Never Make the Last Out at Third
Keywords: Last, Third, Make, the, Never, at, Out,
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"WARNING:
This story contains graphic sexual descriptions. If you don"t like, or may be offended by, romantic stories augmented by explicit sex, read no farther.
This story is intended for adults only. Minors should in no way read any of what follows. The following is entirely a work of fiction.
The events and characters described are completely imaginary."
* * * * *
Frank looked at his watch; 15:30, local time. He turned his attention to the sliding glass door of the apartment immediately across the courtyard. As sure as the time on the clock itself, the smoke-colored glass pane slid and the girl appeared.
The young lady was a classic beauty, a long and leggy blonde, with a body more athletic than trim. Every strand of her shoulder-length hair not only shimmered like gold, but also managed to somehow stay in place no matter how she maneuvered her muscular, yet limber, form. She was a woman really, Frank knew, but somehow he still thought of her as a girl.
Everyday she came onto her balcony to tan. Everyday she wore the same thing: A light blue skirt and a similarly colored bikini-style top. Everyday she would peal that top off and spend half an hour under the natural sun, in spite of the fact that there were faster and safer methods of achieving the uniform bronze tone that graced the blonde's epidermis.
Frank was a confirmed breast-man and he nearly drooled every time he observed her heavenly hooters under their thin veil of azure, especially since he knew that veil would be removed. Someday, if he maintained his vigilance, he was bound to catch a glimpse. Thus he gawked through his own smoked, single-direction, windows while she reclined out of view behind the similar glass that made up the railing of her balcony.
As she did everyday, the girl flipped the skimpy blue garment so that one of the cups dangled tantalizingly over the outside of the glass. Frank sighed and closed his eyes, imagining what a beautiful bounty lay just out of sight. After half a minute of such daydreaming, he opened his eyes, stood, and retired to his study.
Frank paused for a moment as he reached his computer. He wondered again why he so coveted the few minutes per day he got to view her partially clad form. He could see many more women easily from his computer screen. Most of them would be prettier too. "On," he commanded.
The machine hummed instantly to life. "Yes, Master."
Frank smiled. He imagined the blonde addressing him in the same manner. He felt his cock twitch in his trousers. "Stocks," he ordered.
"Yes, master." Frank"s portfolio filled his three-by-two meter screen.
Frank nodded as he perused his investments. "E-G-&-G," he said. "Buy all you can at eight or less within the next hour."
"Yes, Master," the device replied. Instantly, the figures on the screen began to change, reflecting the machine"s compliance with the man"s instructions.
Frank continued to analyze the display and issue additional instructions until the machine said, "Master, the time is fifteen-forty-three, local daylight time."
"Complete existing instructions and then power down," Frank said, rising.
"Yes, Master."
As he had done for countless days this spring and summer, Frank moved to his recliner and faced his own balcony, and the balcony beyond. Two minutes later, a hand appeared briefly above the railing to retrieve the dangling blue garment.
Frank smiled and leaned forward in his seat, anxious to not miss a glimpse of his dream girl.
She rose slowly and faced Frank, apparently lacing the straps behind her. Then she smiled, tilted her head and issued a slight, yet seductive wave.
Frank froze. His eyes widened. His scalp and the sides of his face tingled as if all the blood had suddenly been drained from the tissue.
The girl smiled even more broadly before turning and disappearing into her abode.
Frank sat back and clasped his nose between two sets of vertical fingers. Surely she could not really see him, he thought. "House," he demanded.
"Yes, Master."
"Check windows for opaqueness integrity."
"The auditory and visual concealment features of all transparent surfaces are functioning within normal parameters."
Frank leaned back in his chair and stretched. She must have guessed, he told himself- but how? Maybe she didn"t guess, he quickly ventured. He nodded as he considered the possibility. Perhaps she had waved in case he was watching.
Frank scanned his own memories, wondering if, on the chance occasions he had seen her in the condominium"s compound, he had ever gazed at her too longingly; or for too long.
Frank rose and returned to his study. "On," he demanded, taking his seat. "List of videos featuring the girl in the blue swimsuit."
"The Girl in the Blue Swimsuit," the computer responded, as the identical words appeared on the screen, followed by a list of dates.
"Play my favorite," Frank instructed.
"Yes, Master."
Frank sighed as the darling of his dreams appeared on his monitor. "Zoom," he ordered. "Focus on the breasts. Keep them full screen." He licked his lips as he involuntarily salivated.
"Rating," Frank demanded. "Overall desirability of the girl in the blue swimsuit, within gender and apparent age categories."
"Overall rating of the girl in the blue swimsuit, eighty-eighth percentile," the computer responded. "In this video, ninety-first percentile."
Frank sighed. "And my ratings."
"Forty-forth percentile within your gender and apparent age categories."
"And within her apparent age category?"
"Thirty-seventh percentile."
Frank knew the numbers by heart already. Still, he tortured himself with them weekly, and always he wondered why. He scowled as he recalled her wave.
"Factor net-worth into my tally," Frank instructed.
"Seventy-eighth percentile."
Frank smiled as he considered his score. "At least it's up a point from last time I asked." With a sigh, his smile melted. "She lives in the same condo as me, She probably has just as much money. That's ok, I don't really want to buy her anyway." He squinted at the floor. "Do I?"
Frank looked once more to the stunningly rotund pair of breasts that graced his display. "Yes", he decided, "I would gladly buy her if I could."
"Master, the time is fifteen-forty-three, local daylight time."
Frank jerked from his nap. Shaking his head he made his way to his recliner. He smiled as he saw the dainty blue top still hanging over the balcony rail.
Frank shifted forward again and rubbed his hands together. "House. Begin video recording now." If she waved again, he was determined to capture and analyze the event.
As if on cue, the blonde reached to grasp her clothing, donning it in the same manner she always did, back to him. She rose and looked once again toward Frank"s apartment, but she did not wave.
The woman walked slowly to her door, which slid open at her approach. She walked through the open portal. Frank frowned and emitted a massive sigh as the door closed, terminating his all too brief view of the woman he worshipped. "Cease recording," he instructed.
As if by Frank"s command, the glass in the girl"s door suddenly changed from an opaque grey to nearly transparent. There she stood, on the far side of a well-illuminated room.
She smiled and splayed her bra-like top, exposing the majority of her bosom.
"Record! Record!" Frank demanded.
The girl massaged her massive mammaries for mere seconds before covering them once again. Then, with her index and middle finger, she seductively beckoned. Then her lips moved and the glass went grey.
"Cease recording," Frank demanded. He jumped from his seat and rushed up the corridor. "Begin playback!"
Frank took his seat, but only examined the monitor briefly before he turned his gaze to the floor with a dejected sigh. By accident or design, the girl had chosen a spot where he could see her, but his camera could not. "How did she know?" he muttered absently to himself.
"Unable to interpret command, Master," the computer replied.
"Cease playback!" Frank snapped. He scrutinized his memory. "How did she know?"
The man rubbed his face with both palms. "Mirror." He looked into the now reflective display, examining himself from various angles.
Finished with the cursory inspection of himself, Frank scrutinized his memory a second time. "I did see her beckon didn't I? Yes, I'm sure she did."
Holding his fist before his face, Frank extended his index and center fingers. He locked his eyes on the digits as he flexed them.
Frank looked back to the mirror. "Does she have me confused with someone else? Or maybe she just didn't get a good look at me."
Frank tilted his head, checking his scruffy beard that was already hinting of grey, though he was barely thirty. His nose he judged to be too long and his figure too gaunt, both entirely accurate assessments.
Frank leaned back, arching his spine over the back of his chair. Running his hands through his hair as if massaging his brain, the man tried to discern what, if anything, he should do.
"Computer. Yellow pages," Frank demanded as he snapped forward in his seat. "Harlots. Blonde. Mid-twenties. Big tits. Medium height and build. All night service."
Frank examined the selections on his display. He shook his head as the first list of candidates appeared. "Female only!" he barked.
Frank perused the updated advertisements for the better part of an hour, but found something wrong with every purveyor. With a prolonged sigh, he admitted that what was wrong with them was simply that they were not her. "Off," he demanded.
Frank stared at the blank screen. "What makes her so special, so different? Other girls have big tits; lots of girls really."
Unable to answer his own question, he rose and returned to his parlor. "House, shift the video camera one and a half meters to my right. Maintain the orientation." He looked again across at the opaque panes that potentially concealed his beloved.
"What else could she have meant?" Frank mumbled as he considered how she had moved her fingers.
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Keywords: Last, Third, Make, the, Never, at, Out,