Landslide (22 page)

She arched her back, oblivious to my spying eyes, and met her climax with a shudder. I found my own release at that moment and wondered what it would be like to feel that pleasure while coming all over her body. That could only happen if she knew I existed, and tonight she would.

You would be surprised at how easy it was to find personal information on someone when you had a small amount of information, the internet, and a bit of money.

Her driver’s license described her as five foot five, 115 pounds with brown hair and brown eyes. That official document did her no justice. What it failed to mention was that, though not tall, her legs were long and toned, her breasts were ample for a girl her size, and her hair that was identified as “brown” had strands in it that looked like gold when the sun hit it just right.

The document also described her as “white,” which was completely untrue. As a professional who worked in an office building, her complexion was on the paler side—more of a creamy ivory that resembled porcelain, than “white.” And, if the few photos I’d found of her on a social networking site of a trip she’d taken to Florida were any indication, her skin turned to a golden bronze if given the opportunity.

Rebecca Ann Summers was twenty-seven-years-old. She’d attended The Chicago Institute of Design, graduated with a GPA of 3.8, and immediately began working at
Voltz Games. She lived in a one-bedroom apartment on the fourteenth floor of a twenty-six story apartment building in Chicago. She was an only child, and her favorite flavor of yogurt was strawberry banana.

Of course, I also knew her social security number, family and job history, and had access to her medical records through the personnel files at our company. Among a multitude of other things, I had her phone number, as well.

Rebecca was unusual for a person her age because she had both a cell phone and a land line—tonight I was calling her landline. Picking up the phone, I dialed the numbers I had committed to memory. I watched as she climbed from the bed and answered the phone. Though I’d already had my number blocked, I loved that she didn’t even bother to look at the caller ID.

“Hello,” she said, still out of breath from her orgasm.

“That was beautiful, butterfly.”

I hung up the phone without saying any more.

She looked around the apartment quickly and then out the window. I followed with my eyes as she walked toward the large pane of glass and stared out into the night. The lights were off in my apartment, and I knew that she couldn’t see in, but I was sure that many of the lights would still be on in the other apartments in my building, drawing her attention.

She shrugged and headed back to bed, apparently dismissing the call. I continued to observe her until her breathing slowed and she was asleep.

Chapter 2

butterfly

There I was, nearly twenty-four hours after the mysterious phone call, lying in bed with my favorite toy at my fingertips. I masturbated almost every night. Though I didn't always pleasure myself in the same way or use the same toy, I usually did it in my bed with my curtains wide open. I guess you could say I was a bit of an exhibitionist. I lived on the fourteenth floor of a large apartment building where the western wall was entirely made of glass. Now, I wasn’t crazy. Though I liked to fuck with the curtains wide open, I kept my lights off. I could see out, but no one could see in. It was erotic, yet safe.

The first time it happened was an accident, really. I’d been sitting in the living room reading a romantic novel, and my hand slipped up into my shirt. My fingers lazily played with my nipple, rubbing and gently tugging while I read. I wasn’t sure how long I was like that, but when I looked up, it had grown dark outside and I realized that anyone could see right into my apartment since I had the lights on.

I pulled my hand quickly from my top and glanced around nervously to see if any of the people in the apartment building across the street had seen me. As I scanned the apartments, I saw a man quickly turn and look away. There was an obvious bulge in his sleep pants.

I should have been upset, mortified even, but instead, I felt wetness gather between my legs. I ran to the shower to wash away my shameful response, but ended up pleasuring myself under the scalding water, imagining him jerking off to the sight of me masturbating.

For weeks after that, I’d imagine different guys watching me finger fuck myself while I was in the shower. I imagined being a stripper at a club where men would get aroused by my dancing. Hell, I even imagined being in one of those peep show rooms I had read about, where women have sex and men pay to keep the curtain open. I imagined it all.

Yet imagining wasn’t enough, and though I didn’t have the courage to
actually
do it, I compromised by masturbating with the curtains open and the lights off. I knew in theory that people couldn’t see me, but I could see them, and that was hot.

I’d been doing it for over a year now, and I loved it each and every time. That guy I’d seen the first time had moved out a while back, but it didn’t matter; it was the idea that someone—a complete stranger—could be watching me that got me off.

As I lay there thinking about all the people in the apartments across the boulevard from mine, I let my hand slip up inside my top. What if the call last night hadn’t been a wrong number? My nipple got hard beneath my fingertips at the mere thought. What if there had been a man actually spying on me? I gave my sensitive skin a gentle tug. What if he was looking at me now? I tugged harder, moaning in pleasure.

It had been over two years since I'd had a boyfriend, and at that time, I had no idea what I liked in bed.

Since then, I'd learned a lot about what I liked from pleasuring myself. One thing that I seemed to love was a bit of pain with my pleasure.

My other hand moved lower and slipped in between my slick folds. I groaned in pleasure. I wasn't surprised that my fingers found my clit slightly swollen, or that within a minute, it was throbbing. Like I said, I
knew what I liked, and imagining that man—my midnight caller—watching me was definitely helping.

My fingers picked up the pace, and the gentle rubbing of my clit turned to rapid flicking and finally to rough tugging of the over sensitive bud. I grabbed for my toy and turned it on. Without playing around, I thrust it into my dripping pussy. I began pounding it into myself, causing my back to arch and a light perspiration to cover my skin. I felt my climax start to build, and I slowed my pace to drag it out a bit longer. After a few more torturous minutes, I fell over the edge.

I lay there panting with a cheesy grin on my face, enjoying the post orgasmic high. Lazily, I glanced over at the phone. See, nothing to worry about. Just as the thought popped into my head, the phone began to ring.

I considered not picking it up, but I wasn’t a coward. I took a deep breath, slowly picked up the receiver and brought it to my ear.

"That was beautiful, butterfly."

“Wait, who is this?" I yelled into the phone.

I heard a chuckle and then a click.

"Hello…hello?”

I sat there staring at the phone for a full minute before I moved. My mind, which had been numb, began to race. This was not a wrong number. It was too coincidental. Someone was watching me, or listening to me! I ran to my window and drew the curtain closed. My heart was racing in my chest, and despite the fact that I had always fantasized about someone watching me, now that it seemed like it was happening, I was scared. Yet it thrilled me, too. Much to my surprise, I realized that the wetness between my thighs had increased since my orgasm, not decreased.

Not knowing what else to do, I climbed back into bed, tossing and turning while sleep eluded me. There were very few times I wished I had a boyfriend, but this was one of them. There was some comfort to having a man in your house at night, but if I was being honest with myself, other than that, I really had no use for a man…not any man I’d ever met anyway.

At first I thought it was just the boys in the small town I grew up in. They were simple, juvenile, and interested in one thing: sex. It’s not that I wasn’t curious about sex when I was a teenager, it just wasn’t my obsession.

I had dated, though my parents made me wait until I was sixteen. Having a marine for a dad will do that to you. I went out with a few boys, but Danny Wilson was my first real boyfriend. I dated him for about three months when I was sixteen and a half.

Danny had given me my first kiss at a bonfire in the spring. I waited to feel that spark, that electrical current everyone talks about, but that part never happened. On his seventeenth birthday, we went to a movie and he told me that all he wanted for his birthday was to get to second base. I’d been raised to please, so even though I didn’t really want to, I allowed him to put his hands up my shirt. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting from him, but what he did wasn’t it. His hands fumbled while trying to unhook my bra, but when that didn’t work, he just pushed it aside.

There were no tender caresses, no gentle stimulation. He squeezed my breasts with great force and pinched my nipples hard. I moaned in pain and he mistook it as pleasure. He whispered to me that I was the perfect girlfriend. Of course, two weeks later, when I wouldn’t give him head, he called me a tease. That was our last date.

I had dated a few other guys in high school, including the man I gave my virginity to, Tom Batelli. Tom and I dated my entire senior year. We went to prom together, and following the after party one of my classmates threw, where I’d had quite a bit to drink, he took me to a hotel room. The room was very romantic—cheesy, but romantic. Neither one of us knew what we were doing really. I mean, Tom wasn’t a virgin, but he really had no experience. The entire ‘event’ lasted fifteen minutes. It hurt and I hadn’t enjoyed it at all, but we thought we loved each other and would be together forever.

We had had sex a few more times before the end of the school year, and after promising to love each other forever, he headed off to Penn State while I went to Chicago. Our ‘forever’ lasted about three weeks before Tom called and announced that he’d found his true love and had to let me go. I was devastated. The only consolation I found was when I heard from a mutual friend back home that Tom had walked in on his new true love getting the shit fucked out of her by his roommate. Apparently, Tom was a means to an end.

Life went on, as did my dating, despite me never falling in love and the death of my parents when I was nineteen. By the time I was twenty-five, though, I’d had enough. The men I’d dated were all plain, boring, and only interested in sex—bad sex, at that. I found that I enjoyed sex more when they weren’t around than when they were. Once that fact sunk in, I never bothered with a boyfriend again.

I hadn’t even thought about a boyfriend until I heard my midnight caller’s voice on the phone tonight. There was something about it that shot straight through me to my core and made me tingle.

It was well after midnight when I finally fell into a restless sleep riddled with thoughts of my midnight caller.

Chapter 3

Sir

I watched as she gave her clit one last tug before resting her hand gently at her side. The sight made my cock twitch, despite the fact that I had come only moments before when my butterfly had reached her climax.

She lay there panting with the most beautiful smile on her face. I watched as she glanced at the phone. A smile matching hers spread across my face, knowing that she was thinking of me. I had made an impact last night.

Dialing the numbers again, I watched as she scrambled, then hesitated before answering the phone.

“That was beautiful, butterfly,” I said in a soft whisper.

“Wait, who is this?” she yelled into the phone.

I should have been upset with her words, her tone. It was not at all sub-like behavior, but something about it amused me and I couldn’t help but chuckle. After all, it just meant that I would have more training to do with her. If punishable was what I wanted, she was a dream come true.

She hung up the phone and cautiously walked to the window. I could see her searching the windows in the building across the street. She wouldn’t find me. I was there, but my lights were off just like hers. And unlike me, she couldn’t see in the dark.

After a few more moments of scanning the area, she pulled the curtains closed.

I didn’t like that she closed them. I would miss watching her fall asleep, which, although nothing when compared to the rapture of her orgasm, was beautiful in its own right.

Not wanting to miss anything more, I decided to get closer to her. It took me less than a minute to get from my apartment to the empty apartment I had recently acquired next door to hers. It had belonged to a single mother of a four-year-old. When I told her that the apartment had sentimental value to me and offered her ten thousand dollars and moving expenses for it, she was more than happy to relocate across town to rent a small house with a big yard. I knew the purchase was ostentatious, but I had an obscene amount of money, and spending it so that I could listen to my butterfly sleep was worth it.

The penthouse apartment that I had just secured yesterday was also going to be worth it. I planned to go check it out once I was sure butterfly was asleep. Listening closely, I heard her toss and turn in her bed until her breathing finally evened out. Her inability to fall asleep as quickly as she usually did made me smile, knowing I’d gotten to her.

When I was sure that she was asleep, I headed up to the penthouse. The elevator doors opened directly into the living room. Walking into the empty space, my footsteps echoed off the dark cherry floor and the floor to ceiling windows. I toured the empty house quickly, determining uses for each room. As I did so, I thought briefly about what it would be like to have a live-in submissive. The small room off the master suite would serve as a perfect room for a pet; she would be available any time I summoned her to serve me. I thought about the many uses for the
playroom, which I would have built out of the guest room with en suite bathroom.

Though it was completely empty now, it wouldn’t be for long. In fact, I had mentioned this place to Payton, a fellow Domme, as we had been friends for decades. Although she wasn’t an interior designer, she knew my preferences and had impeccable taste. I knew if I went with her, I would have this place furnished within a week.

Payton was definitely an enigma. She was a tiny thing, with shoulder length auburn hair, weighing barely a hundred pounds, but was the toughest Domme that I knew. Her sub—her husband, Caleb—whose tall, lanky frame towered over her by more than a foot, would instantly drop to his knees whenever she commanded.

I’d invited her to meet me here to go over what I wanted, so I wasn’t surprised when she appeared on my balcony.

“I got you a key,” I said, laughing as I opened the French doors, allowing her in to show her around.

“Will this new place have a playroom?” she asked with a smirk after touring the penthouse.
Her emerald green eyes were sparkling as she talked excitedly, but I’d seen them flash a deeper shade when she slipped into Domme mode.

“Of course,” I replied. “Please use the guest room just to the left of the front door. I’d like the room to have a red door and my usual equipment. Other than that, you may have free rein of the place.”

“Why the move? There isn’t a problem with Gretchen is there? I thought she was the perfect sub.”

She knew that I always got a new playroom and new equipment when I changed subs.

“There is no more Gretchen.”

“Oh,” she said with a laugh. “Oliver Durant, have you found yourself a new toy?”

“She’s not a toy!” I snapped defensively.

“Lighten up, Ollie,” Payton teased, tapping her foot. “God how I would love to get you on my whipping bench and loosen you up a bit. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a session with me? It’s good for Doms every now and then.”

“Payton, I’m not Shane. I’m not a switch.”

Shane was also a Dom. His submissive—my sister, Sydney—while extremely professional in her everyday interactions, wanted nothing more than to just let go in the playroom. It made her a perfect sub. I understood what Shane saw in her. She was gorgeous with her jet-black hair, baby blue eyes and amazing body, but even if she wasn’t my sister, the fact that she was so uptight outside of the playroom would have turned me off.

“You should have seen him earlier. I had him bound and bent over the whipping bench. I was flogging him hard.”

Her words triggered memories of times in the club when I had seen Shane bound as Payton flogged him. When I shot her a dirty look, she just shrugged her shoulders and smirked.

“And little girl was there too, demonstrating her oral skills.”

Payton had a second submissive she called little girl. Unlike Caleb, whom she had a relationship with outside the playroom, little girl stayed as a submissive twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She belonged
to Payton, but Shane sometimes used her in his scenes, and Caleb was responsible to see that she was kept in good condition for her Mistress.  

“Sydney always says that Shane is the best Dom after a good session with me. Let me know if you change your mind, or if you want any help with your new
pet.
”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” I knew Payton meant well, but I wasn’t anywhere near ready to share.

“What’s her name?”

“Rebecca Summers, but I call her butterfly.”

“Human?”

I nodded.

“You know I’ll help you with anything, Oliver, but I just don’t understand why you can’t stick with our kind.”

Our kind was an entirely different species, originating from a planet in another galaxy. Though we physically appeared the same as humans, we were more similar to the trees of Earth in our biology than any mammal on the planet. One
small
difference in our appearance was that the pigment in the cells on the surface of our skin reacted to sunlight, creating tattoo-like patterns. As with the leaves on the trees, these markings could change with seasons and circumstances—sometimes to warn of danger, other times simply to identify a child as belonging to a particular set of mated Bocaj, who would also bear an identical mark.

The greatest difference between our kind and humans, besides the fact that we absorbed the energy needed to sustain life from the sun and the small amount of food and water we consumed, was that
our
lifecycle was more comparable to that of a redwood tree. The average life expectancy for my species was nearly two thousand years.

On our home planet of Salocin, which was much farther from our sun than the earth was from her own, we had been required to eat often, as that was our primary source of energy. Because of this, we evolved into lethal predators—the top of the food chain. Though, as with many species, we exhausted our food source. With the technology to leave our planet at our fingertips, some of us chose to make the long journey to Earth.

We were surprised at the effect being closer to the sun had on us. Drawing the majority of our energy from it, there was no longer a need to feed as frequently. We still hunted though, as it was in our nature; tracking down and killing was what made us feel complete.

We kept to ourselves, feeding mostly on small animals and fish, as we needed less and less actual food to survive. Getting sustenance was simple since we had several weapons at our disposal. Our hearing and sight were on par with an owl, our speed was faster than a cheetah, and our strength rivaled that of a mountain gorilla.

We had other characteristics that made us superior, too. Like most plants, we had the capability to remain still for days, we didn’t need to sleep, and we had the ability to regenerate over time. Because of this, our skin was almost flawless—minor scratches healed in seconds, larger abrasions in minutes, and lost appendages would grow back in a matter of days.

Our most deadly weapon was a toxin similar to that of a snake. Paralyzing our prey and giving us the time needed to ingest them, it had
been crucial on our planet because the animals were much more lethal than the ones on Earth.

The animals here reacted to our toxin similarly to the animals of Salocin. The only exception to that were the humans. Yes they were paralyzed and most of them died, but some—the strong, if left alone and not consumed—actually absorbed the toxin, which began to flow in their veins. It was much more efficient than blood; their hearts would cease to beat and their lungs were rendered useless.

Even after only a few months, infected humans appeared so much like the Bocaj that, at first glance, there was virtually no way to tell them apart. Our kind, as well as the altered humans, had assimilated into society over time, spreading out all over the globe and fitting in as normal people.

Because of our interactions, I’d discovered how much pleasure I got from human females. I felt a draw to them—a need to dominate. Payton couldn’t explain her draw toward Caleb anymore than I could explain my draw toward humans. It’s just how it was; nothing would help her understand why I needed to do this. I didn’t even understand it myself.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I started the next day watching Rebecca work by looking at the surveillance cameras in the security office. Nothing seemed different about her, but I knew otherwise.

It wasn’t so much what she had done last night—it was more what she didn’t do. She didn’t call the police. True, I’d used a secure phone. Untraceable. But she didn’t know that.

Her father had been a Sergeant Major in the Marines, so she would have known how to call and file a report. She hadn’t called the police for
one reason, and that reason was the simple fact that my call had thrilled her.

I watched her eat her lunch on the small black and white screen. I could watch her all day, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to be near her, interact with her.

I knew it was much too soon for Sir and butterfly to interact, but perhaps I could speak to her as Oliver.

I picked up my phone and made a call. “I want in on the wrestling game.”

“Ollie, what’s up with that?” Shane laughed.

“Nothing, I just
wanna get my hands in something again. You want help or not?”

“Yeah, sure. It will be great!”

“You have the editing team set up yet?”

“No, why?”

“I have someone specific in mind. I’ll call Ms. Lancaster and set it up.”

“What aren’t you telling me? Why the sudden interest?”

“No reason. I just feel like drawing for video games again,” I answered.

“Oliver, don’t bullshit me. I’m glad we’re working together, but what is this about? Is this about a woman?”

I considered lying, but decided honesty was the best policy. “Of course it’s about a woman, Shane. Isn’t it
always
about a woman?”

After calling Ms. Lancaster and leaving her and Shane to work out the details of the project so that it included Rebecca and myself, I returned
my focus to the small screen. I watched her until she left for the day, then headed home to continue my observations.

She had been home for thirty minutes and had yet to open her curtains. This did not discourage me; I took it as a challenge. I knew she was aroused by the idea of me watching. Even from across the street, I saw her pupils dilate and her pulse pick up when I had called. True, it could have been fear, but fear would have resulted in a phone call to the police, not a night of restless sleep filled with erotic dreams.

Yes, my butterfly had the habit of moaning in her sleep.

I could tell from the lighting that she was currently in her bathroom. Having yet to see her shower, as she always kept her bathroom shades closed, I had to use my imagination.

I wasn’t surprised when the bathroom light flicked off and she didn’t open her bedroom curtains, but I was surprised that she was going straight to bed. Every so often she did this, preferring to have a night in her pajamas while simply reading in bed. However, her reading would often arouse her and lead to masturbation.

She had never done this with the curtains closed, and I knew it was no coincidence. It was time to see how much of an exhibitionist she truly was, and how receptive she was to pleasing me.