Like No One's Watching

Erin plopped onto the couch, stretching an arm across the back.

She twirled her fingers. "Go on. Strip for me. You saw me naked. It's only fair I get a look at you too."

"Get real."

"Oh, I am," she said in a low tone. "As real as my lawyer and Walter are on speed dial. Strip. And while you're at it, dance. You saw me dancing the other night, didn't you?"

I nodded.

"Well then, make it up to me." She gestured to the ceiling. "Show me how you danced to this stuff in high school. If you're entertaining enough, maybe I'll forget what you did."

Would Erin really turn me in for spying? She looked deadly serious. Regardless, she was right. I owed her. What the hell. If that's what she wanted, I'd play along.

Yanking off my t-shirt and dropping my baggy shorts, I stood facing Erin in my underwear, shifting from foot to foot.

She nodded slowly in approval. "Wow. You get legs like that from cycling?"

"Mountain biking. In the hills outside of town." I did a few knee bends to show off the definition in my calves and thighs.

She leaned forward with a quizzical expression. "Do you... do you shave your legs?"

"Well, yeah. Most cyclists do. It's easier to clean scrapes. Heals better. And you pick up fewer ticks out in the woods."

"Huh," she said, sitting back.

"So, you shave... just your legs?" Her eyes dropped to my crotch, then expectantly back to me.

I hesitated, then slid my underwear to the floor.

"Yes, just the legs. See?"

Erin raked me from head to toe and back again like I was meat, again nodding approval.

I reddened, fighting an urge to cover myself.

From upstairs a new song started: Wisdom Comes by Gojira. I hadn't heard it in years. Instinctively I started head-banging to the insane tempo.

"There you go," said Erin. "Show me your moves. Throw down like you used to in the mosh pit. Er, did I say that right?"

"Close enough," I said.

Self-consciously, I began twitching and stepping to the crazy beat with half-hearted motions. I remembered it well: too young to get into clubs, my friends drove to the woods with weed and whatever booze we could steal from our parents. We cranked Gojira and other metal bands on the car stereos and got wild.

Erin hooted and laughed as I picked up the pace, her eyes bright, her little grin returning.

Flexing and swaying to the beat, I got into it, ramping up the energy. In the woods we would slam and growl to Cannibal Corpse or Entombed. Hanging out with my friends was freedom, with no one to mock us for our music or how we dressed.

It had been years, but the grind and soar of the guitar enfolded me like it had back then, the beat and growling vocals moving me as if by hypnotic command.

Windmilling my head felt strange without long hair. My legs felt weightless without my sturdy Doc Martins. My friends tried to impress each other with ridiculous power moves each more extreme than the last, and I moved through the powerful kicks, punches and stomps ingrained in my muscle memory, while trying not to smash the furniture.

The track ended. I stood panting, feeling sweat building on my forehead and chest.

"Happy?" I said.

"That was awesome," Erin said, clapping. "Best naked dancing I've seen since my friend's stagette."

A new track began with the same insane tempo. Erin signaled me to start again.

I felt like a loon doing the zombie two-step and thrashing naked in front of her, but Erin clapped and whooped, pumping her fists in the air in appreciation.

The music then slid seamlessly into the much saner Morrigan by Children Of Bodom. I shifted to lower-energy moves—aggressive, slithering menace instead of unhinged thrashing, moving with dark, sinuous contortions, swaying with arms above my head before bending low then jumping back up.

I closed my eyes, feeling every bit the angsty, lonely misfit I had been in school, yearning to escape to live my own life. I had come far since then, though the loneliness remained.

The track ended. I opened my eyes.

"Wow," Erin said. "You're like some angry elder god when you really get into it."

I shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. "That's what this music is good for. Letting go. Getting everything out. At least for me."

"I could use some of that," Erin said as the thrust and opening screams of "Bed of Razors" blasted from above.

She leaped from her seat and pulled her shirt over her head to reveal a tight camisole top, her breasts pushing against it. Her shorts rode low on her hips, clinging to every curve and outlining the contours of her pussy.

Walking around the table, Erin faced me, swaying her hips to the driving rhythm, her eyes alive and playful.

Tentatively, I offered her a hand. She grinned and took it, then pirouetted gracefully underneath.

The beat took off and so did we, twisting and gyrating, windmilling our heads, spinning and stomping. Erin whirled and punched the air, shaking her chest or ass, then laughing when I copied her. She copied my own moves and soon we were grinning and thrashing, our motions getting wilder.

Occasionally we joined hands, coming together to bump chests, then separating to shimmy and thrash separately, feeling wild and unrestrained.

Enraptured by our performance, I had forgotten I was naked until Erin again scanned me from head to toe as she stomped. I didn't care anymore.

Erin was as uninhibited as she had been when I spied on her in the video. She closed her eyes, hands clasped together high above her head, turning and swaying, then got low, fists balled, growling along with the incomprehensible lyrics.

Gone was the organized businesswoman who kept everyone in line. Erin had transformed into that vision of wild, pure energy and sensuality I saw nights before on camera. Though my eyes devoured her every move, she embodied that old phrase "dance like no one's watching."

We danced through several tracks, grinning at each other like fools, having a blast until the beat from upstairs suddenly ceased.

We stood panting and blinking at each other in the ringing silence, as if the lights had just come up in a dance club.

Erin picked up her phone. "Ten o'clock," she said. "Court order."

"So have I made up for spying on you now?" I said. "Dancing and shaking my pecker at you?"

Erin moved close. "Yeah, you made it up to me. Especially since you didn't do it on purpose. I just wanted you to feel as exposed as I did."

"Mission accomplished," I said.

She grinned and tapped on her phone. "Now, let's see if we can stream something to keep the party going..."

A metal track I didn't know burst from speakers on a shelf.

"What is this?" I asked.

She shrugged and started swaying. "Some playlist."

Moving to the driving beat, we riffed off each other: one of us tried a move, the other would mimic and build on it. Back and forth we went, wordlessly becoming more in sync, looking at each other, playful and grinning.

If the Goodmans below were still alive, they must have thought Erin had opened a hip-hop studio for water buffalo as we stomped, slithered and twirled to the wild beat.

The room was blast furnace hot, made worse by our crazy gyrations. We both gleamed with sweat, Erin's top plastered to the curves of her breasts.

I nearly fell over the coffee table when she shrugged her top over her head and flung it away, baring her breasts while still swaying to the slinky rhythm.

When she saw me gawking, captivated and barely able to move, Erin hefted her boobs in her hands and circled her nipples with her thumbs, fixing me with an exaggerated sultry expression.

She laughed when I caressed my own nipples, making an equally silly face. Then she spun, raising her arms to wiggle her covered ass and hips, twerking a few times while looking over her shoulder. Erin straightened and faced me, pleased to see the response on my face and elsewhere.

Moving close, Erin rested her arms over my shoulders and undulated her sweat-slick body against mine, her boobs sliding across my chest, my dick skimming her crotch, our eyes locked. She lifted her face like she expected a kiss, but before I could act, she danced away, smirking.

Turning her back once more, she cast a naughty look over her shoulder then slid her shorts down the curve of her ass, kicking them into a corner. She turned to face me, now as naked as I was, and again slithered to the driving beat.

When I saw her dancing on video, Erin was an erotic angel. Naked in person, she was a seductive devil. She moved with an easy sinuous grace—turning, bending, then kicking or lashing out her arms. I felt myself responding even more to the seductive sight.

It was my turn to tease. "I dunno about this," I said.

Keeping pace with the rhythm, Erin said, "Don't know about what?"

"Doesn't company policy say something about employee fraternization?"

"I wrote the company policy," Erin said, "It only discourages fraternization." She moved closer, looking up at me. "And we're just dancing. What's wrong with that? You can stop if you want." She smiled. "Otherwise, shut up and dance."

Together we performed a twisting, playful metal tango, our slick naked bodies grinding together then moving apart to gyrate and tease before touching once more.

A new track started: Be My Druidess by Type O Negative. We bopped along to the easy beat until the song reached the repeated lyrics I knew so well from high school.

I mouthed the words: "I'll do anything to make you cum."

Erin rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. I wish."

Even in high school I thought the lyrics were juvenile, though my friends and I assured each other we were experts in the art of making girls come.

Sticking out my arms and bending at the knees, I shook my shoulders, limboing lower and lower while mouthing each growling repetition of the words.

"I'll do anything to make you cum."

Erin laughed. "Promises, promises."

I slunk lower and lower, repeating the line, until I was on my knees, eye level with her beautiful pussy.

Erin stopped moving and gazed down, her lips parted, breasts rising and falling. I leaned forward and gave her a playful lap of my tongue.

She squealed and bent away, but when I looked up, there was fire in her eyes. We stared at each other for a moment, then Erin widened her stance and guided my head back to her crotch.

It was an awkward position. I did my best to please her, pressing one hand to the small of her back while parting her thighs with the other, my thumb gliding through her silken folds and teasing around her clit in counterpoint to my mouth and tongue.

Erin bent her knees to give me access, but it was uncomfortable for us both. Pausing, I guided her to the wood floor onto her back. She spread her legs, and we continued.

I basked in her scent and slickness. Exploring, teasing, and gently gliding fingers and tongue over her delicate exposed pussy, soon Erin was panting and writhing, hips rising, her hands holding me to her, guiding me.

Erin's passion and pleasure built higher and higher as I explored her intimate places with fingers, lips and tongue. The pleasure on her face and her gasps and sighs rewarded my efforts. She writhed and bucked, then lay passive, mewling and groaning, then shifted back to panting need, forcing my face into her.

When she seemed ready, I took her delicate nub between my lips to suck gently while pushing two fingers inside her. Erin arched her back, drew a sharp breath and froze, her pussy clenching and releasing in orgasm.

Lifting my head and holding on, I peered up over her rocking hips to watch Erin's scrunched eyes, raised eyebrows and gasping mouth as she came. Such a beautiful sight.

When Erin opened her eyes, she was limp, flushed and breathing hard. I scooted up and held her.

"Told you," I said.

She caressed my cheek and gave a weak smile.

"So you did," she breathed. "Anything else you'd like to do?"

There was no need to answer because Erin was pulling me onto her, positioning me between her legs.

"Wait," I said as she ran my stiff cock between her sopping folds, "here on the floor?"

"I don't care. Fuck. Me." Her words were more plea than command.

Erin sighed as I pushed into her, and I nearly sobbed from the sensation of feeling her open to me in exquisite welcome.

Once fully joined, we paused, looking at each other.

"Okay?" I breathed.

Erin nodded, eyes gleaming, then pulled me tight with arms and legs, humping back to drive my dick deeper into her.

The speakers still beat out a driving rhythm and together, Erin and I began a different dance.

We were eager at first, surging together in waves, hungry, needy. Erin grunted each time I impaled her, then gasped when I withdrew. She then pushed on my ass urging me into her again, burning with need.

Eventually our base instinct to rut ebbed, and we found a gentler rhythm: me withdrawing slowly, her snug passage clinging delightfully, then pushing back in, sometimes hard, sometimes with deliberate slowness. Once deep within her, we ground against each other seeking that impossible union of body and soul, then repeated, all in syncopation with the music.

I felt every inch of her enveloping me, the slickness of our sweaty bodies sliding together, heard Erin's passionate gasps and the creaking of the floor beneath us. Her feminine scent filled the laden air.

Erin rolled us over, positioning herself above then descended, impaling herself. I gripped one hip and one breast as she rode me, using me for her pleasure, rising and falling, then sliding and grinding against me, her eyes lidded with lust.

Her tempo was too fast. I was losing control. I motioned her to slow down, but Erin breathed, "Don't. Just come, Come in me. Fill me. Fuck me."

She kept her steady, grinding pace until too soon I cried out. Grabbing her hips, I jammed up into her. She grunted and ground hard against me as I spasmed, unloading blast after blast into her eager body.

I groaned at the blinding ecstasy, emptying everything I had into sensuous, teasing, beautiful Erin.

When the world returned, I was limp and depleted. Erin lowered herself onto my chest and we kissed, still joined, both of us flushed with hearts racing.

The music from her speakers stopped, but the music between us continued, inside. We looked at each other. Erin brushed a strand of hair from my face as I did the same to her, my own little smile matching hers.

~~~~

After a cool shower, playfully washing each other, we flopped into her bed.

Night had cooled the air, but it was still too warm and sticky. Erin set up fans to blow air over us as we stretched out side-by-side with all the covers thrown aside.

We kissed and stroked each other, but it was too hot, and we were too worn out for anything more.

~~~~

During the night I woke. Erin lay sleeping, naked and beautiful in the dim bedroom light. Watching her, I felt more hopeful than I could remember.

Her eyes fluttered open.

She smiled. "Hiya. Can't sleep?"

"Too hot."

She yawned and stretched, then pecked my cheek and slid from the bed to don an oversized nightshirt.

"Put on your shorts. Come with me."

Erin led us into the hall then up to the wide flat roof. A brick wall about waist-high surrounded the edge. White plastic patio chairs rested here and there on the soft tarry surface. Old coffee cans half-filled with cigarette butts sat in strategic locations.

All around the lights of the city sparkled. The outside air was cooler, glorious against my bare chest.

Erin lead me to the edge then propped her arms on the wall, looking over the city. I joined her, taking in the sprawling lights and the dark windows of the adjacent buildings and shops below. Two people on a motor scooter putt-putted up the car-lined street and disappeared.

Erin placed her hand over mine and squeezed, still looking over the city. I felt as uncertain as I had with my first girlfriend back in high school, mind buzzing with questions, hopes and desire.

She said, "Sometimes I come up here when it's too hot or I need to think. I like watching the city sleep."

I nodded. "My condo has a little balcony. Sometimes I sit out watching for hours. Except there's a popular pub two blocks away."

"Late night rowdies?" Erin asked.

"Late night barfers. My building seems to be exactly the right distance for when the drunks need to lose their lunch. Or take a piss. The super is out there most weekend mornings with a hose."

She chuckled. "Then let's stay off your balcony when you invite me over."

"You want to come over?"

Erin's eyes searched mine. "Of course I want—" She looked away. "No. I don't want to jinx this. Let's just be together. Have fun. For now. Can we do that?"

I touched her hand. "We can," I said. She smiled and leaned her shoulder against me.

We looked over the glittering city in silence. Beyond lay the dark bulk of the hills with their meandering hiking and cycling trails.

"Want to come cycling with me tomorrow?" I said.

Her eyes flared. "Oh, I'd love to. But I don't have a bike. And I'd break my face."

"You can use my beater. We'll take it easy. You'll be fine." I stroked her thigh. "And your legs are already shaved."

Erin laughed and turned towards me. She felt perfect in my arms. We kissed.

She pulled back, grinning.

"Cooled off now?"

I nodded.

"Then let's get you heated up again."

She sank to her knees and worked to loosen my shorts.

"Hey," I said, "you don't have to do that. This isn't some porn movie."

She rubbed my stiffening dick lovingly against her cheek and gave me a few strokes.

"I like it. When it's the right guy."

She licked the underside of the head and cradled my balls. I had to steady myself against the wall.

"Am I the right guy?"

"I have my hopes," she said, and slowly engulfed my dick.

With others, blowjobs were delivered as a perfunctory warm up. I insisted they didn't need to, much preferring good old-fashioned fucking, but they insisted, like it was some compulsory tradition.

Erin made love to me with her mouth—languidly stroking, licking and sucking, looking up with shining eyes, obviously enjoying every moment.

As was I. Elated and weak-kneed, I was astonished at the sensations she was igniting. It was the most exciting, loving yet filthy blowjob I'd ever experienced.

Nervous, I watched the door to the stairs, praying no one would step through and catch us. The surrounding rooftops were all slightly lower, though anyone in the adjacent apartment building with their windows open could see my back and hear the stifled groans Erin drew from me with her loving mouth.

She worked me to the edge of orgasm as I gasped, self-conscious of our exposure under the glowing night sky. She then backed off only to work me to the point of release once more.

When Erin stopped, I looked down at her gleaming eyes and proud smile. She stood and moved beside me, bending low over the wall, arms gripping the outside edge. Fiery need lit her eyes as she leered at me and wiggled her hips.

Again, I looked around, wary of being so public.

"No one comes up here this late," she said. "No one can see. Fuck me like you dance. Fuck me like no one's watching."

With a growl I stepped behind her, flipped her nightshirt over her waist and rubbed between her pussy lips. She was already slick and ready and I pushed, fascinated at the sight of her stretching open as I sank into her velvet heat.

Erin's head poked up as I penetrated her then fell between her shoulders when my cock filled her all the way. I held her hips and took her purposely, marveled at the sight of her ass and back, her arms bracing against each thrust, our mating exposed to the stars and the surrounding city.

It was another dance, each of us feeding off each other's energy and need. Erin pressed back in time to my thrusts, arching her hips to find the best angle. Soon she was resting her shoulders on the coarse concrete of the wall, head poked over the edge, huffing and grunting as I took her.