and down. Her hair hanging down. Her breasts pressed against the ottoman, bulging against her top. Her bare ass up, like a small peak, waiting. She wriggled for a moment, and I couldn't tell if she was rubbing herself against the ottoman, getting comfortable, or beckoning me - but it didn't matter. My cock was so hard at this point that I knew I was going to accommodate her wish - which had now become mine. I stood up. "I'm going to close the blinds." "No" she said. "Leave them just the way they are. I want you to spank me." I leaned over and first tied her hands as she had asked, so that they were now clutched together on the floor in front of her. Her hair was hanging down over her eyes, and she couldn't see as I moved alongside of her. "Spank me for spying on you." I hesitated. My cock was pressing uncomfortably against my pants. "Hit me. I deserve it." She wriggled again, and now I could see that she was rubbing herself against the fabric. I just kept looking at her ass - and then I raised my arm and brought down an open hand with a half-hearted 'slap!' She wriggled again. "Harder." I raised my arm again, and as I brought it down she wriggled and I slapped her off center. "Stay still!" I said. "Make me." With my free hand I grabbed her bottom and she felt wonderfully warm and fleshy in my grip. I dug my fingers into the cleavage of her ass to get a better grip, and now I could smell her excitement. I raised my hand against to slap her once more, and this time landed a solid blow resulting in a "crack!" that filled the tiny apartment and she moaned. "Yes, it was so wrong for me to spy on you." I looked down and saw her slit glistening with excitement, and rubbed two fingers along her lips, up and down, and she moaned and wriggled again. "Punish me. Inside." I slid two fingers into her and she pushed back against my hand. I could see the welts rising on her ass as she said "harder." She was soaked, making it easy to slide my fingers in and out of her, back and forth, and she wriggled more but I grabbed her more tightly. As she was moving she was brushing against my pants, against my erection, and I was afraid I was going to cum as she moved alongside me. She shook her head and tossed her hair so she could see me, and said "More." I slid another finger in her, feeling her tightness around me, and as I rubbed my fingers in and out of her vagina she told me what I needed to hear: "Fuck me, fuck me hard and punish me for watching you jerk off." That was all I needed to hear. I had my pants off and my underpants around my ankles before she was done with the words. My cock was jutting right at her and I sank into her in one motion. I felt her back tense and heard her grunt as I slammed into her, and when I was all the way in her I felt her ass, hot and red from the spanking, pressed up against me. I pulled my hips back and drew my cock out of her, and then slammed into her again, up against her ass, making her shake. She grunted, a noise that came from that borderline between pleasure and pain, and I called out to her - "Like this?" "Yes, yes" was her strained reply, and I let myself go. I fucked her like I hadn't ever fucked a woman before, slamming into her with all my might, over and over again, and then she told me to pull her hair, her gorgeous red hair, and as I pulled her hair her head came up and I watched the orgasm sweep thru her, rolling across her face, her mouth open, her eyes fluttering, and I felt her pussy twitching around my cock as she spasmed over and over again. Her orgasm pulled me over the edge as my cock twitched inside her; I sprayed my essence into her until I was oozing out of her, running down the inside of her thighs warm and sticky. I collapsed on top of her and rolled us off the ottoman and lay next to her, feeling her heart pounding though her back - or maybe it was my heart pounding in my chest. It may have been what we both wanted, but it was what she needed, somewhere deep inside. We met again the following weekend, and then the next - but the fourth week I didn't hear from her. I waited for the weekend to nearly pass and I couldn't help myself - I looked into her apartment, and to my surprise, from what I could tell it seemed vacant, but I was too far away to be sure. There was something in the window that I couldn't quite make out, so I took out my camera, attached a big zoom lens to it, and looked more closely at the window of her apartment. Indeed, her apartment was clearly vacant. There was a piece of paper in the window, with a note on it. "It's been good here, but I need to be bad. Xoxo." And that was how it ended. I fantasized briefly that I might run into her somewhere - but let's face it, there are eight million people in this city - and she might not even be here in New York anymore. But just in case, I still leave my blinds open as I surf the internet. If you move into the neighborhood, I'm on the 20 floor, the corner unit.