Sunday is here again and it’s time to pucker up for some yummy kissing action!Here’s today’s snog and it’s from my story in the hot voyeur collection Wicked Watchers: The Pursuit of Pleasure.
Here’s the blurb:
Have you ever had the feeling you’re being watched? Sometimes, watching can be naughty. And nice. Seven erotic stories of those who are spied upon, and those who do the spying. You might be surprised to learn who has their eye… on you…
The things one does for siblings! Two sisters attend a performance, but the attention of one wanders, and she discovers that there are far more interesting happenings then what is going on up on the stage. Should she reveal herself, or simply keep watching the private show?
There are two people in there. One of the old velvet curtains is pulled across, but there’s a gap I can still see through. The two people are kissing. I can’t work out much more; the lack of light is an annoyance and I can’t really tell who they are. Both are clothed in black, but neither are wearing jewels, a long, sweeping skirt or a dicky bow, so I’m thinking they’re probably theatre employees.
They’re definitely not working, though. I take a glance around. No one else seems to be remotely interested in what’s happening in the box; all their gazes are glued on the stage. Some woman’s screaming. I’m assuming an important plot twist is going on down there.
When I look back to the couple I can see that one’s lost her top. I can definitely tell it’s a her and not a he, as the faint light’s highlighting the curve of ample breasts encased in a black bra. The guy, although I’m only assuming he’s a guy, is fully clothed. He may well turn out to have breasts too-but whatever he is, this other person’s fondling the woman’s chest. With great enthusiasm, in fact. I wish I could see in more detail but I’d declined to pay for a pair of opera glasses and I’m not going to fumble around for change to operate a pair now, so I just squint.
I know it’s not polite to stare, but it’s also not polite to make out in a public place. If they didn’t want to be seen, they wouldn’t be going at it in a theatre packed full of people, highlighted by the weird, green glow of the fire exit sign. I’m watching, but I surreptitiously check left and right now and again just to make sure no one is watching me… erm… watching. I don’t want anyone to think I’m a pervert, you know.
Pick up the anthology to read more of this encounter as well as 6 other short and sexy tales of watching and being watched.