Chapter One

 

Hot. Hot. Hot. Unspeakably hot. Obscenely hot. Ridiculously hot. Bleh. This was not a day to be outside riding around in the desert under the hot sun on my bike.

By desert, of course, I mean my suburban neighborhood of wide streets full of houses that look the same, scrawny little trees, and no sign of human habitation. Most days it looked like the apocalypse around here. As if everyone had become zombies or just died from some biological catastrophe. If anyone was outside it was in their back yards behind high fences.

The fences all looked the same, too. They were made of plastic and came in beige, dark beige, and light beige. Much like the various shades of brown the sharply modern houses came in.

But I wanted to relax by the pool with a Coke, and my mother wouldn't have the stuff around the house. My father, who paid the dental bills, agreed. I, who enjoyed having no responsibilities whatsoever, wanted what I wanted. And I wanted a fucking Coke!

Of course, there was nowhere within blocks to buy it. The zoning regulations kept every street a mirror image of every other street. To get to what they liked to call a 'convenience store' I had to drive several miles away. It might be convenient if you have a car. I had a bicycle.

Our family has two cars, mind you. One was with my father, downtown at work. The other was with my mom, who had gone shopping. She had refused to include Coke on her list. Which was why I was obstinately out in the hot, sweaty day on my bike going to buy my own.

Yes, it was a stupid thing to be doing on a day like this, but once I decided to do something it took more than common sense or reality to change my mind. I was already sweating before I got halfway there. And I was practically naked.

Don't get excited. For me, that meant shorts and a crop top. Neither were particularly revealing. The shorts were short, and the crop top was form-fitting, but neither showed much of anything. Leaning forward on the handlebars did pull my breasts down against the thin cotton, which did sort of pull the crew neck lower. But you'd have had to be right there, peering down it to see anything.

And no one was out but me. Except those in cars whizzing by with their windows up, blissfully enjoying their air-conditioning. Bastards.

I'd have a car one day, once I had a job. Not that I wanted a job, you understand. I liked my freedom, liked doing what I wanted, when I wanted to. As far as I could see jobs were thoroughly unpleasant, required you to get up early, dress in uncomfortable clothing, and go to unpleasant places to deal with unpleasant people. Jobs had few rewards other than the money. I just wanted the money.

I had no idea what I wanted to do in life other than have money. I was going to college to put off the day I had to get a job. My first year had been uninspiring. I'd taken general liberal arts, which was pretty much a little of everything. None of it had particularly thrilled me.

I could have gotten some kind of summer job, I suppose. But why would I want to? So I could pay for my own things? I much preferred my parents doing that so I could enjoy the summer. Not that I was enjoying it just this moment, mind, but I would be soon.

I was still getting an allowance. That was mildly embarrassing, but better than spending the day at a restaurant serving people food and bending over to show off my cleavage in hopes of getting a better tip. Ugh. There aren't a lot of jobs around here for people with no experience, skills or qualifications other than basic English and a disrespectful attitude. And none of them are pleasant.

The sun was beating down but the brim of my baseball cap shaded my eyes. My pony tail stuck out through the space above the strap and hung down my back, swaying back and forth as I pedaled and moved my head. This road was going uphill and I was panting in the heat. It was almost a hundred fucking degrees!

I reached the parking lot of the mini-mall and turned in. The Circle K was the first store and I propped my bike against the wall just below the window, then hesitated. I sighed and bent over, locking it. I was only going to be inside a few minutes but I have trust issues due to someone stealing my last bike.

Well, actually, I have trust issues with everything and everyone. Almost.

I sighed as I opened the door and the cool air washed over me. I walked inside and took my time sauntering along the aisles. It was late morning and the only other people in the store was the Indian guy behind the counter and one of his countrymen in a blue work shirt gossiping about something with him.

I'm not fond of foreigners. You might think that's racist but my preferences have nothing to do with skin color and everything to do with the way they look at me, the way they talk to me and the way they act around me.

Way too many of the ones from Africa, the Middle East or Asia seem to think any blonde girl is God's gift to them and is such a total slut and sex machine she couldn't possibly turn down their invitation to take her clothes off. You can add the ones from South America to that, too.

They didn't seem to grasp the idea that just because they express their approval of my looks that I wasn't then obligated to chat with them, much less give them my phone number and agree to let them fuck me. That goes for all men, by the way. It's not like I'm a cock-tease and it's not like I'm a bitch about saying no, but even so some of them get indignant that I dare to turn them down.

I get that it can be hard asking a girl out and embarrassing when you get turned down. Honestly, I get it. But try being hit on by strangers everywhere you go, whether it's the store, school, a bus stop or a bus, a doctor's waiting room, a park, a movie theater, or wherever. Some of these guys are twice my age, too!

I don't want to sound like an egotist here. I'm not the world's most beautiful girl. But I am young, athletic (toned), with a nice body and, I admit, a face that's prettier than most. And I'm blonde. Naturally blonde. I get looked at everywhere I go. Guys use me for eye candy in boring classes or waiting rooms or on buses or in a subway station. They check out my tits when I'm facing them and my ass when I'm moving away.

And like I said, I wasn't wearing much today. And the heat and sweat had kind of stretched my crop top a bit more. So it was now showing a little cleavage above, maybe an inch or two. That isn't much! Not in this country anyway. It'd probably get you arrested in the middle east, and mobbed in India.

My shorts were kind of low riding and had ridden a bit lower, just enough to show the edge of my thong strap. I tugged them up on that side to hide it. My finger almost unconsciously slid down past the waistband to push the thin string lower.

I liked wearing low-riding pants. I was proud of my midriff, of my concave belly. And unlike my boobs, it was acceptable to show it off. Well, in this country. Not so much in India, probably.

I delayed to let the cool air cool me off a bit more, then got several cans of coke from the fridge and carried them up to the front. I knew the Indian guy, though not by name, of course. And he recognized me, though he had no idea who I was. He probably just thought of me as the slutty blonde with nice tits.

"Hey," I said as he grinned at me.

I put the cans on the counter and slipped my bank card out of my back pocket.

I didn't look at the other guy who was on my left and who was, I knew, looking at me. The Indian guy swept my cans in front of the little machine that beeped each time and then I placed my card just above the reader until it beeped too. I flicked my eyes up to see him looking down my top from his elevated position but didn't make anything of it.

"Sugar and water cost a lot these days," he said in accented English.

You should see how much thongs have gone up, I felt like saying.

"Yeah, everything does," I replied.

I grabbed the cans and turned to leave, knowing they'd both be inspected my ass on the way out. That was routine, though. They were both in their forties, but every guy looks because I have a nice ass. I admit it. I play sports a lot and I'm fit and nineteen. I better damn well have a nice ass.

I went outside, the heat hitting me like a wave as I walked over to the bike. I have a little carrier satchel that hangs from under the seat in the back. I slipped the cans into it and then unlocked the bike before wheeling it around and heading back to the street.

The first part was downhill and I picked up speed along the way without too much effort. There was a red light not far from the bottom of the hill, which irritated me. This was a main road, but not a very busy one. The side roads were way less busy. They didn't need red lights. I didn't bother to slow. I could see very clearly there was no traffic so just went through them.

Stopping would mean starting again. Too much work.

I had to stop at the big crossroad. That's where the street I was on met an actual high volume, high speed four-lane road. The speed limit was fifty here, but no one did it. Most people did sixty, the more daring (or dumb) ones seventy.

This road was a great place for the cops to give out tickets. I saw them regularly, but it didn't seem to deter the speeders.

I waited there in the hot sun for what seemed like forever until the lights changed and the traffic slowed and stopped. Then I got on the bike and crossed the road. Guys in their cars watched me as I crossed in front of them.

That is what it's like to be an attractive girl. You get watched everywhere you go.

I headed down the street past the high school I had gone to, now closed for summer, then around the corner and down into the wasteland that is my neighborhood. Six blocks down I turned onto my street and then into my driveway. I drove down the path beside my house, though, letting the front tire push open the gate into the backyard.

We'd lived here for years, and there was a nice big shade tree in our backyard. There was also a deck and a pool. The pool wasn't one of those fancy ones dug into the ground, though. It was the cheap kind you just put together on top of the ground, with a plastic liner and sides. But it was reasonably big and deep for all that, and it was installed right next to the deck.

And with the pool there I was suddenly full of energy! I picked up speed and then jerked back on the handlebars as I reached the deck, lifting the front tire. The tire dropped down onto the edge of the third step, and I stood on the pedals to roll up to the fourth, then, grunting, and really putting in the effort, slowly forced the bike up to the fifth step and then the deck itself, where my fourteen-year-old brother Evan was sitting on a chaise lounge.

"You're not allowed to have your bike on the deck," he said.

"Show me the rule," I said, a little out of breath with the effort and definitely sweating more.

"Dad gave me shit for it."

"Well, he's not here, now is he."

I rolled the bike along the railing, then stopped, carefully balancing the bike as I pushed myself up. I got a knee onto the railing, then a foot, slowly standing up.

"You're not allowed to - ."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and tossed it to Evan as I jumped into the pool. The cool water felt wonderful as it closed over me!

The pool was fairly big for an above-ground model, oval-shaped. My father had dug out the ground at one end so it was six feet deep there, and about four feet at the other. I swam lazily underwater, turning slowly around and around before coming to the surface.

"Your phone is waterproof, you know," Evan said.

"Water resistant," I said. "And why take chances?

I peeled my sweaty crop top up over my head, squeezed the water out, then tossed it onto the deck. The bra underneath was a simple, basic cotton black. It was as much coverage as my bikini tops anyway. I wasn't going to pull my shorts off, though. I don't wear thong bathing suits in public. Or around my brother or father.

I did pull off my shoes and tossed them onto the deck, though, before throwing myself up and back into the water again and ducking underneath. I came back up with a sigh and swam to the edge, then climbed the stairs to the deck.

"Now that you're back, I'm going over to Michael's. Watch for the Amazon guy."

I shrugged and nodded and he trotted down the stairs to get his own bike, then headed out the gate.

We were expecting a delivery from Amazon. It was a part for the new home theater dad had built in the basement, and expensive. He didn't want porch pirates to make off with it so we had been told to keep checking. That wasn't as hard as it might seem. We had cameras on the corners of the house and all I had to do was check the app on my phone from time to time.

I stepped onto the deck, dripping wet, then slipped off my shorts and wrung them out too. I reached up and back and squeezed my down on my head, then slowly gathered in my hair and ran my closed fingers along it as water trickled down my back and onto the deck. I picked up my crop top and phone and slid the door back to step inside, and the cool air washed over me.

I went through the living room and took the stairs two at a time then turned into my room and tossed the crop top and shorts in the hamper inside my closet. I reached back and undid my bra, tossing it in too, then slid my thong off and tossed it in, as well.

Naked, I stepped out of the room and went up the hall to the bathroom, then went inside and pulled a towel out of the cupboard, wrapping it around my head first, then toweling off. I wasn't very thorough since I intended to go back into the pool. I just didn't want to be dripping on everything as I moved around.

I put the towel in the bathroom hamper then got a dry one and went back into my room. I tossed it on the double bed, then went to my dresser and got out one of my bikinis. I brought it back to the bed, then stepped into the bottom, pulling it up my legs and adjusting it around my hips. It wasn't a thong, but it was cheeky.

I picked up the bra and turned around, pulling it around myself under my breasts, then looking down to do the clasp. That done, I slid the fabric back around so the clasp was at my back, then pulled up first the right strap, then the left, sliding them over my shoulders. Then I adjusted my breasts in the cups before looking up.

Into the window of the house across the street, which had been empty for at least two years. Only it wasn't empty now. There was a guy there in the window looking across at me. He wasn't doing anything. He was just casually standing in what had to be the master bedroom because the window was huge, and went from below his knees to almost the ceiling, just like the one in my parents' room.

He was maybe thirty or so and didn't seem at all embarrassed at being caught looking at me. He just grinned and gave me the thumbs-up sign.

Holy fuck!

I gasped and felt my face redden as I hurriedly turned away from my window and moved back to where he couldn't see me! My heart was suddenly pounding and my face was hot and red as I thought of what he must have just seen!

I didn't think he'd seen my pussy since I'd had my back to the window when putting it on, but he'd sure seen my tits pretty free and clear! And sure, I have nice breasts. I'm proud of them, even if they're mostly the result of DNA and youth. But I don't go showing them off to strange men!

I mean OMG!

I had kind of forgotten that the house right behind ours, with windows looking straight into our windows even existed except as shade in the mornings! They gave these houses huge picture windows and then put them so close together that all the people can see is the person behind them moving around in their house!

One of the reasons my dad had put the shade tree up was to give us some privacy from the house to our left and the ones past them. It worked great at that. It would also give privacy for when you were on the deck and in the pool from the house this guy was now in. It would also hide my parents' window from him, but because the tree was off to the side it didn't hide me.

I was going to have to make sure the curtains were drawn when I got undressed from now on! I couldn't even really complain. All he'd been doing had been standing in his window looking out. It wasn't like he had expected me to come to my window naked. And what kind of a guy was going to duck back away from the window because they could suddenly see a hot chick naked?

He hadn't been bad looking. He'd been cheerful and, given the circumstances, kind of cocky waving and giving me the thumbs up. I felt like I needed to do something to convey my displeasure to him. So I went back to the window and gave him an entirely different finger.

I guess he had half expected me to look out again. He had taken off his top and, shirtless, he made an exaggerated pose, like you know when guys pull their arms up and make a muscle in their biceps? Then he half turned away, throwing one arm out in front of him and the other behind him, posing again.

I scowled. This guy was enjoying himself too much at my expense! I gave him the finger and he grinned and waved again.

Men! Guys!

I moved away from the window, shaking my head, still embarrassed. Men were all perves. That was just the way of life. He had been pretty fucking well-built, though. I had to give him that. No wonder he hadn't been embarrassed showing himself off. Guys rarely were, though, unlike girls.

Not that I hadn't kind of gotten used to it by now. When I hit puberty it felt extremely uncomfortable being in my body. I had not wanted the male attention it started to draw and had been embarrassed and uncomfortable with it. But years went by and I got used to it, and even began to enjoy the attention, not to mention the sexual power it gave me.

I went back downstairs and out onto the deck, warily looking over at his house now. The tree blocked the view of the deck, and part of the pool. Most of the pool would be visible to him, though. Of course, I'd be in the water, then, so there wouldn't be much of anything for him to see.

Anyway, I wasn't going to let this screw up my desire to lounge by the pool with a coke. So a guy had seen me naked, or almost completely naked. So? I had a great body. Every guy who saw it said so. Not that a lot had. But the reviews were pretty good. I could compare myself with what I saw on the internet that guys lusted after pretty easily too.

I had nothing to be ashamed of, in other words. And I didn't know this guy and would probably never see him again. Because for sure I'd keep my curtains closed from now on! At least the lace ones.

I checked my phone's app to see if Amazon had delivered anything, then got the cokes out of the satchel on the bike and brought them inside. I went into the kitchen and popped the tab on one, then got a big plastic cup and stuck it into the ice dispenser of the fridge. I took that and the coke out back and settled briefly on the chaise lounge, still kind of worked up about accidentally baring myself to a strange man.

I know this is going to sound a little odd, but I was pissed off at how ragged-assed my hair had been. I mean, if someone was going to see me naked I at least wanted to look my best! Especially if it was a guy, a hot guy. I mean, he wasn't so much a guy as a man, but the principle is the same.