Chapter One

 

I sometimes feel like I'm living in the last remains of a world which is steadily going downhill into inevitable ruin and destruction, into some kind of dystopian future. If it's not our corrupt and greedy politicians who'll do us in it's the corrupt and greedy oligarchs who run the big corporations which screw us over every chance they get.

My parents graduated from UCLA and Caltech into jobs in insurance and banking. There was no delay between graduation and hiring. They were hired during visits the top companies made to universities to hire out much needed new employees. They were wooed with nice salaries and benefits and promises of plenty of opportunities for future promotion and growth.

Within a few years, they were both in offices - real offices, you know, with doors, and had already been promoted and were making better money. They both bought houses because houses were cheap, and good investments, so why pay rent? Money was easily available to people like them with good, solid, steady work, and nice paychecks.

That's the way things were back then, apparently.

They were doing so well, and enjoying life so much they waited to have kids, that being me and my brother. They were in their late thirties by then. My brother is in college and I graduated last spring. So they decided to retire and go on a year-long, round-the-world cruise.

Nice.

The world did not beat a path to my door while I was in school. The offers of work were much fewer and far between. And all of them were gigs. Apparently, the tech companies don't see much reason in offering permanent work to newbies when they can get a few days or weeks or months here and there, with no benefits, of course.

My parents only had to compete with other local graduates. I have to compete with people from India and China who'll work twelve-hour days for rock bottom prices. The corporations love it. Me, not so much. They can pick and choose, and one wrong move or disagreement or refusal to work unpaid overtime on your part and you'll be frozen out.

I'm an honors graduate in web marketing. And I like to think I'm very good at it. I can spin out an attractive website for small, medium, or large businesses to sell their products or services in no time at all. Unfortunately, so can that guy in India. And his cost of living is a hell of a lot lower than mine.

I do understand the market better, though, and have, I think, a better grasp on what people in this country want and like. Which, of course, means I'm aware of how to market myself best to get those gig jobs.

And no matter what anyone might think about modern equality, tolerance, and political correctness in the tech industry, it didn't take long to figure out my looks were what could give me an edge. As long as I refined them properly.

Tech is mostly male, but there's pressure to hire minorities and women. That's partly a plus for me, but the guy from India counts as a minority, too. Those mostly male tech guys rarely got to enjoy the presence of girls who look like me, though.

God knows I was showered with attention when I was in school - much of it really awkward. I don't know what it is about tech nerds that gives them such poor social skills but the cliché is, I've found, more often real than not.

So I present myself carefully, whether it's a video or in-person meeting. My brown hair has to be just right, partly cute, partly businesslike. I usually pull much of it back by leaving some tendrils going down the sides. I wear just a little lipstick and then balance that with glasses I don't need, big black framed, rectangular ones.

Why? Because if you look too 'sexy' these guys have a tendency to think you're an airhead. And the cliché of girls who wear glasses works on them. Yes, it really does counter the 'too pretty to have a brain' reflex. It's incredibly stupid but in marketing, you go with what works.

At the same time, I want to look hot enough that they want to see more of me, want to be in Zoom meetings with me, want an excuse to call me in for an in-person conference. Yes, I get hit on a lot but I've got lots of experience flattering guys while turning them down, especially by inventing a boyfriend who doesn't exist.

So I'll wear a top which is form-fitting, lets anyone notice I'm a girl, but isn't obvious. I've tried lots out on video, studying myself in them to pick the ones which occupy that narrow line between hot and too hot.

There are other, subtle ways I influence things. I usually take zoom calls in my bedroom. The angle of the webcam allows it to see the foot of my modern gray platform bed. Just like, a foot of the bed, to be subtle but bring ideas to their minds. Behind it is the big, almost floor to ceiling windows looking out on the back yard, with a view of a tall green hedge wall and big, flowery bushes. Not the pool, though. That can rouse envy.

An image of success - but not too much - helps breed respect, consciously or subconsciously. Yes, psychology was a big part of my education.

Of course, it's my parents' house, and their back yard, but they don't need to know that.

Don't get me wrong, I act very professional on the calls, but personable, always smiling, earnest and eager, but confident, not desperate. I've refined my persona carefully. I never allow doubt or resentment to show.

With my parents on a world cruise and my brother in New England, I have the house to myself. It's a gorgeous house, with a gorgeous back yard. My parents have had decades to fix it up just the way they like. They're not wealthy, but they're certainly comfortable. It's got five bedrooms, a finished basement with pool table, bar, home gym, projection screen TV theater room, and a big, private back yard.

You ever see the modern homes they're selling? They've got tiny back yards and very little room between houses. Not this place. This place is way, WAY beyond the reach of someone like me. I don't know, in fact, if I'll ever be able to afford my own place. The cost of houses or even condos has shot up so much since my parents bought the place it's ridiculous.

The big plots are one of the reasons the neighborhood has been getting a lot of redevelopment. People buy one of the houses then build something even nicer. It's the cost of the land that matters, after all.

I stood in front of the TV and posed for it, smirking just a bit as I imagined taking a meeting like this. I was wearing comfy, sit-around-the-house white track pants pulled low on my hips to show the thin black strings of my thong curving up across my hips. I was also wearing a black halter which covered only what had to be covered.

That left a smooth expanse of flesh from just below my breasts to well below my belly button bare, and I was proud of how firm and flat it was. I work out, and it shows.

I let the shoulder straps of the halter ease down over my shoulders, lowering the thing enough to show some cleavage. Not too much, just a little. Well, maybe a little more. Yeah, that would sure have their eyes popping.

I laughed and then slipped the halter off completely before shucking the pants. I stood there in my thong and admired myself on the monitor, running a tongue along my lower lips as I slid my fingers up and back through my hair.

Would you like to... hire me... sir?

Ha.

My breasts are as firm as my belly, which takes some doing. Not that they're huge, but they're a good size, lovely and full and round. Oh yeah, they get me a lot of attention, and I've never taken my top off that they didn't light up the eyes of whatever guy I was with.

Not professional? Hmmm, probably not.

I shrugged and left the room, clad in only the thong. It's not like I was going to run into anyone in my own house. Not for months. I went downstairs and padded across the floor, then out to the back door. I felt a little shiver of excitement, my nipples tingling, as I slid the door open.

This used to take some daring, since I didn't want to be caught naked by my family, not to mention any guests. But these days I didn't need to worry about that.

I slipped off my thong at the edge of the pool, then dove in. I'm a very good swimmer, as you might expect, having grown up in this house. I swam smoothly and efficiently to the other side of the pool, then reached up and grabbed the diving board.

Most girls don't have a lot of arm strength, but like I said, I work out a lot. I was able to actually pull myself up onto the diving board, though not without some effort. I stood upon it and faced down the pool, but I also had an eye on my peripheral view - so to speak.

One of those redeveloped houses, you see, was over to the side. The man who'd built it had built it high - high enough that the top floor window on the corner overlooked our back yard. It couldn't see much, but it could certainly see the diving board if you were on it.

I didn't know his name. Or if he was married, or how many people lived there. I'd only got the occasional glimpse of him from a distance, out front of some big, grotesque, modern monstrosity of a house that probably cost him two or three million dollars. He was in his early forties, I figured. He looked like a jock, you know, a football player, with big chest and no neck.

I was surprised because that went against my own clichéd view. I mean, the cliché about pretty girls not being very bright goes equally with the jock stereotype. But obviously he was successful enough to own a place like that.

And I resented it, even though that made no sense at all. Then again, I resent my parents too, even though I love them. I resent those people who have seemingly easy success, those people leading a golden life. Because mine doesn't seem so golden. I survive on my parents' generosity. Were it not for that I'd be in some cheap rooming house somewhere.

I'd never seen anyone at that window but him. My first view had been in passing, just as I was about to dive - naked. Then I'd had this shocked moment as I flew into the water. Someone had seen me naked!

That he'd seen me naked embarrassed me, at first. But then I thought, well, I have nothing to be embarrassed about. I look great naked. I look sexy and hot and toned and fit. And I'd been standing straight, my arms raised to dive, so my body would have been perfectly firm.

I avoided the diving board when naked after that, but did notice him a few times when diving with my bikini on. I think he works out of that room. At least I've never seen anyone there but him. Or maybe he just hangs around waiting for me to get on the diving board so he can peep at me.

I'm not sure why I decided to remove my bikini to dive again. Part of it was a kind of 'fuck you' attitude. I'm in my own backyard with high fences and hedges. If you want to go and build a ridiculously high house that's not going to get me to change my enjoyment.

But I also felt a kind of sexual pride and smugness. It was like 'yeah, look at me, buddy. You'll never get a girl like me. Not at your age. I'm out of your league.' I imagined I was the high-point of his day any time he caught a glimpse of me. Maybe afterward he masturbated to images of me.

Yes, that was kind of yucky, but it was also kind of hot. I enjoyed the fact I was attractive, and that guy's got turned on looking at me - as long as it wasn't in a situation where they could harass me. And this guy was way too old to even try to hit on me. Or at least, if he did, he'd know he had little chance of success.

And let's face it, if you're a girl today, and hot, you know it. There's so much sex out there on the internet. And guys are all over that. So every girl checks and measures herself, you know. And it's very pleasing to be up high on the scale of hotness. But at the same time, even with all that naked female flesh around you have to cover yourself up or people call you names.

Or worse, ugly, horrible, stupid guys hit on you constantly.

Sure I've imagined posing naked for pictures and seeing them online, or maybe even videos. I've imagined thousands and thousands of guys getting turned on and masturbating to them - just cuz I'm so sexy, you know. But there's no freaking way I'd ever do that!

I'm no slut, after all!

But hey, if I'm in my own private back yard and as far as I know nobody can see me, then there's no problem. And I'd been careful to never look towards that window when I was here. I mean, I let my eyes roll in that direction, just to see if I can get a glimpse, but I always act like I'm alone in the world.

It's... weird, I know. It's kind of like being an exhibitionist, I suppose. At least, a little bit. But I think most of us are exhibitionists to one degree or another. Girls anyway.

He was always there now. I wasn't sure if he just sat there, or if he kept his window cracked so he'd hear splashing in the pool. Probably the latter.

I turned on the diving board and took the traditional pose, arms high, body taut, stretched out, breasts taut. I knew he was there. I'd caught a bit of movement out of the corner of my eye. Then I moved forward and dove off, feeling a strange rush of energy as I flew through the air.

Getting off on the sight of me, old man? I thought smugly. I bet you are. I bet you're wishing you were twenty or twenty-one again so you could try for girls like me. Loooooser!

I climbed out of the pool and walked around to the other end. I cupped my breasts and gave them a squeeze. They felt full and firm and hot, my nipples very hard. I climbed up the stairs, and then halted, my hands sliding up across my face, then up and through my hair, squeezing the water out.

And incidentally, oh yeah, just by coincidence, giving him a great view.

I wondered if I should turn and bend over as if fussing with something on the ladder. No, that would be too obvious. I raised my arms and then strode forward and dove off.

Yes, this was turning me on. Teasing guys was... wrong, I guess. But hey, he was a voyeur! Sort of. I mean, he could pull away from the window when I was diving! He shouldn't be looking at a naked girl young enough to be his daughter, the perve!

I climbed out of the pool and went around again, feeling smug and hot and... powerful, in a strange way. I mean, if sexual power was the only kind I had - and it was - then I was going to enjoy it a little. I climbed onto the board and moved to the end, then back again, letting him see my nice, trim bubble butt.

I turned around and moved forward, then leaned over more and more, slowly, letting my full breasts hang down attractively. I bent way over, quickly, gripping the end of the diving board as I whipped my lower body up behind me, trying to do a handstand.

I did it, momentarily, then fell into the pool. I climbed out again, and imagined doing a handstand and then spreading my legs wide. Ha! No way! No, that was too much. I paused and then did a handstand on the grass, where he couldn't see me, balancing myself carefully, then letting my legs fall slowly apart in either direction.

Oh yeah! Man! That would really get his cock hard! Ha!

I dropped onto the grass, laughing to myself, then went forward and climbed up onto the diving board before trying again. I managed it, for a few seconds, my legs tight together, then pushed off into the pool.

That was enough for now. I swam a bit more, making sure to splash around so he'd know I was still here. He must be frustrated at not seeing me, I thought. Too bad, buddy. Show's over for today.

Luzer!

I dried myself off, enjoying the sunny day, and being casually naked out of doors. Did I want to put on some lotion and lay around in the sun for a bit? I had the time since I didn't currently have a gig. I did have an interview - over the computer - for later in the day, but that was hours away.

I shrugged and went inside, got a drink, my iPod with speaker, my iPad, and sunscreen. I sat down on a chaise lounger and applied the sunscreen, casually, in part, but it did not escape me how... sexual it was, applying it to my bare breasts.

The tactile pleasure of feeling slick, warm, soft hands massaging my breasts was obvious. And sliding my slippery hand down between my thighs, spreading them apart, and sliding my fingers up and down against myself there - yeah, that was obvious, too. And I was already kind of turned on.

The thought of masturbating outside tickled my mind. It would be kind of outrageous, and at least a little dangerous. What if some perve climbed the fence and was peeking through the hedges or something? Yeah, I know that was seriously unlikely, but still. The possibility made me both anxious and... hot.

There was no way the guy next door could see me. The hedges completely covered me from all the surrounding houses.

I drew my knees up, my feet flat on the lounge, then shifted my feet and knees as far apart as I could without taking my feet off the soft pad. I let my hands cup and gently squeeze my oiled-up breasts and my thumbs and forefingers roll and pinch my nipples.

My left hand continued to squeeze my sensitive breasts while my right slid down my smooth, warm body and my middle finger slid along the naked line of my sex. I let it slide up down, flattening it against myself, then pushing so it pushed aside my labia and slid down into that tight, warm pink valley between the lips of my sex.

There it slid up and down as I squeezed my breasts harder and looked around me, feeling a dark ripple of excitement at doing this outside so... brazenly. I rubbed harder and faster, but it was still a fairly gentle stroking motion until I curved my middle finger in and pushed it into my body.

I screwed it into the knuckle, then drew it out, before pushing it again - accompanied by my ring finger. I sighed at the rippling rush of pleasure as I pumped them in and out, and let the pad of my thumb gently rub my clitoris.

Everything felt more delicious, more erotic, with the slipperiness of my body. I let my index finger join the other two inside me, pushing in and out, loving the strain and stretching as I let my knees pull wider and spread myself obscenely open.

I was getting more excited as the sensations met with the erotic heat of what I was doing. I stared in fascination at my fingers disappearing into my body, pumping them in and out. I let my eyes flick down to my full breasts, glistening in the sun as my fingers distended them and my nipple sprang out so hard and thin and pink.

As my mind and body heated up they heated up each other, as well, my excitement driven by the sensations of what I was doing and also simply the daring of it. I'd never done this outside before, and something in my mind reveled in acting the nympho.

I let my knees fall so far to the sides the tendons in my thighs ached, then I drew them up and back against my body. I did yoga and Pilates and had a very lithe and flexible body. Now I pulled my knees back against my shoulders and worked first one arm, then the other, around them so they were lodged under my armpits.

God, this was slutty! This was the kind of obscene thing I saw on the internet, the kind of thing I was sure my voyeur neighbor would have loved to see! And the fact he was up there probably desperately waiting for me to go back on the diving board again filled me with a strange rush. Oh, where is she, he was wondering. Was I just laying around by the pool? Was I going to get up the diving board again?!

Ha!

If only he could imagine what I was doing!

I could see my pussy so much more closely here, and my fingers pumped in and out, twisting and turning as they did. I abandoned my breasts, using my left fingers to rub my clitoris now as I pumped my three middle fingers in and out of my glistening little opening.

I reached out to the side table, struck by another idea, another jolt of excitement. I picked up the bottle of skin lotion. It was a green plastic bottle that was actually about the thickness of a pretty thick cock. I slid my fingers out of my pussy and pushed the small neck into my pussy. I had to twist and turn and push harder to get the actual body of the thing in, but I managed.

Then I pushed it slowly, slowly down into my body, gulping in air and moaning aloud, staring in fascination at the sight of it as it disappeared, inch by inch. I could feel the cap as it pushed deeper, much deeper than my fingers. I switched hands, using my left to push it deeper while my more experienced right rubbed faster and faster at my clit.

I could feel the orgasm rising within me, could feel the pressure building, the pleasure growing. I pumped the bottle slowly in and out, gasping and whimpering as the sexual heat engulfed my mind and body. Then the orgasm hit and I cried out, suppressing the sound, lowering it to gurgling whimpers and moans as my hips bucked up violently against the bottle and my frantically rubbing fingers.

The orgasm was powerful, much more powerful than what I usually was able to give myself. I pushed the bottle as deep as I could, then relaxed, moaning, my fingers still rubbing my clitoris, but slower as my hips gave a final few convulsive jerks.

That... was so good!

I groaned and drew the bottle slowly up and out of my sex, setting it aside and then slowly unfolding my body. I sighed and lay along the lounger, sex fading from my mind, along with the old guy next door. Money and career and gigs and work and my general unhappiness returned.

I slid my hands over my breasts appreciatively, then got up and walked to the outdoor shower. I let it rinse over me, then soaped up and rinsed off again to remove the oil before drying myself and going back inside. I amused myself with the thought of how the potential employer I was going to interview with later would have reacted if he'd seen that.

It was... frustrating, I have to admit, to know how hot and sexy I was, and how eager all these guys would be about it, but having no real way to take economic advantage of that. And no, I wasn't going to become a stripper or some kind of online porn queen.

But to have such a great body and pretty face and nice hair and not be able to monetize it was deeply annoying given my lack of success in other areas.