In a Bedroom, Sleeping

The Consensual Stalker

first -
He walked into the room, sat in the large overstuffed chair in the corner, and looked all around. There was the bathroom door off to the right, and on the opposite wall, the closet door, and in between a large armoire that held some folded clothes and a television set. He thought, what an interesting place to conceal a small camera. And on the wall opposite, there was a queen size bed, with a nightstand on either side, each with a lamp, and one with a clock that shines the time in a circle on the ceiling:

12:55 A

Sunday

He looked at his watch, and noticed a difference, pulled out the stem and adjusted it to 12:57, centered the second hand at zero, and waited for 12:57 to appear on the ceiling, then pushed the stem back in; there, perfect.

He got up and walked over to the bed, and looked at the items on the far night stand, just the lamp, the clock, a couple of magazines and a paperback book. On the near night stand was the matching lamp, a cell phone, a glass of water and a prescription bottle. He picked up the bottle and read the label, Dalmane, Take as needed for sleep.

She was sound asleep, making a soft slow breathing sound, not quite a snore. She laid flat face down, arms wrapped around her pillow, head resting on her left cheek, her hair spread across her cheek, her forehead, her neck and shoulders. Her right leg was pulled up and out, bent at the knee. She was wearing a pair of bikini panties, nothing else. He put his hand on the headboard, and leaned over looking down at her, she seemed to have the slightest smile on her face, but was definitely deep in sleep.

With his free hand he began to ever so lightly trace one fingertip across her shoulders, and down across her biceps, over her elbow and down her forearm to her wrist. Then he ran the fingertip slowly back up her arm, across her shoulders and down the other arm. She did not stir or seem to sense his touch in any way. He wondered if she was that sound a sleeper, or if the sleeping pill had dulled her senses. He ran his fingertip back up her arm, to her shoulders and ran it up and down her neck, at the back first, then up the sides and back, and still there was no reaction.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he put two fingers at the base of her neck, and begin tracing then down either side of her backbone, circling it, over, back and forth, and then down to the next bone, pressing ever so slightly, a tender teasing touch. He continued working down each vertebrae, down to the curve of the small of her back, and then back up the rising slope toward her buttocks, lightly massaging her skin, up and down and then back up, an inch or so at a time. When he reached the waist band of her panties, he turned his hand and pushed the fingers under the waistband spreading her cheeks apart just slightly as his fingers slide deeper and deeper into the cleft. The waistband slipped up his fingers and onto the back of his hand, and he stopped. With his fingers resting between her cheeks, he suddenly considered how much he had touched her, with absolutely no response, what so ever.

He stopped and was very still for a moment, not moving his hand, listening for her breathing. It was still soft and steady, calm and nearly that same soft snoring sound. He slowly began to reverse his movement and trace his two fingers back up her spine, back toward her neck. When his fingers reached the base of her neck, he massaged her neck at her hairline, up the sides and back down to her shoulders, still, no reaction. He lifted his hand off of her skin and just sat, looking at her back heave and settle slowly as she slept, undisturbed. He was tempted to jostle her and awaken her, but decided better of it, thinking that he ought to leave soon.

He looked over her body, so lovely and calm, so relaxed in her sleep. His gaze went to the back of the thigh of her bent leg, and that spot where her buttock turned to her thigh. He reached over and placed the palm of his hand fully on the upper part of the back of her thigh, feeling the warmth and softness of her skin, it aroused him to touch her so intimately. He thought better of it, removed his hand, and stood up, looking up and down the length of her lovely nearly naked body, her smooth skin and her well toned muscles.

He moved back to the headboard, braced himself and leaned over again, and looked down at her face, she still had that same partial smile, partially covered by her tousled hair. With the fingers of his free hand he gently combed her hair back, off of her face, up over the side of her head and tucked as much as he could behind the back of her ear. He could now clearly see her face and the side of her neck. He walked over to his jacket, reached into the pocket and took out the length of ribbon he had brought with him. He returned to the side of the bed, combed more of her hair back into the semblance of pony tail, and tied the ribbon around the gathered strands of hair, and then fashioned a bow.

He walked over to the chair, picked up his jacket and walked out of the room, down the hall, across the living room and out the front door, locking it behind him.
. . . continued . . .