The Prey

I

The August boardwalk was a sultry wall of heat and chaos. We walked at a snail's pace, trapped in the flow of a summer-loving crowd, while the bass from the beach clubs made the air vibrate. Amid all that brazen, exposed skin, Alexandra--twenty-seven, with an almost girlish appearance--seemed to almost want to hide.

She had chosen to leave her long, dark hair down and wore a light, ivory cotton sundress with a tiny blue floral print. The dress had delicate spaghetti straps and flared just above the knee, something she hoped would let her blend in. The bodice hugged a petite torso, with small shoulders, a delicate neck, and firm breasts that barely filled an A-cup. Beneath it, though, the thin fabric couldn't hide her hips and a beautiful, rounded backside: a lush contrast to her frame, with long, shapely thighs that I loved watching move with her every step.

I squeezed her hand twice, catching her attention with our usual signal. She looked around, searching for the target I had spotted, the one I knew would catch her eye. She spotted her instantly, about thirty feet ahead of us.

She seemed a few years younger than Alexandra, with pitch-black hair tied high in a sleek ponytail. She wore a black bodycon micro-dress, so short and tight that with every stride in her high heels, it rode up, exposing her tanned skin. She walked with a deliberate confidence, swaying her hips as if the street were her personal runway. She knew perfectly well that every eye was on her.

"Look at that slut," Alex whispered in my ear, letting out a soft laugh. The words tumbled out, with the irreverent tone of teenage boys hanging out and checking out girls.

I played along, enjoying her boldness. "Quite a view. Look at those legs," I replied in a low voice.

"And that ass!" she chimed in, her eyes locked onto the tight black dress. "Look at the way those heels make it sway... I really want to see her face."

We fell into step behind her, moving discreetly and blending into the crowd, taking our time. Every now and then, we whispered another comment about the girl, noticing how her curves shifted under the dress, and how she was chatting away with her small group of friends. We wondered what she liked to do in bed, and when the last time she'd done it was. Alex elbowed me, giving me a knowing laugh.

"How often do you think she does it?" she asked me, but foot by foot, the dynamic was shifting: the jokes were thinning out, her tone becoming less playful and much warmer.

"I wonder how she moves when she comes..." she told me after a rather long silence, her voice a little raspy.

Then, as if remembering to keep up the playful facade, she let out a quick chuckle, but it was short, forced: a mechanical reflex that was becoming harder and harder to produce. She was literally devouring her prey with her eyes, pouring every ounce of her energy into it.

Then, the group of friends stopped and turned around. We kept walking straight ahead, moving toward them through the flow of the sidewalk, until we crossed paths just inches apart. Alexandra's stride broke rhythm for a fraction of a second, slowing down imperceptibly.

II

The girl walked on, laughing and winking at her friends, with a playful, deliberately sexy confidence. The low-cut, tight black dress showcased her plush breasts--probably a full B or C cup--evidently braless, clearly showing her cleavage and the way her underbust bounced with every step. I felt Alex stiffen as her gaze, in those brief moments, shifted from the girl's face straight to that specific detail, before lingering on the smooth skin of her legs as they passed us, leaving a trail of sweet perfume in their wake.

Alexandra waited a moment before turning back with me, keeping a low profile. But the laughter was completely gone now. Her shield of irony had shattered after taking in those final details: the exposed breasts, the heavy makeup, the voluptuous lips.

"I knew she had the face of a hooker, too," Alex muttered.

All the playfulness had drained from her voice. It was now heavy with a new urgency, almost trembling from the sheer intensity of the attraction. As always, she retreated into cruder language the stronger the attraction grew, as if to prove to herself that a carnal urge had nothing to do with who she really was.

We kept following her from behind, but the laughter was completely gone now. Silence had fallen between us. I could feel the tension in Alex's arm, the feverish grip of her fingers. We weren't playing anymore: we were feeding the obsession.

"Look at that slut..." Alex repeated after a long silence.

I noticed it was the exact same phrase from the beginning, but this time uttered without any ironic safety net, dropped into the dim light with absolute seriousness, a hint of desire in her voice that died out with a soft sigh.

Suddenly, the girl and her friends veered sharply toward the brightly lit entrance of a noisy club, vanishing into the crowd. The prey had slipped away. Alexandra froze on the sidewalk, motionless, her wide eyes staring into the void past the people swarming in and out of the venue. I stopped right beside her, while the flow of the crowd kept streaming past us, indifferent.

Alex stepped closer to me. Her breathing was shallow, her gaze fixed, still lost in that tight black dress.

She pressed herself against me, her shoulder tight against mine, and whispered in my ear in a barely audible voice: "She left me so horny... I can't take it anymore. I need to come."

I looked at her, feeling my own pulse quicken from the sudden urgency written all over her face. "What do you want to do, Alex? We're in the middle of a crowd," I asked, squeezing her slender waist.

"Let's go to the car, please. Let's go to the car, I can't wait."

III

I guided her quickly toward the nearby parking lot. Alex walked fast, tense, her arousal now dictating the rhythm of her legs. We got into the car, and the thud of the doors closing cut out the chaos of the boardwalk, leaving only the claustrophobic heat of the cabin and the subtle scent of Alex's skin. There were no people in the parking lot, but the orange glow from the streetlights filtered through the windows, dimly lighting the interior and leaving a very real risk that someone passing by might see something.

I told her so, but it was as if that vulnerability was the final push Alexandra needed. She didn't waste time on foreplay. She shifted in the passenger seat to accommodate her body: she positioned herself with her back against the window, her beautiful legs together and stretched out to the side, seated sideways with her left side against the seatback. Then she tilted her pelvis upward at a forty-five-degree angle, sending the ivory dress sliding up to her stomach. The orange glow of the streetlight cut diagonally across her bare thighs and the rounded curves of her backside, still hugged by the high-cut, light-colored panties she had chosen to keep on.

She stayed still like that for just a moment, looking at me as if asking permission to betray me. I learned long ago that I could never be the one she desires that way. I leaned my back against the driver's side door, becoming the guardian of her space.

"Show me how you think about her," I said in a low voice.

Alex closed her eyes. Isolated in the darkness behind her eyelids, she shut me out with disarming ease, focusing solely on the mental projection that was burning her up. She reached her right arm behind her back, slipping her hand between her buttocks to reach herself from behind.

I watched her cup her soft core, with her fingers pressed flat and heavy against her. Her middle finger explored, catching slightly over the ridges of her flesh through the cotton, until it locked into the exact spot. Then, she squeezed her thighs tight around her hand.

The slick sound of friction against the cotton filled the cabin at that rhythm. Alex didn't make much noise; her pleasure was made of heavy, shallow breaths that made her petite chest heave.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked, trying to find a way into her pleasure.

With her eyes closed, her pelvis thrusting back and forth against her own hand, she answered in short, broken gasps--disjointed monosyllables heavy with an excitement that had been bottled up for too long. It was as if she were offering her body to the image of the other girl: "That ass... what an ass..." she gasped, moving her fingers and hips in a steady rhythm.

"Did you like the way she moved?"

"Yes... such a hooker... a beautiful hooker..." Her voice came out broken, thick with pleasure, whispered low through her half-open lips.

In her mind's eye, the tight black dress was swaying again; the deep cleavage and that flirty face were right there. "Such a slutty face..."

As her hips began to move in wider arcs, Alex, driven by a sudden impulse, pulled her hand away, keeping up the pressure and driving the rhythm solely by squeezing her thighs. With that same hand, damp from her own heat, she began to caress her buttocks and outer thighs, tracing her own curves as if she were touching the ones she had seen on the boardwalk. She was so beautiful as she seemed to make love to herself.

"That ass... those tits..." she sighed out.

I knew this was the only moment she would drop her guard.

"You want to fuck her, don't you?"

In response, her arm reached behind her, her hand settling once more between her thighs. The expression on her face shifted, contorting into an almost pained grimace, as if the sheer intensity of that illicit pleasure was actually hurting her. The flow of words cut off entirely. There was no more room for formulated thoughts.

"Come for her..." I whispered, completely captivated.

At the climax, as her petite frame stiffened and her legs locked violently under the deep thrusts of her hips, nothing was left but long, deep, voiceless exhalations--mouthing hollow "aaaaahs" into the car while the violent, liberating orgasm arched her back against the seat. One last, delayed thrust, and her final, raspy "aaaaah" hung in the heavy air.

Then, slowly, the tension drained from her muscles. Silence filled the cabin, broken only by the gradual sound of her breathing trying to find its normal rhythm. Alex kept her eyes closed for a few moments longer, exhaling softly, as if she were surfacing from some distant depth.

Her pelvis slid back, settling into the seat. With a lazy, slightly trembling motion, she guided the hem of the ivory dress back down her thighs, smoothing out the fabric. When she finally opened her eyes, the dim orange light in the car reflected a completely different gaze: the feverish boldness from our walk had vanished, giving way to a soft, almost timid vulnerability. She looked at me, instantly casting her eyes down with a shy half-smile, as if to apologize for how far she had gone, yet searching my eyes again for that familiar look.

I reached my hand across the seat, caressing her delicate neck and petite shoulder. Alexandra surrendered to the touch, tilting her head toward my fingers, grateful that I had been there--the sole witness to her most intimate secret.