Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Excerpt Tuesday - Voyeur

Voyeur was written in response to Phaze's first call for themed HeatSheets. The Sparklers were summer-set shorts (heh) and released initially with two different covers. These were done back before Phaze covers shifted to predominantly stock photography, and people made much of this guy's bare backside. The artist also produced an alternate cover that had Sparkler Man wearing green smiley face shorts - done to satisfy sites and vendors that wouldn't use the nekkid one. I don't think I have that one anymore - most of the theme sheets from 2005 have since been given new covers. Not sure why the old one still shows on Kindle.

Anyway, here is a NSFW excerpt for you to enjoy!

~*~


It didn't take long for word of Marissa's voyeuristic turn in Room 112 to spread throughout staff and residents alike. For the rest of the week, as Marissa worked her shifts, she found it difficult to ignore the occasional snicker and clandestine wink aimed in her direction. Marissa imagined much of the ribbing was good-natured, and borne from those who had fallen for the same prank themselves. Marissa felt as if she was now part of some exclusive club. Baylor Watch.

To her relief, the volunteer staff's supervisor saw fit not to have Marissa work in the Alzheimer's wing. It did not, however, prevent the gossip from reaching her ears. Erik Baylor had visited his wife every day since, and according to Sheila the couple had enjoyed two "good days" out of the last five.

After a few shifts in the cafeteria and the library, Marissa was able to put many names to the faces of Oak Ridge's more active residents, though was unable to put the memory of her first official work day behind her.

She was trying to do just that on Friday, which saw her in the library for her entire shift, when the door opened and Marissa saw a familiar, smiling figure. Glen approached, looking gorgeous in a dark green Polo this time, emblazoned with a tiny red logo on his breast.

Whatever color he wore, though, looked good on him, and Marissa felt her heart lift every time he approached. He was well-liked among staff and residents, thanks to his easy-going demeanor that coupled well with his administrative abilities. Marissa, though, saw more in the friendly smiles he had for everybody.
She saw two full lips she wouldn't have minded kissing, a tongue she would quickly allow to explore her mouth—and other body parts.

Marissa shelved a few large-print romances as he approached. She mentally shook away the lustful thoughts; this was not the place for it. The Baylor incident was really putting ideas in her head. She didn't need to be thinking about love in the stacks, about Glen cornering her against a myriad of book spines and easing his tongue around the outer shell of her ear while his hands explored her body...

She swallowed and took a deep breath, and managed to compose herself. "Looking for a good read?" she greeted him in a librarian's whisper as she moved behind the safety of the circulation desk.

Glen set down his ever-present clipboard and rested a hip on the desk. "Glad I caught you before you left. Marissa, would you consider applying for a CDL?" he asked.

Marissa bit her lip and smiled. Everything about Glen, even the simplest gesture of leaning innocently on a desk evoked a sensuality she found difficult to ignore. She knew for a fact the other women working at Oak Ridge noticed it as well; it wasn't just Sheila who wouldn't have minded "some of that."

Marissa wondered briefly if Glen had ever given anybody here "some of that."

Glen tilted his head, his smile wider. "What's so funny?"

"Hm?" Marissa's attention returned to Glen, and she realized she had been laughing at the thought of Sheila's constant arousal, and her own. "Oh, nothing," she said quickly, and toyed with the straps of her purse. "I, uh, I'm not quite sure what you mean by CDL. I hadn't planned on going into the medical field."

Now it was Glen's turn to laugh, a deep-throated chuckle that reverberated in Marissa's ribcage. She rubbed her thighs together to counteract the ache in her pussy.

Two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth flashed beneath his neatly trimmed moustache. She wondered how his moustache would feel tickling her clit as his tongue traced the edges of her slit.

"No, Marissa, CDL stands for chauffeur's driver's license," he explained, and held up the clipboard, to which was attached a sheet of graph paper. "The state requires anybody who drives our residents in the home's van to have one."

"Oh." Marissa blushed. To think, being in graduate school, she should have at least known that. "I feel so silly."

"Don't be. A lot of people here didn't realize that. The laws vary from state to state. We just happen to live in a place where a regular driver's license just won't cut it."

Marissa nodded. She knew about the vans the home used; they really looked like short commuter buses. Residents were often bussed to the nearby malls and churches, and sometimes special out of town field trips for the heartier residents were arranged.

"Turns out we're going to need some extra drivers in the coming weeks, as we're losing a few of our volunteers for various reasons," Glen continued. "We'll need somebody especially on Sundays to make the church rounds, and of course we'll need drivers to shuttle everybody to and from the picnic. Would you be interested?"

Marissa nodded. "I'll do it. Sounds like fun." She palmed her keys and stood to leave. "So I guess going in for a CDL is like getting a regular license, huh? I take a written and eye test, then drive around orange cones on an obstacle course?"

"Pretty much, only you'd be driving the van instead of a car. Here." In one long stride Glen was in front of her and holding open the library door. "Trust me, the van isn't difficult to drive, it's like any kind of large van, only difference is that it has one of those folding doors like a bus, and sometimes you'll have to assist some of the residents in boarding, particularly the wheelchair bound. You also have to watch backing up and parallel parking, especially in tight places."


Tight places. Sheila would have made much of that little remark. Marissa smirked, and hoped Glen did not see her. What he must be thinking of her, making all these goofy faces?

"I'm not good at either of those with my little Toyota," Marissa admitted, hugging her purse close to her chest. Glen was wearing a rather spicy scent that tickled her nose and set her heart to pounding. She cast a shy glance in his direction; they seemed now to be walking rather close to each other. She noticed the way his bare arms flexed under the tight cuffs of his short sleeves, how his Adam's apple bobbed in between the opened collar of his shirt. He had such nice hands, too, with long, manicured fingers that would have looked at home on a piano keyboard, or perhaps gently kneading her buttocks or breasts...


Stop it, Marissa scolded herself, and tried to look away. It unnerved her to have these lustful feelings for Glen, and she was certain she was feeling some kind of after effect from the Room 112 incident. The image of the Baylors engrossed in a sixty-nine position on Barbara Baylor's hospital bed had faded somewhat during the week, but Marissa feared the vision would be indelible. At the most inopportune times, whether during a class or while helping an Oak Ridge resident with something, the image would become resurrected in her mind like television instant replay. She would be reading one of her textbooks for school and boom! There's Barbara Baylor sucking her husband's cock and smiling.

Sometimes in these thoughts, to Marissa's further embarrassment, she saw not Mrs. Baylor, but herself, with her lips around that pulsing organ, only the cock would belong to Glen. It would be Glen's tongue flicking at her clit, his hands reaching underneath to fondle her drooping breasts as his tongue probed her to a screaming orgasm.

Then he would turn her onto her back, and pound that beautiful, thick cock into her...

No comments: