Blonde Through the Spyglass

Author's Note: My submission to Literotica's Nude Day Contest. Thanks to Actingup for his help proofing the prologue.

***

On dating apps, I list three bullet points under my profile pic.

Kimmie, 25

• Short Queen. ????

• Photographer. ????

• Hates dating. ????‍♀️

One of those bullets is a lie.

... well, kind of. To say I'm a photographer would sadly be bending the truth. To most of the world, my professional photography is despicable, abhorrent, a total invasion of privacy. I get it. Nobody likes the paparazzi. There's nothing honorable about tracking public figures, snapping photos of them, then selling the scoop to the media (or shadowy figures on the internet).

Ethics aside, pap work excites me because it blends my love for photography with a perverse craving for "the moment." I love the adrenaline rush of when, after hours of waiting, my mark finally steps into frame and it's go-time for me to act fast and decisively. Like a sniper, it's either I hit the target or I miss; either I get the perfect shot or I don't.

Snapping pics as a pap, exhilarating as it can be, is merely target practice for me. My end goal is to be a legit photographer, the type who's commissioned to cover important world events for a reputable outlet. If I'm lucky, I'll produce an iconic photo that endures for centuries.

If I'm also lucky, I'll actually rise from the depths of paparazzi purgatory. Thing is, I've no clue how to properly break through. It's as frustrating as my love life, which—deep sigh—is a whole other story.

Did I mention I hate dating? The charade. The hassle. The games. Hate it all. In my experience, the nice guys want out once they find out I'm a pap; the bad boys ghost me after I give up the goods. Whatever. It's why I don't bother checking the apps anymore.

In any case, romance can take a backseat while I focus on my career goals. I've been steadily building my photo portfolio in a three-ring binder, ready to show off my real photog skills to anyone influential who'd listen. I just needed one person to believe in my potential, grant me an opportunity to prove myself.

The Mark

This afternoon, I patiently camped out in a vacant unit of a residential tower, 30 floors high, a comfortable distance from my mark across the street. With a fresh memory card loaded, I had my camera's telephoto lens pointed through a window, aimed at his penthouse suite.

Who was I looking to capture in my crosshairs? He was a popular singer whose music I knew jack shit about. The only tune that mattered to me though was the money that people were willing to shell out for this guy's candids.

I heard a door shut behind me. That must've been my egghead assistant, Timmy, back with food to keep us fueled.

"What'd I miss, Boss?" Timmy asked me.

"Nada. No movement in the singer's penthouse," I replied.

"I don't think Enzo's home, Kimmie. He's on tour."

I jerked my head his way. "What'd you say?"

"He's on his nationwide tou—"

"Heard you the first time!" I said, interrupting him. "Why are you telling me this now?!"

"Sorry, Boss! I had the dates mixed up. But I just saw an ad for Enzo's tour, when I was out getting us food. Here, got you your favorite sandwich."

I swiped the turkey swiss from his hand. "Dammit, Timmy! You've got us staking out here for nothing then!"

"Not a total waste," he said, flashing me a smile. "We get to hang out."

"That doesn't get me paid," I said. "Which means you don't get your cut, genius!"

"Right, of course. Sorry, Boss!" Timmy helplessly shrugged his shoulders.

I let out a heavy sigh, trying to recall why I'd even hired this egghead. Some days, runny yolk was the only thing between his ears. Good thing I was only paying him peanuts.

"This space is pretty bougie," Timmy said. He scanned the pre-furnished decor of the vacant unit we were holed up in. "How'd you get access to this spot?"

"I used to date the building manager," I replied passive-aggressively.

"So you're not seeing him anymore then?" Timmy asked.

"No. He didn't like that I was a pap."

"Seriously?" he said. "That's the reason?"

"Ugh, stop prying, egghead. You're not my bestie at brunch." I returned my focus to my camera's viewfinder, hoping our mark would magically appear at his window, proving my assistant wrong after all.

"Kimmie, wanna get dinner later? My treat. A sorry for the Enzo error."

"I see something, be quiet!" I said.

"Is it Enzo?" he asked.

"No, it's a woman. Blonde. A few floors below the singer's penthouse. She's on her balcony... and... and she's nude..."

The Blonde

For several minutes, Timmy and I spied on this mysterious blonde across the street, me through my camera's viewfinder, him using his binoculars.

We were hypnotized, wondering what kind of person would be brave enough to sunbathe nude on their balcony. Whoever this woman was, she was an eye magnet, clearly living her best exhibitionist life. And why not? Blondie boasted a body to be proud of, the type to inspire a generation of crusted socks, landfills of balled tissues.

"Those breasts could cure erectile dysfunction," I said. "And not a speck of hair on her downstairs. Impeccable laser work."

"Man, she looks so familiar, but I can't quite put my finger on it," Timmy said. "Do you think other people are watching her right now?"

"Other than us?" I scanned around with my camera's zoom. "I don't see anyone close by. Her unit's pretty high up. We're lucky we're eye-level."

"I wonder if she's celebrating National Nude Day."

"What?" I said. "No chance that's a real thing."

"It is, Boss. My grandma celebrates it," he said sincerely.

"Ew, gross!" I laughed. "Keep that to yourself, egghead."

"So what do you think Blondie does for a living?" he asked.

"With that body? She's a model, at the very least." I began snapping photos.

"You must think she's famous if you're taking pics."

"Well, if the singer's not home, we might as well make the most of our stakeout. Someone on the dark web might buy naked pics of Blondie."

"Shoot, maybe I'll buy them off you," Timmy said, and I swiftly scowled his way.

"What?" he said, surprised by my reaction. "She's hot."

"So Blondie's your type, huh?" I scoffed. "God, could you be any more predictable?"

"I mean, if you're really asking, Blondie's more like a Greek goddess. Personally, I prefer someone more girl-next-door... Someone cool like you, Kimmie."

I snorted. "Wipe the brown off your nose. If this is you sniffing for a raise, you can forget about it. I'd sooner dock your pay, especially after your Enzo screw-up today."

"Aw, c'mon, Boss," he said. "I can't be that bad. I have my moments of brilliance."

"Spare a 'brilliant moment' to focus your binoculars," I said, eyes back in my viewfinder. "Blondie's on the move. She's leaving her balcony, going back inside her unit."

The mystery woman re-entered her living room. Luckily for us, the tall balcony panels she'd closed behind her were clear glass, which gifted us a clean view into her entire space. Timmy, spying from his own window, had a slightly different vantage point than me.

"Can you see inside her unit too?" I asked.

"Yeah, she's got a nice pad," he said. "Modern luxury. Love her furnishing choices. Great design eye, don't ya think?"

"You're ridiculous," I said, muffling my grin. "Look, Blondie's thrown on a robe to cover up. And now she's walking toward her front door. Someone's there, but my angle's tight. What do you see?"

"It's a guy in a suit," Timmy said. "He's kissed her on the lips. Boyfriend, I'm guessing? And hold on, seems Boyfriend's also brought a buddy with him. Both men are walking into her unit. You see them now, Boss?"

"Yep, got eyes on 'em. This Buddy guy sure is friendly. He just hugged Blondie, and not just any hug! Grabbed handfuls of her ass. She didn't seem to mind it. Weirdly, her 'boyfriend' witnessed the ass-grabbing. Didn't seem to mind it either..."

"What do you think's going on here, Kimmie?"

"No clue yet, but let's keep watching," I said. "This day's finally gotten interesting..."

The Boyfriend

Timmy and I continued observing the unit across the street, curious exactly who these two men were to Blondie.

The first guy was average height, dressed in a tailored business suit. His buddy, on the other hand, was in plain clothes, a tad taller, wearing a tight t-shirt that proved he didn't skip chest days at the gym.

"Boss," Timmy said, "so we're saying Boyfriend's the one in the suit, the one that kissed her? How do we know Buddy's not her boyfriend?"

"We don't," I replied. "But Buddy's got a tan on his ring finger. Either he's recently divorced or he's taken it off today."

"Maybe Blondie took hers off too?" he asked.

"Nope. No tan. Neither for Boyfriend. And just look at their body language: Blondie and Boyfriend are all lovey-dovey, arms around each other. It's obvious they're the ones together."

"Who's Buddy then?" Timmy asked. "And how'd he get ass-grabbing privileges?"

"Great question," I said. "You're starting to ask better ones, egghead. Keep sniffing the trail."

We watched as Blondie kindly welcomed Buddy to sit on her couch. She brought him a beer bottle from her fridge. Gave him the remote control to her TV.

"Hmm," I said, "seems she's telling Buddy to relax, make himself at home. And look, now she's taken hold of Boyfriend's hand, leading him to her bedroom. Blondie's got lust in her eyes, seduction in her strut. That can only mean one thing..."

I slowly swiveled my camera toward Blondie's bedroom. Fortunately for us, the view into it was unobstructed, with the drapes inside her windowed wall bunched up in the corner.

"Yup, they're kissing alright," Timmy said. "Blondie's gripping Boyfriend's bulge. He's squeezing her butt, both hands. Are you snapping photos, Boss?"

"Of course I am," I replied. "And screw photos, I'm gonna get video! Dark web pervs love a good amateur sex tape." I pressed record on my camera.

Just when it looked like we'd struck gold, Boyfriend took hold of the window drapes. We watched in anguish as the suited man slid them across the transparent facade.

I disappointedly turned to Timmy. "Shit..."

"Boss, quick, swing back toward the living room! You won't believe what Buddy's doing!"

I panned my camera to the other man, and my eyebrows nearly leapt off my forehead. Buddy had his zipper undone, his cock out, his right hand firmly jerking himself. He was pressed up against her bedroom door, ear against the wood, listening (seemingly) to the sounds of sex on the other side.

"Buddy's really getting off on their business!" Timmy said.

I was at a loss for words, unsure of what to make of matters.

Minutes went by and Buddy continued masturbating, his face growing more enamored with every rigorous stroke. Interestingly, Buddy then picked up his half-empty beer bottle, still jerking himself. The needy look on his face spelled an oncoming eruption.

"Boss, I'm confused. Buddy's holding his beer but not drinking it."

I smirked to myself, sensing Buddy's intent. "He's gonna avoid a mess, watch."

As I'd expected, Buddy aimed his tip down the barrel of the bottle. Splash after splash coated the inside of the glass, dripping down to mix liquids, flavoring his lager with a new salty tang.

"Jesus!" Timmy said.

We watched Buddy zip himself up and return to the couch. He placed his beer on the coffee table, before settling into a cushy slouch, head resting along the back edge.

Timmy and I took a minute to collect ourselves. Removed our eyes from our spyglasses to gauge each other's reaction.

"Wow, um... That just happened," Timmy said. "So Boss, you, uh... recorded all that?"

I nodded in silence.

"Do you think it'll sell for something?" he asked.

"Doubt it," I said. "Who wants a vid of a random guy jacking off?"

"What can we do then?"

"Nothing for our bank accounts, sadly," I said. "But this trio's got me asking so many questions. Let's keep watching, Timmy. I want some answers."

***

Timmy and I plugged back into the scene across the street, intrigued by the myriad of interactions yet to play out between Buddy, Blondie, and Boyfriend.

When her bedroom door eventually opened, the affectionate couple strolled out looking relaxed and satisfied. Boyfriend was in his suit, shirt untucked, his tie loose and sloppy. More shockingly, Blondie was nude, her cheeks flushed pink, her long hair tousled.

"Why the hell is she naked?" Timmy asked. "Buddy's up from the couch, drooling like a dog over her body."

"Boyfriend doesn't seem to mind Buddy's gaze, just like the ass-grabbing earlier. He must enjoy showing her off. She probably loves that he loves it."

"Buddy's greeting Boyfriend now. Both men are smiling. What's going on, Boss?"

"The men just gave each other a special handshake," I replied. "I'm thinking they might be more than just buds. Good friends, likely. Maybe even best ones."

"Shoot, you think so?" Timmy asked.

"Wait, check out what Blondie's doing now," I said. "She's grabbed the beer off the coffee table. But Buddy's stopping her from drinking it—he's doing a masturbation gesture, admitting to them that he sullied it."

"Blondie and Boyfriend are laughing about it. But she's still holding the bottle, staring at it, swishing it around. She's saying something to the guys. Oh no, Boss, she wouldn't do that, would she?"

"She would," I said knowingly. "Grin on her face says as much. Blondie's gonna quench her thirst..."

As if in slow motion, we watched Blondie bring the bottle to her lips, tilting her chin up to gulp down Buddy's milky booze, all without batting an eyelash.

"Sheesh!" Timmy said. "Blondie's not a shy one! And look at her boyfriend, he's dying of laughter! The men are basically bowing to her! Boss, this is some wild stuff, huh!"

I had no response for Timmy. Frankly, I didn't know what to make of the dynamics at play across the street. I was captivated, in the same way those dumb reality dating shows manage to hook me to my couch, for way too many hours.

More interestingly, the attention aimed Blondie's way was sparking an irrational jealousy within me. She seemingly had not one, but two men at her feet, worshipping her like a queen. Love or lust, it didn't matter the flavor. I was envious, thinking about my own love life... no flavors of my own to sample.

***

Timmy and I continued observing the trio, simply lingering in her living room now. At one point, Blondie pointed up at her ceiling. The men nodded their heads, with Boyfriend gesturing at Buddy for some reason. If only I had a damn microphone in their unit.

Eventually, Boyfriend pulled out a tiny booklet from his suit pocket. Casually flashed it for the others. It looked like a passport. Blondie reacted by hugging Boyfriend tightly. Kissed him passionately on the lips.

Both men then departed the unit.

Timmy and I unglued ourselves from our spyglasses once more.

"Well, that's that," he said. "Closing thoughts, Boss?"

"I think I've put together the pieces," I said, like I'd solved a double homicide case. "Buddy must be driving his friend—Blondie's boyfriend—to the airport. Boyfriend's clearly got a work trip, hence his attire, the passport. But the two men made a pitstop at Blondie's unit, so that Boyfriend could have a farewell fuck with his girlfriend."

"But Boss, Buddy seems pretty friendly with Blondie. He grabbed her ass. Masturbated to her having sex. She even knowingly drank his spermy lager. Do you think there's more there between Buddy and Blondie?"

"Maybe. Who knows?" I replied. "Buddy could be one part of their throuple. Or maybe it's some kind of swinger situation. It's just throwing me off since Blondie and Boyfriend aren't married, which, usually is the case with these arrangements."

"All that's over my head," Timmy said, eyes back in his binoculars. "Anyway, looks like Blondie's retired to her couch to lie down. She's closed her eyes. Early evening nap time, it seems. Nude edition."

"Timmy, get your laptop out, try and find out who she is."

"What're you thinking, Boss?"

"There might be more to Blondie than we know. Maybe she is famous. I got video of her drinking that jizzy beer in the nude. This footage might be worth something after all..."

The Buddy

The sun had set, and Timmy and I remained tucked inside our stakeout spot. While a naked Blondie enjoyed her beauty nap, Timmy was hard at work on his research assignment, while I spent time reviewing footage.

"Okay, check this out, Boss," he said, staring at his laptop. "I knew she looked familiar. I've seen Blondie on a tall billboard ad off the downtown freeway. She's a model. Mid-twenties. Does swimsuits, lingerie, and general women's apparel."

"Name?" I asked.

"Belle Adelson."

"Belle the Blondie, eh? What about Boyfriend?" I asked.

"No matches yet on that front," he replied. "Neither for Buddy."

"No worries. Nice work, Timmy. Keep it up."

"Thanks Boss!" he said. "That means a lot. You're awesome too, by the way. The way you assessed their whole situation, beat by beat, basically reading lips, their body language. You never fail to amaze me, Kimmie. One of one."

I lingered on Timmy with furrowed brows, noting the egghead's compliments weren't sarcastic. I shook off his cute dimples and distracted myself by attaching my camera to my tripod, lens still pointed at Blondie's unit.

I buried a bashful eye in my viewfinder. "Timmy, can you get my case from my backpack? I'm gonna test out other lenses."

Seconds passed, and Timmy still hadn't handed me what I'd asked for. I returned my attention his way and was surprised to see him focused on the contents of a certain binder of mine: my photo portfolio.

"Boss, these photos..." He flipped from one plastic-sleeved page to another. "Are these non-pap photos you've taken?"

"Um, yeah," I said meekly. "Why?"

"They're incredible, Kimmie! The shadows, the lighting. The compositions are so crisp, cinematic—the still lifes, the landscapes, architecture ones too, all of them."

"Um, thanks." I felt my cheeks and they'd surprisingly grown hot. I couldn't remember a time someone had complimented my real photography work before.

"These photos belong in an exhibit or something," he said. "Maybe I can reach out to local studios later, see if they'd feature your work. I know a few that'd be interested!"

Timmy's suggestion ignited a flame of excitement in me. The idea of my photography being on display had always been my long-term goal. To think it could come to fruition sooner than I'd expected was thrilling. Hmm, maybe my assistant wasn't such an egghead after all.

A flash across the street caught my attention. I realized it was from Blondie's unit. I rushed to turn on my camera, then scurried to cut the lights in our unit.

"Timmy, grab your binoculars!" I said. "Her unit. Tell me what you see."

"Blondie's lights are on, and she's up from her sofa nap, still nude. She's at her front door... opening the door... and... Boss, you won't believe who's back... It's Buddy. And he's alone."

I tuned my camera's zoom to catch Blondie welcoming Buddy back inside her apartment. The burly man randomly held a step stool in one hand, a tool bag in the other.

Unsurprisingly, Buddy wasn't timid when it came to ogling Blondie's naked body. The fact that neither party was treating her nudity as unusual told me this scenario may have been a regular occurrence for them...

Blondie led him to her living room, right beneath a recessed light fixture.

"Her bulb must be dead," I said, noting the relative darkness of the spot. "Of course, duh. Buddy's gonna fix it."

Timmy and I watched as Buddy rose onto his step stool beneath the light fixture. He pointed to his bag, and Blondie withdrew a screwdriver to hand to him. He started undoing screws along a circular rim.

"Well, this is about as interesting as watching paint dry," Timmy said after a minute.

"Don't be so sure, Timmy. She's got that look of lust back in her eyes. Same one she had with Boyfriend earlier... Should be any moment now..." I pressed record on my camera.

Sure enough, Blondie's hand crept its way to Buddy's crotch. She began caressing his manhood over his pants, the prominent outline of his package teasing a large endowment.

"Yowzers," Timmy said, "she's rubbing him while he's doing handiwork. You could say they're both doing hand-iwork."

I giggled as I pressed record. Reconfigured my camera as well, to feed me the action on its display screen.

As pleased as I was to be nabbing this footage, sensing its potential for profit, I found myself growing dizzy with excitement. Never did I think I'd get aroused watching a light bulb be replaced. Felt like the light between my own legs had turned on, its lumens glowing brighter as I watched Blondie caress a growing bulge—one that didn't belong to her so-called boyfriend.

As Buddy screwed in the new bulb, a warm-colored light flickered on, shining down on him and Blondie, shifting the energy in the room. The new bulb was like a bright spotlight beaming onto a stage, cueing its performers to start their performance...

I watched as Blondie reached for the button of Buddy's pants. She unsnapped it without looking, her eyes not flinching off his. She slowly slid his zipper down, and it was like we could hear the metal hissing sound, even from our distance.

Timmy's gulp echoed in my ears as I stared at the screen of my camera.

Blondie peeled Buddy's pants down his thighs, revealing a thick hammer between his legs. The guy had gone commando, no underwear, as if he knew the proper attire for this solo visit. No need to wear what wouldn't be necessary.

Timmy and I were silent, watching Blondie deliver light kisses to Buddy's cock. She had a hand around his thigh, another on his ass, holding him steady on the stool as she wrapped her lips around his size.

She fed herself more of him, inch after inch, getting his head to roll back. The man's knees buckled, and she promptly kept him from falling.

"Good god," Timmy whispered to himself.

I tore my eyes momentarily to glance at Timmy, several feet away from me. He had eyes in his binoculars and, more crazily, one hand down his shorts—no shame in touching himself to the action. I considered chastising his vulgarity, but his instincts were more a catalyst than a nuisance.

Inspired, I snuck fingers below my airy skirt, under my panties, wanting my pussy to vibrate alongside the raunchy scene across the street. I watched as Buddy raked his fingers through Blondie's hair. He kept her still as he gently pumped her mouth.

I felt my breaths grow shorter, heavier, matching the twitch of my fingers. Timmy was just as audible on his side of the room. I could hear his own bustle, the friction of his hand bumping against the crinkly fabric of his shorts.

Eyes glued to my cam, I witnessed Buddy's rhythm grow rapid. His thrusts turned taxing, and I wished the best for Blondie's vocal cords. To my amazement, she handled his cock like a champ, not shying from the force, as if she'd weathered this rampage routinely.

Buddy withdrew and finally stepped down from his stool. He shed the clothes off his back like itchy snakeskin. Both of them were now naked: Ripped muscle on one end; a sexy hourglass on the other.

They wasted no time, with Buddy steering Blondie to her couch, arranging her on her back. He spread her legs wide like cracking open his favorite book. Dove straight into his favorite chapter, cock-first, plugging her folds with horsepower hips that followed.

Blondie wrapped her arms around his back, her nails clawed to skin, as his pelvis crashed repeatedly into the back of her thighs.

God, this scene had me so fucking turned on! Fingers rubbing my hood, I ramped up my speed, my pressure. I was envious, the way Buddy was pounding her. What a lucky woman Blondie was! To be wanted, desired like that.

I focused on my own cravings. Closed my eyes as I continued blitzing my button, fantasizing that Buddy's cock was drilling my sopping pussy.

A light gasp from across the room got me to peek an eye out. To my surprise, I caught Timmy staring at me from his seat, his binoculars on his lap, a visible erection poking up under his shorts.

I stared back at him, silent, no words exchanged. Our eye contact was unbreakable, our connection carnal. The bulb inside me radiated to blinding proportions... In this moment, I wasn't seeing Timmy as an assistant or employee. He was suddenly my want—my vehicle for pleasure. And I was past the point of embarrassment or second-guessing. I needed some cock and any would do!

"Condom," I said. "... Got one?"

Timmy sprang from his seat to scour his backpack. He ripped a square foil off a chain of six and pulled his shorts down. As he rolled the rubber on, I eyed his meat to gauge my meal. I hungrily licked my lips, more than pleased with the serving size.

"Gimme your chair!" I ordered. I set the armless chair to my liking, with its backside nearest my tripod. "Sit down," I said and he obeyed.

Swiftly, I positioned myself over his lap, legs on either side of his thighs. Lifted the hem of my skirt to aim my drop as Timmy held his pole upright. I began bending my knees as I braced for puncture, and the sweet stretch of penetration.

He paused my descent. "You sure, Kimmie?"

I grabbed his jaw. "Do you want this or not?!"

"Yes, of course I do."

"Then stop yapping! Hold it up for me."

He nodded and I held his shoulder for balance as I docked my pussy on his cock. Oh god, fuck yes! It was so thick and filling. Exactly what I needed! I indulged in the girthy goodness, swirled my hips like stirring sugar in my coffee.

"Shit, you feel so good," I said.

"Can I touch you?" he asked.

"Don't ask, just fucking do it," I said, stroking my hair back to release heat.

Timmy held my hips as I rocked on his lap. God, my body was burning up, restless, my pussy so slick and starved. I'd forgotten how good this shit felt. It'd been too long!

I glanced at my camera's display, checking in on our freaky friends. Blondie was bouncing like a bunny as she rode Buddy in a sitting position on her couch.

With me and Blondie both riding our men, the competitor in me suddenly wanted to compete—see if I could get my respective partner to come first, prove my pussy skills were more lethal than a model's.

I upped my pace, my power. Felt the burn in my thighs as I furiously polished Timmy's pipe.

"Are you going to come soon?" I asked, breathless.

"No, why?" he replied.

God, my legs were starting to kill me. Didn't know how much longer I could keep this up.

"I can take over," Timmy offered, reading my mind.

"Go for it!" I said urgently.

Timmy's hands scooped my ass cheeks to steady me, suspend me in place as his cock delivered upward thrusts that had me tilting my head in bliss, and biting my bottom lip.

Minutes of measured fucking and Timmy's energy never faltered. He stroked me good, doing so while seeking my eyes, as if wanting to make sure I was happy, that I too was getting what I needed from this exchange.

"Kimmie, I'm close," he whispered.

"Come then," I moaned out.

Timmy pulled me close as he let out a string of grunts. His hands dug into my back, his breath on my cleavage. I felt his cock pulse repeatedly inside me, inflating the latex bubble with his cum.

We both exhaled as we remained still in our seated positions, in no rush to make eye contact.

I inspected my camera and saw Blondie and Buddy still going at it. They were still on her couch, with him driving into her in doggystyle.

"Kimmie?"

Timmy's voice got me to finally face him. Still seated, I caught his expression. It wasn't quite lust, definitely not regret. He glanced at my lips, then back at my eyes, seeking permission. I must've inched forward, which he took as a sign.

Timmy leaned closer to touch lips, and I felt a jolt of electricity that scared me. I recoiled from the kiss and stood up, immediately took a few steps back.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to—"

"I'm your boss, Timmy... We shouldn't be kissing." I faced away and squinted sourly, feeling like a hypocrite, knowing that we'd more than just kissed. And that I'd been the one who'd initiated sex in the first place...

"Right, sorry Kimmie, you're right..." he said, sounding dejected.

I flicked on a lamp to vacuum up the awkward energy in the room. Still facing away, I smoothed out my shirt and hair to try and restore normalcy between us.

"Um, Boss... Your camera's still recording."

"I know," I said. "Are they still fucking?"

"They've finished, or are taking a break, at least," Timmy said.

I turned to finally face Timmy and saw he was monitoring my camera's screen.

"Boss, they're both naked on her balcony. Smoking cigarettes. And they're, um, looking in our direction..."

I walked up to my camera to inspect. "What's the problem?" I asked. "Not like they can see us."

"Are you sure?" Timmy asked in earnest. "You just turned on a lamp though. We're not exactly in the dark anymore."

"Well, we're across the street, a decent distance away," I argued. "Buddy and Blondie would need perfect 20/20 to make us out. We're not doing anything suspicious anyway."

"But your camera, on its tripod," he said. "It's right up against the window. Do you think they can see it?"

My limbs went full rigor mortis when I realized Timmy was making more sense the more he went on. I rushed toward the lamp, flipped its switch off to blanket us back into shadows.

"Boss, now they're heading back inside her unit. Buddy's got a phone to his ear. What are the odds he's calling the cops on us? And Blondie's just turned off all her lights. Do you think that's because she saw us? Saw your camera pointed their way?"

I let out a nervous breath. "You know what, um, let's hit the road. I think our night's done here. We've got more than enough footage."

"Kimmie, have we been made?"

I massaged my forehead with two fingers, wanting to stave off the stress of his question. "Timmy, just pack up all the equipment, please. Carry our stuff out."

The Barter

Once packed, Timmy and I exited the unit for the elevator bay. Waited forever for one to reach our floor, 30 stories up.

A lift finally came and spat us out into the lobby. As Timmy and I walked side by side, feet pointed toward the building exit, a figure appeared from behind a column to block our route—a tall blonde dressed in baggy sweatpants and a sweater.

Of course it'd be her! I tried exhaling out my trepidation, but it stuck sticky to my lungs.

"Hi," Blondie said to us.

"Um, hi?" I replied.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

"Do I... we... know you?" I asked.

"I think you do," Blondie said. "That camera sling on your friend's shoulder proves you know more about me than I'd prefer you to..."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said.

Blondie crossed her arms across her chest. "Listen, my friend's just outside this building, phone in his hand. One press of a finger and the police will be here in no time. So tell me, do you really wanna drag this out?"

"Dra-drag what out?" I asked, my nerves starting to rattle.

Blondie scoffed. "Y'know, this isn't the first time I've gotten a video creeper arrested. I know what soulless hacks like you do. You'll sell my privacy on the internet to perverts who'll pay for it. If I'm lucky, I won't end up on virus-ridden sites with too many ads."

"Hey!" Timmy said, interjecting. "It's not our fault your windows were uncovered! You got in our way. We were snapping photos of architecture from up high, minding our business."

Blondie snickered. "Unbelievable. I'm sure your reasoning will hold up just fine in front of a judge."

"What do you want from us?" Timmy asked firmly.

"The memory card from your camera, obviously," she said. "All the evidence you have of me today, or ever. Then maybe, just maybe, I'll let this all go..."

Timmy held the camera sling bag tightly to his body. "You're not getting our belongings."

Blondie stared daggers our way, aimed her phone at us and snapped a photo. "Okay fine, then we'll let the police decide your fate."

The mention of cops flooded my hairline with sweat and anxiety. I wasn't prepared to deal with the legality of our actions. I considered telling Timmy to just fork over the memory card. But worst case, what if we'd just be supplying Blondie with the ammo to rat us out regardless?

"Alright, listen here," Timmy said. "We'll make you a deal, Belle."

"Wow," she said, "so you know my name too?! Jesus, who are you people?! Forget the cops, I should call my friend over right now to handle this the old-fashioned way."

"No, wait!" Timmy said. "Just hear me out... We'll give you the memory card, but you gotta do something for us..."

"Oh this ought to be good," she said. "Let's hear it then."

"You gotta give my boss here a shot," Timmy said. "A photoshoot. Let her photograph you. We know you're a model. You must carry some clout if you're on a tall billboard off the freeway downtown."

Blondie rolled her eyes in disgust. "You're kidding if you think I'm gonna pose naked for you sick pervs."

"No, not naked," Timmy said. "A regular photoshoot. Something that can be added to a real portfolio. My boss here is a photographer. Look." Timmy pulled my photo binder out of my backpack and handed it to Blondie.

What the hell was even going on right now? This interaction was so surreal, I had no idea what to think. On the one hand, Timmy was steering this negotiation on our behalf, more confidently than I ever could. He was poised, fearless, standing tall with a strong jaw.

Then there was Blondie, holding my photography in her hands. She carefully flipped through the binder, assessing my work, page by page. I couldn't tell if she liked it, or thought it was crap. Her steely face revealed nothing.

Blondie handed the binder to me, then looked at Timmy. "Fine. Okay."

"Okay?" he asked.

She looked straight at me. "I'll give you a photoshoot."

"Wait, what?" I said. "Really?"

"If you really did take these pics, then you're not... untalented. But whatever shoot you have in mind, it won't involve me in a bikini or underwear. I'm gonna be fully clothed. And it's gonna be in public, where people can see me. Witnesses. I get to bring a bodyguard too."

"Fair enough," Timmy said.

"Most importantly," Blondie said, "I want that memory card. Now." She stuck her hand out.

Timmy withdrew it from the sling bag and gave it to her.

"This better not be a bait and switch," she said. "If you two try and scam me, you can count on me getting the cops involved. I've got a photo of your faces."

"You have our word," Timmy said.

"Good," she said. "I've got one final condition to seal this deal: I want a future favor in return."

"Wait, what?" I said, confused. "What kind of favor?"

"Not sure yet," she said. "But if I ever call you for it, you do it. No questions asked. Before you forget, you two are the savages that've squeezed me for a free photoshoot. So to make this truly fair, I'm gonna need that future favor."

Timmy looked at me to respond.

"Relax," Blondie added, "it won't involve anything illegal or sleazy. Nothing like the shenanigans you two get up to... So, do we have a deal or not?"

Timmy and I looked at each other. He shrugged, and I felt like it was time I injected a bit of my own resolve into this barter.

"You've got a deal," I said, extending a handshake.

Blondie shook my hand. "You two already know my name's Belle. Only fair I know yours."

"I'm Kimmie," I said. "That's Timmy."

Belle handed us a piece of paper she scribbled on. "There's my contact info. We'll be in touch about that photoshoot."

"Pleasure doing business with ya," Timmy said to her.

"Well," Belle said, dusting her hands, "glad we got this squared away. And that I won't have to deal with this kind of headache again."

I offered a joke, "Meaning what exactly? You've ordered drapes for your living room?"

Belle actually laughed. "Matter of fact, I'm moving out of my high-rise next week. Moving to a proper house, with my boyfri—" Belle quickly censored herself, as if she realized she'd shared too much with us strangers.

I immediately thought of the suited man who'd left for his flight. Guess he and Blondie were getting serious if they were moving in together. Where Buddy fit in that equation, I didn't know, nor cared enough to wonder in this moment.

Belle then started cackling, getting me to scrunch my eyebrows.

"Just thought of your guys' names," she said. "Kimmie and Timmy. Rolls off the tongue. You two make a cute team. Cute couple too."

"We're not a couple," I said, but Belle was already walking away from us.

***

After Belle left us, Timmy and I lingered in the lobby of our stakeout tower.

"Well, that whole interaction was... interesting," he said.

"What a crazy day," I said, shaking my head. "Crazy night."

"Did we cut a good deal, Boss?"

"You certainly did." I patted his shoulder for a job well done. "Good work, Timmy. You got us out of that pickle, big time. Even nabbed me a photoshoot with a real model. Hopefully, I can leverage that into something more."

"That's what I'm hoping for too," he said. "And, respectfully, it was your talent that got you that opportunity. Not me. I'm just the assistant."

"Hell, I think you've proven yourself more than that," I said. "I'm bumping up your pay. You deserve it."

"Oh! Um, thanks..." he said, worried eyes aimed at his feet.

"A pay bump's a good thing, Timmy..."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful," he said. "I think I just need to confess something I've been holding in."

I sighed. Immediately got the memo. "I see... You've found another job..."

"No, nothing like that," he said. "I just, um..."

"Just spill it, egghead."

Timmy took a deep breath, then looked straight into my eyes. "I'm in awe of you, Kimmie. Every day I get to work with you is a gift. Seeing your photo binder today, it absolutely blew my mind. Convinced me you deserve a real shot to prove what you're great at."

He continued, "And another thing... No matter how many celebs we've tagged, how many naked models we'll encounter, they don't compare to you. You're the most gorgeous woman I've ever met. Talented and beautiful. No brown on my nose to wipe. I mean it."

I stood frozen, completely taken aback. My cheeks felt like a toaster as I stared into Timmy's eyes. Somehow, I never realized he had green ones, shimmery emeralds that I found hard to pull away from.

Timmy continued, "Shit, I dunno if me sharing all this creates a weird conflict of interest between us. Personally, I hope I get to keep working with you, Boss. For as long as you'll have me."

I puffed out tiny breaths as I gathered my thoughts, feeling a familiar jolt of electricity shoot through me. Instead of fighting it, I allowed it to settle, until the shock shriveled into a pleasing buzz.

"Most days, I wonder why I hired you," I said, hiding my grin. "But days like today? They more than make up for it. Yes, you are an egghead. But you're my lovable egghead."

"So, so that's a good thing?" he asked earnestly.

"I appreciate you, Timmy. Should really tell you that more often. And that your support, your loyalty, it means a lot to me. Not to mention your random quips, you're always making me laugh. And your dumb dimples, sure, they're kinda cute... For the longest time, you've been in my camera's blind spot... But I've finally swapped out the lens, sharpened the focus. And I can't deny it, I really like what I see."

A smile filled Timmy's face as one filled mine. We locked eyes and there was no workplace boundary tall enough to stop me from stepping over it.

I pressed up to him and pushed off my toes, tilted my head and closed the gap to plant a kiss on his lips. I pulled his neck closer, my wrist grazing goosebumps below his ear. I had the same bumps below mine.

After our kiss, he simply stared at me, wide-eyed, and I playfully tapped his cheek to let him know this wasn't a dream.

"I'm speechless, Kimmie."

"Cool, and I'm hungry. Bet you are too. Let's get outta here."

I curled my elbow inside his, steered him with me as I guided us out of the building side-by-side.

"Hey Boss," he said, face gleaming with curiosity, "is it weird that we've already hooked up before our first date?"

I chuckled. "Just focus on picking a restaurant. We're eating well tonight, egghead. It's on me."

***

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it, I'd appreciate a vote, comment, and/or follow. This standalone story precedes the events of my completed voyeur-themed Belle series (in which Kimmie and Timmy don't appear, but I'm hoping they'll resurface again; they do owe Belle that favor...). If interested, I've got other loosely-connected Belle standalone stories. More info and updates on my Author Page. =)