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Him

She was there again this morning. Every time I've driven to work for the last fortnight, she's been there. I drive past a little row of terraced houses, and there she is on her front doorstep, wearing just a dressing gown and looking at me as I drive by. Of course, I can't see what's underneath it. Or at least, I couldn't until this morning. I usually drive pretty slowly through the village, and it's a good job, because today she looked straight at me, crooked her little finger as if to beckon me, and opened the front of her dressing gown. Well, I nearly crashed my car. She was completely naked underneath. I'd noticed that she was pretty enough, and her body was certainly no letdown in the brief glimpse I caught of it before she closed the gown again.

I pulled to a halt as safely as I could and got out of my car. She stayed where she was, looking at me. I made eye contact with her, a questioning expression on my face. She smiled enigmatically and went back into her house, leaving the front door open in a clear invitation. As though in a daze I mounted her front steps and followed her into the house. She was there, just over the threshold. As I stepped onto the mat, she kicked the front door shut. Looking at me steadily, she undid the belt of her dressing gown and let it slide seductively from her shoulders to the floor.

...

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