down,” Ritchie hisses. “Come on.” He leads along the wooden
privacy fence that guards the Daniels back yard. I’m getting nervous. If we get
caught…
Ritchie stops
beside a knothole, crouches over and peers through. Standing, he looks at me
with a big teddy-bear grin and nods. “Take a look.”
I crouch down
and peer through the hole, and sure enough, there’s Sharon Daniels lying on her
back on a floating mattress in the middle of their swimming pool wearing
nothing more than her birthday suit. Her breasts are soft round mounds on her
chest, her nipples a dark pink. Her legs are long, tanned and toned from hours
upon hours of jogging. Her stomach is as flat as the sea after a storm. And right
there, as if her legs are runways leading all the way to Heaven, there is a
patch of brown curly hair at the center of every teenage boy’s universe. This
is the first woman I’ve seen naked in real life. It’s so much more amazing than
Playboy or some still life photograph. This is a girl every guy in town has
probably jerked off to at one point or another.
“Lemme see,”
Ritchie whispers, and I back off a step so he can look. He shakes his head,
licks his lips and sighs quietly. “Unbelievable.”
“This is wrong,”
I say. “I mean, we’re spying on her.”
“It’s right,”
Ritchie replies as he stands. Sweat is running in beads from his forehead. “It’s
right in so many ways.”
“Maybe we should
go.”
“Maybe we should
stay, and maybe you should be a little quieter so we don’t get caught.” He
bends down again, closes one eye and peers thought the knothole with the other.
His mouth curls into a smile. “That body was made to be seen.”
“Come on. Let’s
go.”
“Just take one
more look,” he says, backing away. “One more look, and if you still wanna go,
we’ll go.”
“You are such a
pervert.”
“Oh, and you’re
not? You’re just playin’ it cool ‘cuz you got a girl, and you want to act all
non-challent.”
“Nonchalant, dumb
ass.”
“That’s what I
said.”
“I’m not
looking.”
“Look.”
“I’m not
looking.”
“Look, or I’ll
yell so loud the whole neighborhood will know you’re here.”
“You’re such a—”
Ritchie fills
his lungs, puffing out his chest, ready to unleash a howl that will not only
alert Sharon to our position but everyone else within a fifty mile radius.
“Fine,” I hiss.
I shake my head and turn back to the fence. Crouching down, I peer through the
hole. By this time, she’s slipped off her inflatable raft and is swimming
toward the ladder. Her movements are graceful—sleek. The angel on one shoulder
is telling me to look away, while the devil on the other is insisting nobody
gets hurt. Besides, the devil argues, Ritchie’s probably right. She wants to be seen.
Sharon climbs out of the pool and turns to face the sun, giving me a perfect view of her
bare backside while she squeezes water from her hair. Of course, she has
absolutely no idea that I’m peering through her fence or that I’m even here,
enjoying her body in all of its glorious—
She turns
suddenly, as if she’s heard something, and looks directly at the knothole I’m
peering through. Directly at the knothole. We even lock eyes for a
second before she looks away. Maybe she didn’t see me. Even so, my heart is now
thundering in my chest, but I keep watching as she prances slowly across the
grass and sits on the porch swing only a few feet away. She’s sitting on the
swing, buck naked, kicking her feet out as she swings back and forth. She knows
I’m here. She has to. How couldn’t she? She’s just swinging away, her wet hair
dancing against her bare skin.
“Oh my god,” I
mouth silently.
“Lemme see!”
Ritchie hisses.
I raise a finger
to my lips and point at the knothole before drawing a finger across my throat.
Ritchie urgently points at himself then the hole. I back off so he can look,
and immediately his eyes widen with amazement, his mouth
privacy fence that guards the Daniels back yard. I’m getting nervous. If we get
caught…
Ritchie stops
beside a knothole, crouches over and peers through. Standing, he looks at me
with a big teddy-bear grin and nods. “Take a look.”
I crouch down
and peer through the hole, and sure enough, there’s Sharon Daniels lying on her
back on a floating mattress in the middle of their swimming pool wearing
nothing more than her birthday suit. Her breasts are soft round mounds on her
chest, her nipples a dark pink. Her legs are long, tanned and toned from hours
upon hours of jogging. Her stomach is as flat as the sea after a storm. And right
there, as if her legs are runways leading all the way to Heaven, there is a
patch of brown curly hair at the center of every teenage boy’s universe. This
is the first woman I’ve seen naked in real life. It’s so much more amazing than
Playboy or some still life photograph. This is a girl every guy in town has
probably jerked off to at one point or another.
“Lemme see,”
Ritchie whispers, and I back off a step so he can look. He shakes his head,
licks his lips and sighs quietly. “Unbelievable.”
“This is wrong,”
I say. “I mean, we’re spying on her.”
“It’s right,”
Ritchie replies as he stands. Sweat is running in beads from his forehead. “It’s
right in so many ways.”
“Maybe we should
go.”
“Maybe we should
stay, and maybe you should be a little quieter so we don’t get caught.” He
bends down again, closes one eye and peers thought the knothole with the other.
His mouth curls into a smile. “That body was made to be seen.”
“Come on. Let’s
go.”
“Just take one
more look,” he says, backing away. “One more look, and if you still wanna go,
we’ll go.”
“You are such a
pervert.”
“Oh, and you’re
not? You’re just playin’ it cool ‘cuz you got a girl, and you want to act all
non-challent.”
“Nonchalant, dumb
ass.”
“That’s what I
said.”
“I’m not
looking.”
“Look.”
“I’m not
looking.”
“Look, or I’ll
yell so loud the whole neighborhood will know you’re here.”
“You’re such a—”
Ritchie fills
his lungs, puffing out his chest, ready to unleash a howl that will not only
alert Sharon to our position but everyone else within a fifty mile radius.
“Fine,” I hiss.
I shake my head and turn back to the fence. Crouching down, I peer through the
hole. By this time, she’s slipped off her inflatable raft and is swimming
toward the ladder. Her movements are graceful—sleek. The angel on one shoulder
is telling me to look away, while the devil on the other is insisting nobody
gets hurt. Besides, the devil argues, Ritchie’s probably right. She wants to be seen.
Sharon climbs out of the pool and turns to face the sun, giving me a perfect view of her
bare backside while she squeezes water from her hair. Of course, she has
absolutely no idea that I’m peering through her fence or that I’m even here,
enjoying her body in all of its glorious—
She turns
suddenly, as if she’s heard something, and looks directly at the knothole I’m
peering through. Directly at the knothole. We even lock eyes for a
second before she looks away. Maybe she didn’t see me. Even so, my heart is now
thundering in my chest, but I keep watching as she prances slowly across the
grass and sits on the porch swing only a few feet away. She’s sitting on the
swing, buck naked, kicking her feet out as she swings back and forth. She knows
I’m here. She has to. How couldn’t she? She’s just swinging away, her wet hair
dancing against her bare skin.
“Oh my god,” I
mouth silently.
“Lemme see!”
Ritchie hisses.
I raise a finger
to my lips and point at the knothole before drawing a finger across my throat.
Ritchie urgently points at himself then the hole. I back off so he can look,
and immediately his eyes widen with amazement, his mouth
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