hand, as he really focused on his task.
As she watched him, she slipped her hand under her skirt to her completely sweat-soaked panties. She closed her eyes, and the Jaclyn West third-person narrative kicked in:
Katrina watched as Dallas worked his manhood in the shower. She wondered if he was thinking of her or of someone else. She leaned against the doorframe, her breathing labored as she longed to be in there with him and doing that for him. Slipping her right hand under her skirt, she began running her index finger over her cotton-covered pussy. Her eyes remained glued on his sex, as he continued to pump it faster and faster. She pushed a finger under her panties and began touching the—
Jillian was yanked out of the fantasy when she heard Brian grunt loudly as he successfully completed his mission. Slumping against the door, exhausted, he squeezed the towel hard, pulling it down into the shower as it fell from his grip. As he tried to prevent it from landing under the spray of the shower he reached for it, missed it, slipped a little, and ended up on his knees with the towel on the shower floor.
She watched as he tossed the soaked towel into the corner of the shower, cursing and trying to ring it out. It remained worthlessly damp. Feeling sorry for him, she considered coming clean and casually walking a dry towel to him, but she decided that was probably a horrible idea.
Suddenly, she was startled by a noise coming from the hall. Sprinting from the guest room, she rushed into the hall and closed the door. As she continued across the hallway, she saw Rob coming up the stairs. When their eyes met, she slowed and stared at him with a blank expression.
He asked, "So did you guys do it?"
"What?" Stopping dead in her tracks, she awkwardly bounced up and down on her heals with her jaw falling open.
"How is he?"
She froze, unable to speak or breathe.
He narrowed his eyes. "Tennis. Did you guys play?"
Exhaling, she smiled. "Oh, yeah, we did play. He's really good."
"Is something wrong?"
She narrowed her eyes in a slight panic and then paused to compose herself. "Sorry. Your father called last night, and I’m still, uh..." George’s call was the furthest thing from her thoughts at that moment, but it was as good an excuse as any to explain her strange behavior.
"Sorry about that. Are you okay?"
"I’m fine. I think, uh, Brian is in the shower. Would you see if he needs another towel? I tried to catch him before, but, uh..." She trailed off as she handed the towel to Rob and headed past him down the hall.
"Sure."
"I really need a shower, myself." She walked into her bedroom and closed the door. With her hands covering her face, she slumped against the door; her body trembling.
Brian took a quick shower, tossed the damp bath towel on the floor, and stepped on it, dripping wet, as he attempted to try off with a hand towel.
Rob called to him through the partially-opened door, "You need a towel in there?"
Startled, Brian covered up as though he were being watched. "Rob, yeah. How’d you know?"
"Know what?"
"That I needed a towel?" Brian asked.
"My mother said you might."
After pausing to wonder if she’d been watching him again, he blew off that ridiculous thought and reached through the open door for the towel.
20
Jillian continued to lean against her door, feeling even more horrible than when she stared at Brian's exposed penis while he slept. What was she doing? What, exactly, was the plan? This time she had surely invaded his privacy, and she was sure that her actions must qualify as some kind of lesser sex crime. Walking across the room, she stripped off her damp clothes and stood before a full mirror, admiring the reflection of her newly trimmed area.
As she studied her new look, a shadow of a memory from the previous night took shape in her head. Was Brian in her room last night? Did she show him? Did she tell him about the other day when she saw him sleeping? No way,
As she watched him, she slipped her hand under her skirt to her completely sweat-soaked panties. She closed her eyes, and the Jaclyn West third-person narrative kicked in:
Katrina watched as Dallas worked his manhood in the shower. She wondered if he was thinking of her or of someone else. She leaned against the doorframe, her breathing labored as she longed to be in there with him and doing that for him. Slipping her right hand under her skirt, she began running her index finger over her cotton-covered pussy. Her eyes remained glued on his sex, as he continued to pump it faster and faster. She pushed a finger under her panties and began touching the—
Jillian was yanked out of the fantasy when she heard Brian grunt loudly as he successfully completed his mission. Slumping against the door, exhausted, he squeezed the towel hard, pulling it down into the shower as it fell from his grip. As he tried to prevent it from landing under the spray of the shower he reached for it, missed it, slipped a little, and ended up on his knees with the towel on the shower floor.
She watched as he tossed the soaked towel into the corner of the shower, cursing and trying to ring it out. It remained worthlessly damp. Feeling sorry for him, she considered coming clean and casually walking a dry towel to him, but she decided that was probably a horrible idea.
Suddenly, she was startled by a noise coming from the hall. Sprinting from the guest room, she rushed into the hall and closed the door. As she continued across the hallway, she saw Rob coming up the stairs. When their eyes met, she slowed and stared at him with a blank expression.
He asked, "So did you guys do it?"
"What?" Stopping dead in her tracks, she awkwardly bounced up and down on her heals with her jaw falling open.
"How is he?"
She froze, unable to speak or breathe.
He narrowed his eyes. "Tennis. Did you guys play?"
Exhaling, she smiled. "Oh, yeah, we did play. He's really good."
"Is something wrong?"
She narrowed her eyes in a slight panic and then paused to compose herself. "Sorry. Your father called last night, and I’m still, uh..." George’s call was the furthest thing from her thoughts at that moment, but it was as good an excuse as any to explain her strange behavior.
"Sorry about that. Are you okay?"
"I’m fine. I think, uh, Brian is in the shower. Would you see if he needs another towel? I tried to catch him before, but, uh..." She trailed off as she handed the towel to Rob and headed past him down the hall.
"Sure."
"I really need a shower, myself." She walked into her bedroom and closed the door. With her hands covering her face, she slumped against the door; her body trembling.
Brian took a quick shower, tossed the damp bath towel on the floor, and stepped on it, dripping wet, as he attempted to try off with a hand towel.
Rob called to him through the partially-opened door, "You need a towel in there?"
Startled, Brian covered up as though he were being watched. "Rob, yeah. How’d you know?"
"Know what?"
"That I needed a towel?" Brian asked.
"My mother said you might."
After pausing to wonder if she’d been watching him again, he blew off that ridiculous thought and reached through the open door for the towel.
20
Jillian continued to lean against her door, feeling even more horrible than when she stared at Brian's exposed penis while he slept. What was she doing? What, exactly, was the plan? This time she had surely invaded his privacy, and she was sure that her actions must qualify as some kind of lesser sex crime. Walking across the room, she stripped off her damp clothes and stood before a full mirror, admiring the reflection of her newly trimmed area.
As she studied her new look, a shadow of a memory from the previous night took shape in her head. Was Brian in her room last night? Did she show him? Did she tell him about the other day when she saw him sleeping? No way,
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