My heart pounds with excitement and anticipation as I crouch beside the door.  I’ve been waiting for this a very long time.

I peer into the keyhole, feeling cold metal against my face.  I see the shower curtain pulled shut, and I imagine Ginger behind it.  I picture her shampooing her hair, and soaping up her body.  I imagine that her full breasts are covered with bubbly lather and in desperate need of a warm hand.  I imagine standing behind her, my hardness right up against her as my hand settles into the warmth at the junction of her thighs.  

I imagine Ginger standing before me, her full, pleasing breasts pressing against my chest like vine-ripened tomatoes.  I picture her hand closing around my erection, stroking it in a tight fist.  I fancy that I can taste her lips and tongue against my own, that I am aware of our hearts beating in unison.  Speaking of heartbeats, my own continues to pound.  Mentally I will it to slow down, to hush, lest my voyeuristic tendencies are discovered.  

I imagine Ginger kissing down my neck, along my shoulder, and down my chest.  I picture her pausing long enough to draw my sensitive nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue all around it before continuing on her way.  In my mind she drops to her knees, kissing down my stomach and finally wrapping her lips around my throbbing, eager cock.  For a moment, I lose myself in that little fantasy, wishing desperately that it is reality.

At last the water is shut off.  My heartbeat thunders in my chest.  The anticipation is almost too great to bear until at long last the shower curtain slides open, revealing Ginger in all her radiant glory.  Naked, she is truly a sight to behold.  Her curves are exquisite, the sum total of her every beautiful inch no less than a masterpiece of feminine beauty.

She reaches for a towel and begins to dry herself.  As well as the sight, I enjoy the voyeuristic thrill of observing her in a vulnerable moment.  My cock pulses and palpitates in my jeans, straining at the material as though threatening to bore its way free.  I lower a hand to it in the hopes of calming it down.

Ginger turns to face the door.  Her eyes focus on the doorknob.  I freeze, my heart leaping in my chest.  She can’t possibly know I’m there, can she?  She can’t possibly see my eye through that tiny hole.  I can’t tell whether she’s caught me.

“All right,” she says at last.  “You’ve had your little thrill.  Now are you going to come in here and fuck me or not?”

She’s so accommodating. (451/500)

There was no new Flash Fiction Friday prompt this week.  When I complained on Twitter that I was having trouble coming up with something spontaneous to post in its place, GingerBlackfox suggested that I take inspiration from a recent photo she posted.

In addition to the required word designated above, she suggested a word limit of 500 or 1,000 words, whichever I found more suitable.  As you know if you participate in Flash Fiction Friday or if you read my Flash Fiction Friday posts, the maximum word count is usually less than 150.  Thus, even 500 was relatively extravagant, though it did present its own unique challenges.

In particular, after months of working with a much smaller word limit, I had to push myself to write something that suited 500 words.  I had to consciously remind myself that I wasn’t likely to run out of words, and that if I did I could always extend the count to 1,000.  

Given the high word limit, there were no elements of this story that had to be excised for lack of space.  However, while I knew from the beginning that this story would involve voyeurism, there were a couple different concepts I considered.  One was that the narrator observes and leaves the scene without Ginger noticing.  In another, Ginger notices.  To the surprise of the narrator she is excited by being observed, and invites him in.  Ultimately I decided to write a story wherein the voyeurism was planned by both participants.

If space allowed, I planned to include a sex scene following Ginger’s “discovery” of the narrator’s voyeurism.  While writing the story, however, I decided that the twist – that Ginger is aware of her observer – made for a better ending.  Therefore I included the sex scene as a figment of the narrator’s hopeful imagination.

Something slow and sensual would probably work here.  How about “Feelin’ Love” by Paula Cole?