Okay, I cant keep looking at this damn computer screen. The letters are all blurring together into a haze of black, white, and gray. I peek through the blinds of the office window, the one that overlooks the back yard, and there she is. Lying on a towel next to the edge of the pool. The bright sun reflecting off the water rob me of the details, so I look away, focus my eyes back on the dark pine file cabinet. Goodness, my mouth feels dry. Ill just quickly get something to drink, let my eyes rest for a bit, then Ill come back and finish this. I need to get this done. As I walk past the open French doors, I turn my head to look outside. Im frozen. I realize Im staring, so I shuffle a little closer to stand behind one of the doors. Even though there are dozens of glass panes that reveal Im stationed here, I cant move. Besides, her head is turned away from me.

The orange afternoon sun makes her skin absolutely glow; not the usual cool alabaster, but something richer, deeper, hotter. She lifts her head a little, adjusting her arms beneath it so shes more comfortable. From this distance, I can actually see the little drops of water glistening in the sunshine, all over her skin, in her honey silk hair. I can see the muscles flexing in her arm; they bulge and flatten–she must be rubbing her nose. She shifts her body on the towel, and initially, I think shes going to roll over and catch me here peeping at her like some sicko. But instead I see her once-hidden arm dip into the water. I watch amazed as the litheness of her back moves her arm back and forth. And it isnt a surprise that my eyes become enamored with the swelling between her hips, clad in a too-skimpy bikini bottom. Black, and the contrast against her skin almost makes me weak in the knees.

All of the sudden, my throat feels even more parched than before, but Im rooted to the spot. I notice the strings of the bikini, riding low on her hips and loosely knotted. I realize to my dismay, Ive been unconsciously playing with the drawstring of my pajama pants, untying and tying, as if I was practicing the action or doing it instead ofMy breath catches in my throat at what she does next. All ten toes curl, bending down like dominoes in a row. I watch mesmerized as her calves ripple with the effort, a few water droplets freed of their perches on her smooth skin. I can feel my eyelids growing heavy, and Im not sure if its possible dehydration or possibly the sight of her. She rolls over, lazily, slowly, eyes closed, shutting out the bright sun. She relaxes back down, one arm above her head, her hand tousling her wet hair. Her other draws luxurious circles over her slick tummy.

My eyes drift upwards, to the roundness of each of her *****. Her tantalizing pink nipples hidden behind that maddening black top. Enraptured, I watch them rise and fall with her calm breathing. Down through the slope of her neck, one of my favorite parts of her body. Up, over her chin to her lips. Oh, god, did I just see that? She just stuck her tongue out, ran it slowly over each lip, probably savoring that new cherry-flavored lip gloss she bought. Now theyre wet and parted, soft and inviting. Well, my throat isnt parched anymore; my mouth is practically watering.

Whatcha doin?

I see her lips moving, but the sound of her voice reaches me a few seconds later, it doesnt register. I see now that her head is turned toward me, her brown eyes partially hidden because shes squinting. Umjust getting something to drinkdo you want something? Nice save! She shakes her head, to both my dismay and delight. I turn to do what I said my purpose in the kitchen was. I top off a glass of water and retrace my steps across the French doors, but once again Im frozenby her soft, sultry, irresistible voice: Bettecome here.