Chuck muttered an oath as the water from the hose hit his bare foot. It was hot, not just warmed by the sun, but hot, only cooling down to lukewarm as the water ran. The heat was a tangible thing, sweltering and heavy.
This was the third year he had spent in the quiet South Florida house that he bought from the money his mother had left him. It was perfect for him it sat about eight feet up from the sand, the white sand with its little peaks and valleys and small spots covered in sea-oats and shifting dunes that led three feet down to the sparkling Gulf. Chuck couldn't see that from where he was standing, but he could hear the water lapping against that beautiful sand and he knew that he could walk out the back gate of his yard and be in the water in seconds. He was only wearing a pair of shorts, the early evening was still hot and hazy and he was watering the lush greenery around him.
A hot sheen of sweat coated every inch of his 6 foot frame. He was lean and muscular, his dark golden skin covered in a light dusting of dark curls. He smiled as he heard the click, click, click of typing next door. For the last three weeks he had awakened to that sound and gone to sleep to it. The little cabana had been empty since Chuck had moved in, and the story at the local tiki bar was that a writer had bought it. A reclusive writer, who never left the cabana, had her groceries and wine delivered and never once, to his knowledge, had a visitor.
He turned the hose off and wandered over toward the far side of his yard close to the fence abutting the property next door. He guessed he was catching the "who is she" bug that kept the locals all agog because soon he was behind the big oak hauling himself up onto a limb and gazing over at the pool where she sat typing. She was facing the pool, her back to him, sitting in a small wrought iron chair at a glass and iron table. She was wearing a bikini, blue he thought, and her long curly brown hair was hanging down her ramrod straight back. She looked adorable! As his eyes traveled down he almost fell off the branch, she was wearing heels, very high heels, and her feet were planted firmly on the ground on each side of the chair. Her legs were beautiful, spread wide apart, and he would have given anything to be pressing his face up between them. She tapped furiously at the keyboard, rocking her bottom now and then on the seat of the chair flexing and bouncing her long brown legs.
She stopped typing and stretched her arms up high above her head moaning delicately. Chuck watched avidly as she reached behind and pulled her long hair off her neck, rolling her head from side to side. She needs a massage, Chuck thought and sighed as she dropped her hair and leaned back in the chair. She reached out and pulled an ice cube from the glass in front of her and began rubbing it on her neck and shoulders, then on her chest, where he couldn't see. He watched her back as her hands ran across her throat and chest and down her stomach and felt like a pervert as his dick got hard and he unzipped his shorts.
He stroked himself as her hand dipped lower and she leaned back further, spread her legs open wide, and began masturbating. He watched her head roll around and heard her moaning softly. Her hands were working frantically between her legs and then she stiffened and was still. She stretched again and then went back to typing and Chuck finished stroking his hard cock to its silent explosion looking at her back and hearing that continual 'click, click, click.'
The next night at Li' Tiki, his favorite bar on the beach the big question was, "Chuck, have you seen her?"
"No, I haven't seen her, but she sure is busy, I hear her typing at all hours of the day and night."
He ordered another vodka and lemon water and leaned back against the bar looking out at the beach, he was trying to forget that he had spied on her and masturbated, what a creep, he thought. It was near closing and he smiled and nodded at the bartender as he started to walk off home with his drink.
Tony laughed and yelled, "that's three this week, Chuck, you better be bringing them back sometime!"
Chuck just raised his glass and kept walking, looking up at the stars, enjoying the light breeze and thinking about her skin puckering up under the cool air. He chuckled at his fantasy and shook his head, taking another long swallow from his glass. Behind his house he walked down to the shore and stood there letting the warm foamy water wash up over his feet, finishing his drink and then tuning, he walked slowly up to his back gate with his empty glass in hand.
He smiled as he heard the faint 'click, click, click' coming from the yard next to his. He let himself in his gate and walked quietly back behind the big oak and pulled himself onto the limb. He leaned back against the tree and watched her as she worked. She had candles and lamps on the table in front of her and a glass of wine at hand. She was dressed in what appeared to be some black, flimsy, lacy thing and, yes, there they were, those high, high heels. Her hair was piled up on top of her head, a few curls falling down her neck, sweaty and sticking to her skin. She gulped wine, typed and every now and then she would stop and rub her hands between her legs. Chuck was once again rubbing his thickening cock, gently, quietly pulling and squeezing himself into a long, hard, throbbing state of arousal.
Suddenly she turned, looking towards him in the darkness, "who's there?"
Chuck went still, sitting there with his cock in his hand, he didn't know if he should answer her.
"I can see you." She stood and up and faced him, walking toward him. "I knew you were there last night, too," she purred at him, "come on over."
