Turning The Tables On Tina Ch. 1

"She's watching us again," Lori says.

"Who?"

"Next door. Upstairs window. Look up, but don't be obvious about it"

I cast my eyes up, towards the open window. It's a hot day, too hot to do much but make languid, indolent love in our upstairs bedroom. The small table fan on the dresser circles lazily, cooling the post-coital sweat from our sprawled bodies. Lori's hand is resting on my breast, idly fingering my still-hard nipple.

Lori's right, of course. Straight across the way in the neighbors' house, there's another open window facing directly into ours. A slight breeze ripples the filmy curtain to reveal the shadowy silhouette behind it.

I'm not sure how this makes me feel, being spied on. When Lori and I moved into this neighborhood you could see some eyebrows go up; not everyone being thrilled about having an openly lesbian couple for neighbors. It's taken months of careful social navigation, coupled with a certain amount of discretion, for us to feel accepted. Still, we can't escape the occasional stare. And even though I'm not ashamed of our lifestyle, I don't like feeling as if I were an exhibit at the zoo.

"How long?"

"Only noticed just now, but she's probably been watching for a while"

"You mean she saw us... " Gasping at the violation, I roll over, pull the sheet up to hide my nakedness, only vaguely aware of the absurdity of having to cover myself even inside my own bedroom.

"Not just that, but I think I've seen her before, only I couldn't be sure." Lori gets up, pulls on panties, and looks for her clothes. Finds a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, yanks them on angrily, and gets up to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"To give the little bitch a piece of my mind," she stomps off. "Someone needs to put a stop to this."

Good God, I think, what had she seen? I roll over on my back and close my eyes. How many times had she watched us in bed together, committing acts that we had thought were private?

I had slept late this morning, waking up in the middle of the most erotic dream. The late morning sun had flooded the room with light from the open window. Still wet and feeling the same pulsating pleasure in my pussy that just moments earlier was part of my dream world, I slowly pulled back the sheet and found Lori's hand there, stroking me gently and watching for my response. I couldn't help a loud moan escaping my lips, as the tip of her slick pink tongue flicked out to tease my throbbing clitoris, licking up first one side and then the other of my hungry slit. Although she's normally the dominant one in our relationship, she sometimes surprises me with little rewards when she's feeling especially tender.

It had felt so special then, so intimate. Now, in light of these new developments, I feel dirty. Suddenly I bolt for the shower, turning on both taps full blast to let the water course over my body, trying to wash off the girl's prying stare that coats me like a layer of grime.

In spite of my shame my nipples harden at the memory of our earlier lovemaking. The feel of Lori's fingers on my thighs, coaxing them open, exposing the molten depths of my sex to her hungry mouth. Her tongue teasing my labia freeing my tender clit from its fleshy sheath, circling it like a predator stalking its quarry. Flicking across the hard little bud, teasing it, sending jolts of electricity up and down my spine, before probing into me with a burning intensity that sends me into spasms of ecstasy. A moan of pleasure and agony escapes my lips as I put my hand between my legs and feel a wetness there not from the shower. The hot water pouring over my faces mixes with my tears.

I hear noises downstairs and quickly shut off the water. Must not let Lori see me like this, I think. A door slams, followed by voices. I throw on a sundress, then run down to see what's going on.

The voices downstairs become discernible; Lori's and another person's. They're arguing about something. I see them just inside the front door, struggling. Lori's got her hand clamped around the arm of a young blonde girl, barely sixteen really, and she's dragging her into the living room. The girl is resisting with everything she's got, but she's no match for a pissed off lesbian, especially a former college women's rugby player.

"Sit down, my love," Lori motions me toward one of the living room armchairs. "We have a visitor."

Intrigued, I obey without hesitation. Lori leads our guest to the other armchair and sits down, the girl still struggling in her grip. Lori yanks down on her arm, provoking a squeal of protest . "Stop wiggling around," she orders her captive, "or I'll slap you silly."

She lets go, and the girl stands there, rubbing her arm. On closer inspection she's actually a bit older than I first thought, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, although her body is thin like an adolescent's. I notice that her feet are bare, the toes painted a pale shell pink.

"Well Miss," says Lori conversationally, as if this were a completely normal situation. "I suppose some introductions are in order. I'm Lori, and this is Debbie here. But of course, you've already made yourself pretty familiar with the two of us, haven't you?"

The girl just stands there, blinking, which only serves to make Lori more impatient. "Well? Were you or were you not spying on us all this time?" The girl nods dumbly. Feelings of shame wash over me again and I cringe in my seat.

Lori settles back into the chair, apparently satisfied. "Well, I guess that 's all out in the open then. And now that you've seen all there is to see about us, it's time for you to return the favor." A slow smile plays across her lips. "Come on, then. Let's see what you've got to show us."