The Flautist

He lent against the window, looking down at her. She stood in-front of her window, playing the flute. With his apartment a floor higher, he had the perfect view. She was wearing a black sheer nightie. Her creamy orbs beneath the nightie swelled as she breathed. He watched feeling his member growing within his boxers.

Her eyes flashed up at him, he felt them meet his for a second, then they were gone. The sight of her bright green eyes filled his mind. Absent-mindedly his hand closed around his cloth wrapped shaft. He could see her red, pursed lips pushing air over the mouthpiece. He imagined his teeth gently pinching her juicy lip. His hand moved fast beneath the window.

Her green eyes turned up to him again, he thought he saw them flash with an emerald light. As she stared up at him, his hand kept pumping. Her lips lifted from the flute, she whispered, “I'm making you hot”. He heard the words, her voice deep and sensual. As her mouth went back to the flute, he realised he was hot, his blood felt as if it were boiling.

His free hand unlatched the window, pushing it open to let cold air race in. He looked back down to her playing the flute. He watched her dark discs, visible beneath the nightie, moving with her breaths. He could see the two hard tips pushing at the thin material.

She lowered the flute from her lips holding it at her side. Her eyes found his again, and he felt a shiver run down his spine. She stood watching, biting her bottom lip and staring up. Her lips didn't move, but, he heard her voice again.

“Call to me.” The voice was soft but insistent. When he said nothing in reply, she repeated her instruction.

“Come to me” he replied.

“Use my name.” He could feel the orgasm ready to escape. He wanted to please her, to carry out her instruction. But, he didn't know her name. In the month she had lived across the street from him, all he had done was watch her from his window.

Her tongue emerged from her mouth, to run across her top lip; he could feel it running along the tip of his manhood. He felt sure he would erupt at any moment, yet something in her gaze seemed to hold him back. He knew if she dropped her eyes, he would be finished, but she held him on the verge.

Then a name came to him, it wasn't whispered as her instructions had been, it simply surfaced in his mind. “Come to me Adrasteia!”. Her mouth opened into a wide smile, and he was released.

His head drooped as his seed seeped through his boxers. When he looked up he found she had gone, the room cloaked in darkness.

He stripped off the sticky boxers and climbed onto his bed. He lay thinking about her. The first night he had seen her, he had been excited by a young 18 year old girl moving in opposite. Over the weeks, he had reassessed her age, closer to 30. He put the mistake down to the excitement of someone new who he had only seen at night across the street.

The room he could look into, her music room, was not furnished like a teenager's. Old, possibly antique, furniture cluttered the room, dark wood seemed to suck in light.

Slowly sleep took hold of him.

The moon was high when he turned onto his back, he found her stood at the foot of his bed. The nightie was gone, leaving her completely naked; creamy, smooth skin shining in the moonlight.

She climbed slowly up the bed. He lay still, enjoying the dream. He found himself growing again, as he watched her large breasts swaying beneath her. As she drew level with him, he felt hypnotized by her eyes, they shone brightly, demanding his attention.

Her hand reached down between them to take hold of him. Her cold fingers gripped his hot shaft. She plunged down, impaling herself upon him. He let out a cry in surprise, her lips curled into her smile. She raised herself upright. Her hips gyrated, flesh seeming to twist around him.

Her fingertips moved to her hard nipples stroking them as she swivelled upon him. He lay motionless, looking up into her green eyes, feeling himself throbbing inside her. His breathing became harder as his body neared climax.

She lowered herself down, her mouth approaching his, he closed his eyes in expectation of a kiss, but none came. She was inhaling his breath, sucking in his expelled air. He could feel her, sucking the air from his lungs. Her hands gripped his cheeks holding him still as she drank the air.

His body spasmed as his orgasm was sucked out of him. She released his face and his eyes closed. He fell into a deeper, dreamless sleep.

He awoke to find the window had blown wide open during the night. Pulling himself out of bed, he felt weak. At the window, the early morning sun stung his eyes. His hand unconsciously rose to a scratch on his neck.

Word Count: 867