I’ve Got My Eyes on You
by Marlene Yong

For some time Eleanor was convinced she had acquired
a stalker.

She could see him now, reflected in the window of Debenhams, standing on the other side of Oxford Street, trying to appear casual. She’d stopped to admire a Prada leather handbag behind the plate glass, when she had become aware of his presence for at least the fourth time in a fortnight. Twice when he’d parked a battered Fiesta only a few bays from hers at a local Tesco: once on an evening as she was leaving the Soho building where she worked as personal assistant to a movie producer. And now here he was again.

His furtiveness had attracted her attention, though he always glanced away, pretending innocence, when she happened to look in his direction

It was ridiculous, Eleanor told herself impatiently. He couldn’t have been over 20, perhaps much younger. Even the hood which he kept tugging around his face failed to hide his boyish features.

It was flattering, she supposed, for a woman in her late forties. For reassurance, she peered at her own reflection in the window.

Her figure? Not bad. Breasts a little on the heavy side. Shoulders perhaps a bit too wide. Legs? Mmm! That’s where she could award herself top marks. She was tall and her legs were long and shapely, verging on plump: the kind which made men stare appreciatively, not the muscular matchsticks of models. She was one of the few women she knew of her age who could get away with wearing light-tan fully fashioned stockings.

As for her face? Well, that needed some work. Make- up disguised the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes along with the slight tightness of her mouth and the sharpness of her nose. But she’d retained the fresh complexion, long russet hair and the deep marine glow in her eyes which had first attracted Roland.

Not for the first time, she wondered if Roland still found her as appetising as he’d claimed to do when she’d moved in with him over five years before. Their relationship had seemed a perfect union, he a high-rolling accountant in the City, she an independent-minded woman in a well-paid job. Unexpectedly, Roland had also proved a skilful and inventive lover. At first.

When his sex drive had waned, she’d tried the lingerie route – the skimpiest of panties, a cut-away bra and the uncomfortable but sexually alluring suspender belts worn with the sheerest stockings. They aroused no reaction whatsoever. She was not entirely disappointed, though. The thought of fucking an automaton – even a powerful and successful one – turned her off completely. She wondered if he had lost interest in her body, as she had in his. All the same, the lack of sex left her constantly horny.

Abruptly, Eleanor noticed that her stalker had vanished, merged with the crowds of lunch-hour shoppers thronging Oxford Street. At that moment she determined always to carry a hairspray in her bag, for self-defence. As a precaution, of course. One never knew…

Later that afternoon, Eleanor’s film-producer boss, Charles Crouch, asked her for the sixth time in a fortnight to stay late to help with computing the finances of a new blockbuster he was setting up. He also ordered, as usual, a dinner to be delivered from a local restaurant. A skeletal man, well over 70 years old, Crouch had never made so much as a pass at her.

Eleanor readily agreed. Anything rather than return to another evening of non-communication in the Belsize Park flat she shared with Roland.

It was after eleven when they left the building. Crouch kissed her platonically on the cheek, thanked her and hailed a passing cab. Eleanor locked the front door and was heading for her little Citroen, when she recognised her stalker’s Fiesta parked inconspicuously 100 yards away. A familiar figure sat hunched behind the wheel.

She felt for the hairspray and strode angrily towards the car, wrenched open the passenger door and swung inside before the stalker had time to react. Only later did she think about what a risk she had taken.

‘All right!’ she snapped. ‘What’s this about?’

A scent of aftershave and the pleasant odour of male perspiration hung about the interior of the car. Her stalker was even younger than she’d estimated but tall and well built. He stammered unconvincingly that he had no idea what she was talking about, that he was merely sitting in his car waiting for a friend. But after a couple of minutes he must have realised he was babbling incoherently and lapsed into silence.

‘You’ve been following me, spying on me. Well, haven’t you?’

‘No … no. I’ve never seen you before.’

‘Like you didn’t see me today outside Debenhams from across Oxford Street? Or at Belsize Park Tesco a fortnight ago? Or when you sat here the other night waiting for your fictional friend?’

By now, he was virtually cowering against the driver’s door. But Eleanor would not let up. ‘Now… do I call the police and tell them you’ve been stalking me? Or do you tell me what’s going on?’

‘Please don’t call the police. I– I’m an enquiry agent. My job was to follow and watch you.’

A private eye? Following her?

The car was cramped and uncomfortable. Reaching a decision, Eleanor said harshly, ‘I think we should discuss this elsewhere. Come with me!’

Her tone brooked no resistance. She climbed out of the car. He followed reluctantly and she marched him back to the silent office building. Pulling out her keys she led him into the conference room where her boss consulted directors, distributors and scriptwriters. It was a warm, well-decorated chamber, with a big rectangular table, several upholstered chairs and a couple of armchairs with cushions at the far end.

Eleanor shoved him into a chair and perched on the edge of the conference table facing him. She felt like a police interrogator in a B movie.

‘Now talk!’ she commanded. ‘Your name?’

‘Harry – Hal for short.’

‘Who engaged you to watch me?’

‘Your husband.’

‘Partner,’ she corrected.

He looked confused, went on, ‘Oh, sorry, er … partner. He came into our office a month back, saw the boss. Said you were arriving back from work very late two or three times a week. Thought you might be screwing someone else. Paid cash in advance for us to tail you and watch your movements.’

As Hal spoke she assessed him. A strong face, jaw maybe projecting a bit, wide shoulders, hair long – which she always found sexy. Brooding brown eyes with very dark lashes that made him look younger than he was. Instinctively, she wondered how good he might be in bed.

The thought of having sex with him made her go hot all over. She became aware she was rubbing her thighs together, creating a delicious friction in her groin. Hal must have noticed too for, as he talked, his eyes drifted repeatedly to the tops of her legs – her skirt had ridden up when she’d sat on the table ledge, leaving them exposed.

‘I joined the firm just a few months ago,’ Hal went on. ‘There’s only the three of us. The boss fell ill, was advised by his GP to take it easy for several weeks. The other operative is investigating a fraud and can’t devote the time to domestic infidelities. So it fell to me. It was my first case on my own. I haven’t had much experience,’ he finished lamely.

He hesitated. ‘There’s something else. I’m not sure … I don’t even know if I dare tell you.’ The way he was staring at her crotch sent little darts of excitement rippling through her clitoris. Suddenly her breasts felt too heavy for her blouse and the friction of the cutaway bra was causing her nipples to tingle delightfully. They always grew dark and swollen when she grew aroused. Were they visible through the thin material, she wondered.

‘You’ve gone this far. You might as well give me the whole story.’

‘When your … er … partner consulted my boss,
I overheard bits of the conversation. It sounded as if he’s got a bit on the side himself and is trying to prove you are being unfaithful, so that he can kick you out of the flat where the two of you live.’

The bastard! No wonder Roland hadn’t even attempted to fuck her recently. He was getting his oats elsewhere.

A thought struck her. ‘If I’m meant to be cheating on him late at night, why do you follow me around during the day?’

It was the first time Eleanor had ever seen a man blush. Hal wouldn’t look her in the eye. She began to wonder, was it only because of his job that he’d stalked her? She desperately wanted a man to find her desirable.

Burning resentment churned inside her also. So Roland wanted to exchange her for some tart he was fucking and was trying to find a way to chuck her out of the flat, was he? Well, she’d show him.

‘You don’t believe I’m shagging anyone, do you?’ Her voice grew husky. ‘Is it because you don’t think I’m sexy enough?’

Eleanor raised one knee a few inches and clasped her hands around it. This gave Hal a direct view up her skirt to her thighs and panties. A familiar tic flickered in her vagina. She felt her pussy grow moist. She didn’t care that her lavender silk panties would be revealing a gradually darkening stain.

‘Oh, no! Quite the opposite.’ Hal, no longer on the defensive, sounded more confident.

‘I’m a lot older than you.’

‘Only a few years, surely?’ Feigning casualness, he rested a hand on her other knee. ‘Many a girl of my age would be thrilled to have a body like yours. Especially these legs.’ More daring now, his hand glided upwards. Eleanor knew that her labia must be unfurling, squashed against her panties. She hardly dared breathe. Her throat felt so tight she couldn’t respond.

His hand had reached her thigh and stroked her suspenders. Eleanor shivered. Was her groin that wet? She licked her lips.

Hal’s fingers probed at the edge of her panties, eased them aside and brushed against the inside of her pursed labia. Eleanor let go of her knee and allowed herself to fall back onto the table surface. Her legs remained dangling over the edge.

Emboldened, Hal stood and reached both hands up her thighs and tugged her panties down. ‘Beautiful,’ he whispered and bent forward to kiss her knees. Without pause, his cheeks slid upwards between her legs, coaxing them apart. He licked her thighs just above the stocking tops. Eleanor sensed him inhaling the spicy fragrance of her secretions. She trembled, her mouth dry. The tautness in her crotch was painful but heady. Hal’s fingers delicately caressed her now-gaping labia.

She fought not to respond too quickly but her hormones betrayed her. She knew without looking that her swollen lips were coiling and uncoiling. She could hear him breathing in the musky scent of her cunt juices as if he’d just discovered a rich, intoxicating elixir.

‘May I?’ he asked, unnecessarily.

She understood, nodded vigorously.

Hal brought his mouth onto her exposed cleft and kissed it reverently. The pulse in Eleanor’s quim grew more persistent. It felt as if the whole of her pussy was yawning.

When he plastered his lips against her labia, she gritted her teeth to prevent herself crying out. She must remain in control. She would. She was determined to have a fuck she’d never forget.

And so would Hal!

His tongue languorously caressed her slit, then he wiggled his thumb into her receptive vaginal passage. Eleanor gasped at the combined onslaught. She had never felt so randy. All the pent-up frustration of the past weeks raged within her.

She spread her legs as wide as she could to give Hal the greatest possible access. There was no going back now. No regrets. No second thoughts. She arched her back, pressing her clit against his thumb, willing it to push deeper … deeper …

The orgasm, when it came, deprived her of all inhibitions. She thrashed around unheeding. Electricity raced through her nerve-endings, up and out from the terminal in her clitoris.

But Hal hadn’t finished. His middle finger, slick with her juices, slid between her buttocks until it reached the puckered orifice at the back. The digit probed, edged forward, penetrated. It curled upwards just as his thumb curled downwards seeking to complete a circle inside her.

Skilful a lover as Roland was, he had never attempted this. She wanted to repel Hal’s manoeuvre, tell him he was invading forbidden territory, but irresistible lust took over. The thumb and forefinger slid in and out of their respective passageways to a regular rhythm. Eleanor rotated her hips in response until her second climax exploded without warning.

The rasp of a zip brought her back to full awareness. Abruptly conscious of the painfully hard surface against her back she struggled to sit up.

Hal was holding his dilated organ in readiness. ‘Not yet,’ she ordered. She was going to reciprocate in spades. It was she who would call the shots. She grimaced. This was the second time she’d verbalised like a second-rate gangster movie.

She slipped off the table, crossed the room and pulled cushions from the armchairs. She arranged these carefully like a mattress on the table top, then reached forward and ripped Hal’s trousers and underpants to the floor.

‘Now, lie down on the table yourself.’ She was in full throttle now and relished every moment. As Hal climbed onto the table, she unzipped her skirt and unbuttoned her blouse.

Hal lay back, his engorged erection hovering at a 45-degree angle. Eyes ablaze, Eleanor ran her nails across the top of his hard-on and down his thigh. The penis twitched at her touch. She repeated the manoeuvre but then stroked his cock delicately between the pads of her thumb and middle finger. Hal’s jaw was slack. She noticed that he was not looking at her dextrous fingers but at her body, his eyes riveted to her nipples which shimmered above the top of her bra.

Eleanor bent over his rigid prick. Her hair skimmed across the knob. She rubbed her cheek against it. Next, she lifted his testicles and curled her tongue beneath them. His body spasmed. ‘Oh, so you like this,’ she murmured, enjoying her domination of him, then licked again up and around the swollen sac. An animal noise, somewhere between a groan and a howl, ripped from Hal’s throat. Squeezing the base of his dick hard so he wouldn’t come too soon, Eleanor opened her mouth as wide as she could and engulfed his testicles covering them with spittle.

Her pussy was on fire. Frotting it with her forefinger, she pulled herself onto the table to kneel above him. Legs spread wide, she kneaded his cock against her slit, then lowered herself onto it. A moment later, she raised her cunt a few inches then slammed her crotch against his. All the while, she continued to rub her clitoris. Taking the hint, Hal brushed her hand aside and rotated his thumb against the little mound of flesh.

They came at the same moment in a frenzy. Sobbing in ecstasy, Eleanor collapsed onto Hal’s heaving chest. She was drained.

They lay together for some time, her head cradled in his arm. ‘I wonder …’ he ventured.

‘Mmm?’

‘I’ve always fantasised about doing it –’ he hesitated ‘– doggie fashion.’

Eleanor giggled and kissed his shoulder. ‘And you want me to be your guinea pig. Very well, then.’

She jerked a couple of the cushions from beneath Hal’s buttocks and legs, then shuffled backwards to the table edge where she knelt on one cushion and dropped her head and arms forwards to rest on the other. In this position, she arched her back, raising her rump to offer the fullest exposure of her quim, which still leaked Hal’s come.

‘Now, go for it!’ she chuckled. Hal jumped off the table and almost ran round it to stand behind her. Eleanor tried to imagine the vista presented to his eyes. He penetrated her vigorously with a loud squelch. She heard a sigh of gratification. Good, she thought, he’s earned it.

Yes, she’d done it on all fours with Roland but always felt used afterwards. He might as well have employed a rubber doll with an artificial vagina. This time, although it didn’t blow her mind, the experience proved wonderfully satisfying. Hal was fucking her, not only with her consent but with her active encouragement.

As they dressed afterwards, Hal frowned and asked her, ‘What am I going to report to Mr Collins?’

‘Who?’

‘Mr Collins, your partner.’

She stared at him, perplexed. ‘But Collins is not my partner’s name.’

He looked at her, bemused. ‘Maybe he gave a false name. But he described you perfectly. Tall, lovely legs, reddish hair, mid-thirties …’

Flattered, Eleanor decided not to confess to him that she was at least ten years older than that.

‘And … er … he even gave me the address of the advertising agency here, where you work.’

‘Advertising agency?’

‘Look!’ Hal groped for his trousers and fumbled a piece of crumpled paper from the back pocket. He handed it to her.

She gazed at it and enlightenment seeped in. ‘You idiot,’ she smiled, not unkindly. ‘The advertising agency is number 53, about nine buildings away. We’re number 35, a film production company.’

Hal goggled around the room, noticing for the first time the framed signed photographs of well-known actors and actresses mounted on the walls. At the same time, Eleanor reached a decision.

It was irrelevant whether Roland had suspected her or the anonymous Mr Collins had suspected his wife of infidelity. What Eleanor had discovered was that she couldn’t do without sex. And buckets of it. And she certainly wasn’t going to get it from Roland. It was time to dump him, find a place of her own and then … Bingo!

‘Oh, God!’ Hal moaned. ‘What are we going to do?’

Eleanor threw her panties into a corner and sauntered over to him. She grasped his organ, which immediately began to judder.

‘I’m sure we can think of something,’ she murmured.