It was a fine, sunny Tuesday afternoon. Jack, who had been busy since early setting up his new pad, threw another collapsed carton onto the stack, screwed up some more packing paper and stuffed it into an almost full bag. He straightened, hands on hips and flexed backwards. He looked out through the kitchen window onto the rear lawn. The sky was a brilliant blue, a gentle breeze appeared to fondle the leaves of the trees. He used the side of his finger to wipe the sweat from his brow and uttered a mild expletive concerning the amount of work still to be done. In fact it really wasn’t that much; he had well and truly broken the back of it. There were perhaps three more cartons to unpack. Mind you that was mainly kitchen stuff, which always took so much longer.
He opened the fridge. “It’s a bit early but … what the hell!” he grabbed a can of beer snapped the ring pull back and took a deep draught. He placed the beer on the kitchen bench and wandered off to the linen cupboard and grabbed a beach towel. He threw it over his shoulder and wandered out into the back garden. He opened the rear door to his garage, reached inside and pulled out a banana lounge. Choosing the best sun angle, he set it up and lay the towel out upon it. The small back yard was great. Big enough to have a few people around for a BBQ, small enough that gardening would take little of his time and effort; and it was private. He looked around the small backyard checking the sight-lines. It was as he had remembered from his first inspection of the property, he could not be overlooked. There were no double storey buildings in the vicinity, the yard backed onto the ivy covered rear wall of a neighbour’s garage and the two timber side fences were at least six foot high.
He returned indoors, drained the remaining beer from the can, pitched it in the trash, grabbed another and then, on the way back out, picked up a file of materials relating to the new job he’d just taken on. He returned to the back garden, slipped out of his shorts and lay back to enjoy the sun.
Jack Ramsay was a man on the move. Twenty seven years of age, fit, active, good looking. He had once seriously considered playing football professionally. He still ran and worked out almost as hard as he had back then. Instead of football he had gone to university and studied mining engineering. He had had the good fortune to be picked up by a junior miner fresh out of university. It hadn’t taken him long to make his mark. He was rewarded for his positive, can-do attitude with the offer of this new project management role, based in Brisbane but with significant exposure to the mine site on a fly-in/fly-out basis. The file he had taken to read was all about the new mine that had recently received the go-ahead from the board.
As interested as he was in the new job, the reading was drearily bland. He lay the file beside him on the lawn and took another sip of beer. He pushed his sun glasses up his nose and lay back. This was the life. Jack new that sun bathing was frowned upon by the medical profession these days but, with his olive complexion, his skin tanned readily and, providing he built up slowly each season, he never seemed to burn.
His reverie was broken by a sound over to his right. It wasn’t loud, he barely heard it, but hear it he did, and it was incongruous. He glanced at the fence from where he thought the sound had come, and he noticed a hole. It appeared to be the sort of hole that is caused when a knot in the wood dries out and falls out of the plank. There was light behind the hole and then, suddenly it became dark. Something, or someone was behind it! Was he being spied upon? Who lived next door to him? He didn’t know, although, come to think of it he had heard singing coming from that side this morning. It had sounded like a young woman, perhaps singing in the shower. He didn’t move or give any sign that he may have been aware that he was under observation; he just continued to gaze straight ahead, watching the hole in the fence out of the corner of his eyes. With his sunglasses on, anyone watching him wouldn’t know he was watching back.
After two or three minutes there came again that same sound, a slight creaking of the fence timber, and then the light returned to the knothole. He continued to watch but no shadow returned to it. He smiled to himself. Some little while later he went back inside and continued with the unpacking.
The following day he was alert to the sounds that came to him from his neighbours. There was none from the little house to the right, but from the left he again heard singing. He found he could hear it clearest from his bathroom and wondered if the house next door had its bathroom next to his. In any case, she had a pretty voice, he thought.
Later that morning he took a small load of odds and ends out to his garage. As he closed the door he heard the unmistakeable sound of a banana lounge being opened and adjusted. He felt a small thrill of excitement as an idea entered his head. He waited, giving time for her to settle then, ever so carefully, made his way to the knothole. Barely breathing he bent over and lined up his eye with the hole. He hadn’t made a sound, he was sure. He focussed his eye. There she was! The banana lounge was set at approximately forty five degrees to his line of sight. She lay upon it, naked. The leg closest to him was slightly raised, concealing her most intimate aspect. She was decidedly attractive, about 24, he fancied. Tawny hair, worn long and fashionably bedraggled, hung in lightly curling tresses to her shoulders. Her breasts were full, beautifully shaped, turned slightly outwards and peaked by pink nipples. Her skin was fair but carried enough of an even tan to suggest this was not the first time she had lain there. She was trim. ‘Trim taut and terrific!’ Jack grinned recollecting the phrase his father used to use.
The girl pushed herself up a little on the lounge so she was sitting up. She sat cross legged. Again the leg prevented even a glimpse. Clearly unaware of the eye observing her, she began to cup her breasts in her hands and massage them. Jack was very conscious of the illicit nature of his voyeurism, but that simply added to the piquancy of the moment. He was also very aware of the rapidly growing erection in his shorts. He cautioned himself to remain vigilant against making any sound that might give him away.
She slid down in the lounge and turned onto her side revealing her bottom to his eager eye. She picked up a magazine and began to read it while her left hand caressed her rump. This continued for what must have been less than a minute when she threw down the magazine and sat up again, clearly bored with the reading material. She stretched, rolling her shoulders back and accentuating the shapeliness of her breasts. Then suddenly, to Jack’s horror, she turned her face full toward him and called out:
“Well, d’you want to come over for a cup of coffee?” He stood up and reeled backwards. He was, for just an instant, guilt stricken — caught in the act, as he was, but his equilibrium was restored at the almost simultaneous realisation that it had all been a show for his benefit anyway! Nevertheless he was too slow to prevent an embarrassed cough from escaping his lips. He heard her giggle in response. “Well …” she called out, “do you? To his annoyance he found himself coughing again.
“Er yes … er thank you. That would be nice.”
“Well, okay then, you’d better come to the front door.”
“Yeah sure; see you in a minute then.”
He couldn’t believe this. She knew he was watching her and she wanted him to come over! He could feel the excitement in the pit of his stomach. His hard-on, which had subsided somewhat with the initial embarrassment of discovery, was now recovering quite nicely, thank you! He stumbled in through his back door, quickly checked himself in the bathroom mirror, ran a comb through his hair, applied a little deodorant (to be on the safe side), checked his teeth and gave them a very quick scrub with his toothbrush. Satisfied, though dressed only in shorts and tee shirt, he picked up his keys and scooted out the front door.
He knocked on hers. She opened it almost immediately. She had put on a bikini top which, if anything, accentuated the shapeliness of her breasts, and a sarong. She smiled at him.
“Come in.” He stepped through the door and she led the way to the kitchen. “Tea, coffee, something else?”
“Er coffee would be great. Er thanks.” Jack hated his diffidence. Why could he not be more suave? She put water in the kettle, put it on its stand and switched it on. She turned and, smiling brightly, stuck out her hand.
“Hi, I’m Nikki.”
“Oh, er Jack.” He tried to match her smile as he took her hand and look her in the eye. It was a little difficult because he knew he just so wanted to fuck her and, if the eyes are the windows to the soul, she couldn’t miss seeing that!
“So, just moved in?”
“Yeah, furniture arrived Saturday afternoon.”
“Are you new to the area?”
“Yeah, I’m up from Melbourne — work.”
“Oh, okay, what do you do?
“Oh project management sort of stuff.”
“Oh, okay, cool.”
She turned around and busied herself with cups and spoons, coffee and sugar, and reached into the fridge for the milk. Jack perched his rump on a stool at the kitchen bench and watched her, drinking in every detail. He loved the square set of her shoulders, the two ends of the string of her bikini fell from the knot into the natural hollow in her lower back. He liked the narrow waist and the flare of her hips. The sarong was loosely tied and had settled at the top of her bikini bottom, revealing the beginning of the cleft between her buttocks. Jack had no doubt that lust was colouring his perceptions but, nevertheless, she was definitely a bit of alright — another of his father’s sayings!
Soon they were sitting side by side on the couch, their cups on the coffee table. They sipped their coffee. Neither seemed to know quite what to say. A moment or two of awkward silence was finally broken by Nikki.
“So, you found the knothole.”
“Ha ha, yes. But only because you showed it to me.” She looked enquiringly at him with feigned innocence. “Oh I know you were there yesterday afternoon” he continued, beginning to enjoy this little bit of game play. She glanced down with a little smile and may just have blushed, ever so faintly.
“So, did you Like what you saw?” she asked coquettishly.
“Oh yes!” he breathed.
“Want to see more?”
“Oh yes!” he breathed. Her hands went behind her, reaching for the knot of her bikini string when the doorbell rang.
“Oh no!” he breathed.
“Oh, shit!” she said. “Just hang on, okay?” She got up and went to the door.
Voices off, then, a moment later she reappeared trailed by a rather large middle aged woman. The middle aged woman stopped short when she saw Jack and glowered at him.
“Joanne, this is er, did you say Jack?” He nodded. “Jack, right, this is Joanne, my mother-in-law. Jack is a gardener. I asked him to call over and give me a quote to do some work in the garden.”
“Garden?” Scoffed Joanne. “It’s only the size of a postage stamp!”
“Yes, but I’m planning some beds to grow vegetables and I don’t want to do all that digging.”
“You should get Dale to do it.”
“Dale? Dale’s not going to do it. When he gets back he’s got one … well, he’s got two or three things on his mind, but none of them have anything to do with gardening!”
“Anyway, er Nikki,” said Jack standing up, “I think I’ve enough to be going on with for now. I think I know what you’re trying to achieve and I’ve got a couple of ideas of what we could do. I’ll go and sketch them up and put some numbers around them and give you an estimate, okay? Oh, and perhaps you’d better give me your phone number.”
“Oh, yeah.” Nikki went to the kitchen bench, found a pen and paper, scribbled the number down and gave it to Jack.
“Okay, I’ll be off. Have a nice afternoon ladies.” With that he made for the door. Nikki followed him. He opened the door, stepped out, turned around.
“Nice one, Jack, well done!” she whispered. “Call me.” He winked at her, turned and left.
Jack was frustrated. God, he was nearly there! But, mother-in-law? Dale? This was all beginning to look a little dicey. He grabbed his kit bag and towel, threw it in the car and headed off to investigate a gym he had noticed a couple of days back.
After a good workout and a swim Jack felt a good deal better. He always did. When he left the gym he decided to take a drive around and explore his new environment. It was 6.30 by the time he got home. He threw his kit in the laundry and went and showered, shaved and rolled on some deodorant. It was still warm and humid — not like Melbourne. He pulled on a pair of shorts and a light cotton shirt, grabbed a beer and sat down to think. What was he going to do about the Nikki situation? He wasn’t sure he wanted to get involved with a married woman. Still, she was damned attractive and she seemed to be pretty keen. Still undecided he was reaching for the remote control to watch the seven o’clock news when there came a knock on his door.
“Hiya.” It was Nikki.
“Sorry about earlier.”
“Have you eaten?”
“No, not yet.”
“Want to come to mine for dinner?” If Jack hesitated it was for a nanosecond.
“Yeah, thanks, that would be great. Haven’t got my kitchen sorted yet.”
“C’mon then. If you’ve got any more of those beers, bring them.” He glanced down, he hadn’t even realised he was still holding his can.
“Okay, hang on. He strode to the kitchen, opened the fridge and grabbed a six pack, picked up his keys and followed her to her door.
Dinner was a simple affair, Jack didn’t particularly remember what they ate, but then dinner was hardly the focus of his attention!
“Gee you did well with that gardening story I dropped in your lap earlier.”
“Was a bit out of left field!”
“Yeah sorry about that. Fuckin’ Joanne! God she’s a nosy bitch. I’m still not sure we convinced her.”
“So, married eh?”
“Yeah, but it’s cool. Dale’s sorta okay about it.”
“So, where’s he?”
“He works up north in the mines, fly-in/fly-out. He’s fourteen days on, seven days off.”
“So, when’s he back?”
“He only left Monday morning, first thing.”
“Oh.” He didn’t mention his connection with the mines.
Everything that needed to be done — dishes, benches, tidying up, music selection — was done. They sat side by side on the couch.
“D’you smoke … I mean dope?” she asked.
“Oh, have been known to.” He grinned at her. The coffee table base had drawers in it. She opened one, pulled out a bong and a small bag of weed. She deftly packed the bowl and handed it to him with a cigarette lighter. He applied the flame to the bowl, sucked all of the smoke that he could into his lungs and held it there as he passed the bong back to Nikki. She repacked the bowl and fired it up for herself. Finally exhaling she packed the bong, lighter and baggie back in the drawer.
“Now,” she said with a distinctly mischievous smile, “where were we, this morning, when we were so rudely interrupted?” Jack could feel the instant effect of the weed. His heart rate was slightly elevated, colours seemed just a little brighter, he noticed the music for the first time and his overall sense of well-being was elevated. He grinned at her.
“I seem to recall you had just asked me if I liked what I saw through the knothole. I said I did and you asked me if I wanted to see more. I said I did. I think that brings us up to date.” Nikki smiled a little lasciviously at him. This evening she was wearing a light cotton, sleeveless halter top that revealed her midriff and enough cleavage to keep Jack’s attention. She wore no bra. Her fingers went to the buttons and she, began, one by one, to undo them. Jack felt his heart rate step up another notch and the blood flow into his cock.
All of the buttons bar one were undone. She reached for her wine, took a sip, looked enquiringly at him then, with a small inward smile, she replaced the glass on the table and undid the final button. She straightened her back, squared her shoulders, tossed her hair back and her breasts sprung into view. She looked at Jack for a reaction. His face told the story, but he pretended otherwise.
“Um, you asked me if I wanted to see more. I saw your tits though the knothole this morning, so this isn’t ‘more’!” He raised his eyebrows at her. She burst out laughing.
“Jack-the-Lad has a bit of the devil in him!” She took off the halter top and stood up. She leaned over him brushing her breasts against his face. She heard his little gasp. She stood back and undid the button on the waist band of her floral patterned harem pants. She looked at him. He looked at her. She undid the zip. She looked at him. He looked at her. She let go of the waist and the pants fell to the floor. She was wearing a very brief pair of red lace panties. She looked at him. He looked at her.
“I haven’t seen more yet.”
“You bastard!” she laughed. She stood there, slightly hesitant. He nodded his head in a ‘go-on-then’ motion. She hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties and wriggled them off her hips, down her thighs, to her ankles. She stepped out of them while still bent over. Then she stood up. Now she was naked, entirely naked. She wore the tiniest wedge of trimmed hair around the top of her pussy.
Jack could feel his head swimming. The dope they had smoked was quite strong and it seemed to lend emphasis to every little nuance of sensory perception. Nikki sat down on the couch, her back against the arm, facing him. She brought her feet up onto the couch, her ankles together. Certain of his attention she slowly dropped her knees apart revealing all to his heated gaze.
Jack swallowed, his saliva was thick with sexual desire. He could feel his penis aching to be free of his shorts. He gazed at the slightly parted pink petals. He shook his head, reached for his beer and took a long swig.
“What about you, did you like what you saw through the knothole?” he asked thickly.
“Oh, yes I did.”
“D’you want to see more?”
“Oh, yes I do!” He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, dropping it on the floor. She could see for the first time, close up, the finely developed muscles of his upper torso, shoulders and arms. He looked at her. She looked at him. He stood up and released the belt of his below-the-knee shorts. He undid the button and pulled down the zip. He looked at her. She looked at him. He dropped his shorts. He heard a small gasp. He looked at her. She looked at him but now with eyes wide. He knew his erection would be unmistakable in his briefs. He glanced down. There was a pretty big bulge there. He took a deep breath and then hooked his thumbs into the sides of his briefs and stripped them off him. He looked at her. She was no longer looking at him she was looking at his cock.
He knew it was big; ever since he was about fourteen and saw his father in the shower; he was already bigger than him. He had glanced surreptitiously at the other guys in the showers after football and at the gym. His did seem rather larger than almost everyone he ever saw.
“My God its big!” she said with a hint of awe. He sat down at his end of the couch, back against the arm, his knees apart, mirroring her pose. She gazed at him. He sat upright, shoulders back, hands on his knees. His cock was upright and clearly rose above his navel.
She came up onto her knees and shuffled across towards him. Her hand extended tentatively and she touched it. She encircled it in her right hand. It felt hot, it felt hard. She ran the thumb of her left hand over his glans. It was like satin. The sensation of her thumb on him made his cock jerk. She was still in awe of its size. She put her left hand around it above her right. There was still room for another hand around the shaft. She felt quivery inside. She had never seen a penis this size before. She had heard stories. She tried to imagine it inside her. Her heart pounded. She could feel her own wetness.