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Summer Heat – Part Two

20 August, 2012

It was a burning hot weekend in England, and it seemed an appropriate time to carry on with my new serial. To catch up on the first chapter, click here:
Previously on Summer Heat

 

All ready? Right, let’s carry on.

 

Summer Heat – Part Two

As the shuddering, pulsing waves of her climax subsided, Jessica became aware again of her surroundings, of her vulnerability, her exposure. While her pleasure had been increasing, intensifying, she had become one with the storm; her skin had come alive with each raindrop, every peal of thunder echoed in her own moans, the flashes of electrical energy charged her arousal. But now she lay naked on the wet grass, sated, relieved, her shivers were of cold not of passion. The rain continued, but while before it had been an erotic release from the oppressive heat of the day, it was now a damp, chilling downpour. She sat up and reached for her sodden clothes, as much to cover her embarrassment as for warmth, and began dressing awkwardly, remaining seated to reduce the chance of being seen. She struggled to push her head and arms into her t-shirt, its weight and its wetness dragging against her body, and then slid her skirt over her legs and to her waist, as best she could as she kept low.

She glanced towards the flats, spying each window through the trees, wondering if any of the neighbours had been woken by the storm. Or by her. She had consciously tried to keep her sounds quiet, but she could not now remember whether she had succeeded. Had she even been aware? She felt herself blush at the thought of knowing smirks on the stairs, of conversations stopping as she approached.

She sat on the bench now, slid her sandals back on her feet. Another flash of lightning, away to the east where the storm was now headed. She stood, smoothed her t-shirt, crossed her arms across her chest to cover her breasts, so clearly visible through the cotton. The lightning flashed again, but this time it came from a different direction. It had come from behind the block, to the north of her she guessed, as this was a south-facing garden. The seconds passed, no thunder followed. She left the seclusion of the trees to return to the security of her flat, emerged into the garden and began to walk quickly. One hand remained across her chest, protecting her modesty, and she kept her head low to avoid the gaze of any residents watching the rain from their bedroom windows. Again, a flash of lightning, from the north. She instinctively looked to the sky above the flats, aware that she had missed the bolt of electricity but drawn towards where it had occurred. And as she looked up, a dark shadow moved away from an upstairs window. A window on the second floor.

She dropped her head again, rushed to the rear door of the block and tapped in the entry code, her embarrassment causing her to mistype. The door buzzed open at the second attempt, and after a brief pause under the porch to wring more rain from her t-shirt and skirt again as best she could, and dashed upstairs to her flat.

She left her sandals on the doormat outside, and went indoors, rushing straight to the bathroom where she stripped off her clothes again, tossing them into the bath, and wrapped herself in her white towelling robe. She picked a fresh towel from the rail, and dried her legs frantically, roughly, before moving on to her arms, her hair. The image of the shadow at the window came into her mind again, and she stopped drying herself, sat on the bath’s edge. The window belonged to the flat above her, where a new resident had recently moved in. They had not met, but she had seen a couple of his letters in the hallway. Was his name Tony? Toby? And then her eyes jammed shut as she realised that he could have seen her before she left the trees, could have been watching her on the grass, spying on her. She dashed to her own bedroom window, looked towards that secret spot where she had taken pleasure in the storm, but in the dark she could not be sure how visible she had been. His window was higher than hers, maybe he had a clearer view, a perfect view of her private moments.

Another flash of lightning away to the east reminded her of those mysterious flashes she had seen coming from beyond the flats. Or maybe, she thought with a renewed shiver, from inside the flats themselves. From his flat. Her legs gave way, and she sat down heavily on the bed behind her. Not only had he been watching her, he had been taking fucking pictures. A renewed embarrassment filled her, accompanied by a feeling of disgust, of violation. She felt tears pricking her eyes, tears of shame. And then of anger.

She cried silently for several minutes, and slowly her anger grew into a determination. He had no right to invade her in that way, to insult her, to objectify her. She hated confrontation, her natural reserve ensured that she shied away from any conflict, but this was different. This was more than a neighbourly dispute over playing music too loud, this was something more serious, maybe even criminal, and she owed it to herself and the other residents to challenge him. And to challenge him now before he could delete the evidence. Or worse, upload it. She put on a pair of jeans and a large, baggy jumper, opened the door to her flat and stamped angrily upstairs.

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6 Comments
  1. Oh bugger. Whats gonna happen, whats gonna happen? TELL ME NOW!

  2. TheOthers1 permalink

    Interesting. Personally, I think she has latent exhibitionistic tendencies. I’m very curious as to how that confrontation is going to go. Nice writing by the way. Sharp.

    • Agreed, i think she has a shyness but part of her wants to overcome it and this is how it manifests itself. glad you liked it, this chapter took a bit of building to get right

  3. I’m sad for her! She just wanted to have a special private moment to herself outside, and this guy ruined it??

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