John knew as soon as he saw the arm come out the window that it was her. He'd driven through this same coffee shop since the first day it was built. On the day Amanda was hired, he noticed her. Now, three cars removed from the window, he recognized the skin, the way she held her hand, and the way she pulled her arm back in with the money.
He waited. The arm returned with a drink. The line inched forward. This time he saw her arm and her shoulder. She wore a dark blue top. When he was one car back, he finally saw just a fleeting glimpse of her face.
Then it was his turn.
Every morning he felt the same anticipation. On days she didn't work, he was disappointed nearly to the point of depression. But when he knew she was there—like today—his heart raced. The car came to a stop at the window. He grabbed his money and turned toward the window.
Her oval-shaped face glowed along with her smile, the perfect skin shining back at him. As always, her black hair was pulled back tight, hanging in a single pony tail to the middle of her shoulders.
"Hi, John," she said cheerfully.
"Hi, Amanda," he said, reaching out with the exact change, as he almost always did.
He watched her graceful motions. He watched the prominent cheekbones in her pastel face as she smiled. He looked into her dark eyes as she reached out with his drink.
"Thanks. See you tomorrow," he said.
"Have a great day," she answered.
He drove away. Happy.
He often wondered about her age. He settled on twenty three for some reason. She seemed older than a college kid, but not much. She moved and talked and acted more mature. Would that make him, fifty seven, her father's age? Older than her father?
For whatever reason, John thought of her as single. Oh, sure. She didn't wear any rings, but that didn't mean much these days and perhaps she didn't wear them at work, thus avoiding having to worry about a stone accidentally not coming back inside the window.
Or perhaps he simply wished she was single, for the sake of his daydreams. Yes, John daydreamed about Amanda all the time.
A widower, John had lots of time alone to fantasize about pretty, young girls. But it was only Amanda he thought about. His picture of her was not complete until the Saturday he entered the shop, rather than drive through. She was at her usual spot in the window. John's first glance was at the firm, round ass tightly contained in her jeans. When she turned, he looked up at her breasts. Under the apron and shirt it was hard to discern, but they appeared nothing more than adequate and firm.
They acknowledged each other as he ordered and waited. She floated quickly from the window to the cash register to the counter with her drinks. It was from that moment on that John fantasized about no other woman.
Amanda was an introvert in every sense of the word. The death of her father when she was very young was a shock. But being the oldest child, she found herself having to work all through high school and during the first couple years most kids her age were in college. She had no social life to speak of.
The first time she experimented with an old video camera her mother had, Amanda was hooked. It became a means of expressing herself. Ideas that otherwise would have been hidden behind Amanda's shy exterior were easily stated on video.
When her family could finally afford college, assisted by grants and other financial aid, Amanda quickly enrolled in cinematography. She loved the older professors and the attention they devoted to her. It was the type of caring she never got from her father.
Also, she found the two or three year age difference between herself and most of the guys in her classes made a huge difference in maturity. She wanted a man, not a boy.
The daily drive-through and weekend visits continued. On an otherwise average Monday, John checked his mail after work and found the normal junk, plus a small manila folder with just 'John' in the center and 'Amanda' where the return address would go. No postage had been used.
He took the mail inside and opened the folder. It contained a single CD with no label. Thoroughly confused, John sat at his computer and inserted the CD into a drive. Then, he sat back and waited.
The video began with Amanda walking through the living room of an apartment or condo. The camera was stationary and she stayed within frame the entire time. John watched her undo her pony tail and shake out her beautiful, black hair. She ran her hands through it, allowing the natural, unkempt style to fall into place. She kicked off her shoes and untucked the shirt that hugged her luscious body.
With no apron on, he got a better silhouette view of her breasts. His opinion of them went up a notch. She walked towards the hallway, her ass swaying with every step she took.
The video jumped to Amanda in her bedroom. It was a modern room with very little clutter. Wall hangings were scarce and the dresser contained few objects on top. The bed was small with a multi-patterned quilt.
Amanda strode to the center of the frame, at the foot of the bed, and put her hands on the bottom of her shirt. With a quick pull, the top was over her head and she tossed it onto the bed. She wore a plain white bra. She turned to provide a full view of her breasts. But nothing about her movements indicated it was done for the camera. It was as if the camera was not there. She never looked at it; never changed expressions.
She unbuttoned her jeans and pulled down the zipper. With a barely detectable wiggle of her hips, she pushed the pants down. She bent at the waist and John's eyes traveled quickly from her breasts to the curve of her ass. The matching white panties rode low on her hips and hid very little when she stood back up at a slight angle to the camera.
Amanda spun and began walking toward the dresser. Her hands easily unhooked her bra and she removed it while she walked. Not even a hint of her bare breasts was visible to John, and he checked the mirror on the dresser. Nothing.
She stopped and put her thumbs inside the top of her panties. She began to push them down. Immediately, the video jumped to Amanda in the bathroom.
She was sliding open the glass shower door. The camera showed her from the very top of the ass up, naked. She stepped behind the door and closed it.
John stared at the outline of Amanda's body, nearly all of it visible now that she had moved a couple more feet away from the camera. Only a ghostlike image of her survived through the thick glass, but he could follow her motions as she washed her hair and used a sponge with body wash to do the rest. She lingered at her breasts and between her legs, resting a foot on the ledge as she washed.
Every now and then, if she brushed up against the glass, a sharper image emerged. But John never got the benefit of a clear view.
After what otherwise was a routine shower, Amanda moved to the back of the shower and began to slide open the door.
The scene moved once again to her bedroom. Amanda sat on the end of the bed. All John saw was her head and bare shoulders. She spoke:
"Hi, John. I hope you aren't mad that I followed you home one Saturday. I wanted to know where to leave this CD. Hope you liked it. If you would like to see another one, write 'Yes' on one of the bills you hand me at the coffee shop. I'll deliver the next CD the same way. Bye for now."
She ended the video with a kiss.
John leaned back in his chair, caught his breath, and felt his cock straining against his underwear. After a few seconds, he popped the CD out, and then pushed the disk back in. He watched the video again. And again.
