Ruby and the Watcher - Sex Stories

Ruby and the Watcher

It was dawn by the time Ruby finished unpacking into her new studio. She celebrated with a shower and a cup of instant coffee, throwing open the huge warehouse doors and watching the sunrise light the cluster of fine old brick buildings around the courtyard. She could not believe her luck finding this place. She must have a guardian angel, somewhere, pulling strings and waving wands. Places like this, in the city, were gold-dust. Fairy dust. Her head buzzed with tiredness and her body ached. All she wanted now was some sleep. Maybe a good, deep shag from New-Boyfriend-Bill too. She could sneak into his flat – now he had given her a key – and ravish him while he was still in bed. He was so gorgeous asleep, and his huge member seemed permanently hard. She could sit on it and surprise him. Or even better, sit on his face, then… She sighed and stopped herself. What was it with exhaustion and horn? Opposite, on one of the upper floors, a doll-faced young woman watered the plants on a lush balcony. She looked like the star of an arty fashion shoot. Whimsical and beautiful with her flowery dress and great long legs and sleek dark hair. The woman noticed Ruby and waved. God her eyes were huge, and jet black. Ruby flushed, as if her earlier imaginings were still muckily visible all over her face. She didn’t wave back. Her phone, shoved in her front jeans pocket, vibrated and Ruby squealed in surprise. She fiddled it out and smirked at the screen. A message from Bill. > Gotta talk. ...

... Ruby thumbed back: > Yes! I need a good tongue-lashing. There was enough delay for Ruby to re-read her text and feel foolish. In fact she was washing up her cup before his reply came. > Sorry Babe. Som 1 else. Old gf. Gonna need key back. Ruby slumped, jaw gaping. Bastard. “Fucker. Asshole. Dickhead!” She palmed a tear from her cheek. “Um. You okay?” The young woman peered down from her balcony. The last thing Ruby needed was the perfect sympathy of little miss perfect knickers. “Yep. Sorry. Shitty boyfriend,” she said, waving it away. The young woman crossed her arms. “Hmm I know,” she said, frowning. “I can help with that.” Ruby blinked. What a loon. “How, exactly?” “How do I know, or how can I help?” “Either?” The woman grinned. “I’m Fay,” she said, “Come on up. Top floor.” Fay’s apartment occupied the entire top floor of the old warehouse, double height and divided by a single, huge, white curtain. An achingly stylish jumble of brick, driftwood and polished concrete. She greeted Ruby like an old friend, hugging her and pressing a kiss to Ruby’s cheek with a, “Mwah!” Her body looked willowy but was shockingly firm. When Fay stepped out of their embrace, her shape remained impressed on Ruby’s front, the kiss chilling on her cheek. Fay beamed, bare feet crossed and rocking her hips to some inner music, her cheeks – for some reason – flushed pink. She toyed with a long, black remote. “You’re eyes are so blue,” she said, “and I love your red hair.” “I don’t mean to be rude.” Ruby ...