ONE To Watch Me (The ONE Series, Part 1, Book 1) Read online

  Walking around the dinette set, I see a recliner covered with a luxurious pillow top and towels, then spot another sliding door leading to the bedroom. In the center is a king-sized bed, positioned for a view of the ocean. The headboard is a mix of dark wood and lush, soft fabric; beige, brown, and teal patterns echo the colors of the beach and the ocean. There are at least fifteen throw pillows, all different shapes and sizes, sitting at the header. I sprint a few steps forward and jump onto the bed. I laugh to myself, happy as a kid. I love it!

  Finally, I make my way to the bathroom, and oh my, oh my! It’s huge! There is a Jacuzzi tub that could easily fit two, a stone-walled shower with multiple jets lining the walls, and two sinks with at least four feet of gorgeous marble counter space between them.

  Everything is covered in light beige stone with golden undertones. I can almost see my own reflection in every shining surface. This is simply amazing! I can't say I haven’t stayed in nice places before, but this place makes me feel something different. It’s probably the fact that I’m alone here. This is my own little fairy tale.

  I look into the mirror and see myself smiling; even my eyes have a new sparkle to them. I’m normally a composed person, with a polite smile that rarely touches my eyes. I look closer and see evidence of my recent lack of sleep, in the form of new under-eye circles. I look a little paler too. No wonder, I never had any dinner. Food and flying are a bad combination for me.

  I decide to unpack, take a quick shower, and head to bed. I finish everything in under an hour and climb the pillows to get under the covers. The bed feels like a cloud, and sleep takes me in minutes.

  Three

  The first rays of the rising morning sun brighten the room, and I peel open my eyes. It’s early—the sun is still climbing—but I’m brimming with energy. This is the first time in months I’ve woken up looking forward to the day. I feel energized, despite getting just five hours of sleep, at best.

  I decide to start the day, even though I could probably sleep till noon and no one would care. Getting out of bed, I take in my ocean view then head straight for the balcony. The horizon line looks stunning through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but outside, it’s simply breathtaking.

  The beach seems deserted and there aren’t many cars on the streets yet. I ignore the fact that I’m dressed only in a white, see-through camisole that barely reaches my thighs and step out onto the balcony. The salty ocean breeze gently caresses my bare skin, and I feel the sun’s warm rays kissing my arms, shoulders, and face. Long curls graze my cheeks, and I lift them up and away from my face and neck. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can hear the waves breaking against the sand, and I feel lightweight, almost ready to fly. This is heaven! I open my eyes and take it all in: the beach, the ocean, the breeze. I inhale deeply, and the briny scent of seaweed reaches my nostrils; the morning tide brought slick green clumps of it ashore.

  I look around. My condo is on the twentieth floor—not too high, by Miami high-rise standards, but high enough for a good view. On my right are the ocean and the beach, and on my left is Collins Avenue, the artery spanning the peninsula from South Beach all the way north, to Hollywood. In front of me is a tall building with amazing glass walls that serve as floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s so early, I don’t see a single person on the balconies. The city is still asleep.

  The wind blows a little harder and the hem of my camisole flies up and bares my butt. I instinctively grab it and pull down. I feel the pink creeping into my cheeks, but I remind myself there’s no reason to be shy. I’m all alone here. And then I decide on a bold move. In a single, swift motion, I raise the hem over my head and take off the cami. I’m a grown woman, after all, and I can tan topless if I want to… Even if I do feel a bit self-conscious about it. I would probably never dare to do this on an actual beach, but here, twenty stories high, in the privacy of my own balcony and with no one around, I try to leave my inhibitions behind. I lower down onto a chaise lounge covered in the softest pillows and cotton towels, and stretch myself out to tan my skin. Closing my eyes, I relax and let the sun caress my body. The breeze covers my skin in goosebumps and my nipples become hard. I feel aroused without even being touched. I try to remember the last time I had sex, but it only stirs up the painful memories.

  I try to think of something tranquil, like the seagulls flying above the water, or the palm trees lining the beach—whatever it takes to calm down and avoid touching myself. I feel my skin getting warm under the sun and realize I probably need some sunblock. I take the bottle of lotion from the cocktail table by my side and squirt some into my palm, rubbing my hands together to spread it. I lift my right leg in the air and begin at my ankle, going up to the knee and then back, making sure to cover the front and back, then repeating the same procedure on the left leg. Then I get a little more lotion and start working from my knees up to my lacy bikini. The trick is to stay on my legs and not wander off. I feel the lace getting wet from my arousal. I’m moving to my stomach now, and it’s also time to cover my breasts in their protective layer of sunblock. I squirt a good amount into my hand and start working circles around my hips and ribs, up to the swell of my chest. I am aching so badly at my core, it feels almost too dangerous to touch my nipples. I cup my breasts with my hands and lather lotion all around them, reaching to my collar bone and shoulders. I only have to finish my arms and whatever I can reach of my back, and I’m good to go. I wrap things up and relax back on the chaise.

  I can’t concentrate on anything, so I decide to focus on my breathing. I start thinking of the yoga classes I used to take in Chicago and inhale deep breaths in and out. I lose my senses of time and place, and feel like I’m floating in the ocean breeze. At some point, I realize the real world around me is waking up, as cars trickle onto the streets, and the hum of life below grows louder.

  I see her.

  I check the watch on my wrist automatically. It’s early. She stands by the rail, seemingly enjoying herself.

  I aim my optics, just for kicks. She surely deserves a closer look.

  Just as I set the lens in place, she moves. The next moment, my eyes catch her. She is naked, sans the scrap of lace covering her pussy.

  I watch her freely, knowing I am invisible.

  This is an unanticipated turn of events. I laugh at my raging hard-on and the unexpected cause of it.

  I don’t need this distraction now. I need to focus.

  Standing up, I look around. The scenery is about the same as it was, except there are more people milling about on the ground now. The balconies of the building across from mine are empty. Somehow, I have the nagging feeling I'm being watched. It’s probably my self-consciousness talking, making me feel guilty about the topless tanning. I ignore the little voice in my head and decide it’s time to finish up my nude yoga/sunbathing session. I’m calmer now, but a good run along the beach would definitely finish clearing my mind. Inside, I change into a sporty bikini. I’m not a big girl, but I do have some curves to show. My breasts are not small by any means, and I usually pick sports bras with good support. I hate to have them jiggling all around when I run. I add a long, white linen shirt on top and button it in the middle. Then I freshen up in the bathroom, apply more sunblock to my face, and grab the beach bag, my sunglasses, keys, and a towel. I go out onto the balcony one more time and take a look at the beach below. It’s still pretty deserted, save for the occasional runner here and there.

  I decide to go running barefoot along the water. With the beach service still closed at this early hour, I leave my things behind on the sand. The waves bring the warm water to my feet and I start stretching. I bend down and hug my ankles, one at a time, then rise to my tip-toes and stretch my arms up and out. A few minutes later, I’m ready to run. I choose to go right, heading south from my building. The sun is on my left, and I’m trying to keep looking at the ocean without being blinded. I start slowly, but soon enough, I’m running at full speed, bringing my knees and hips forward with each step.


  I run freely, remembering what it felt like to be a teenager. Even then, I found peace in running. I would run a few miles at a time, just to clear my mind. Years later, it still works. I feel a pleasant burning in my muscles and keep going forward.

  I pass a newly restored fishing pier. The old one was destroyed by a hurricane a few years back. I continue running, making a mental note to come check out the renovations. There’s also a bar there now, one that should offer a breathtaking view of the skyline.

  Once I reach the last tall building, I turn around and head back. I notice a guy running past me farther down south. He is tall and well-built, moderately tan. He’s wearing a pair of wrap-around sunglasses, but he passes by too quickly for me to get a good look at his face. I watch his figure accelerating away from me, then switch my attention back to running. Interesting, I hadn’t noticed him, although he must have been right behind me.

  The run back is harder than I expected. The sun climbs, and the air grows hot and humid. I run slower and really push myself the last quarter mile, making a mental note to pace myself better next time.

  Completely exhausted, I wave the beach service guy to get me a chair and umbrella while I jump into the water. The waves hit my boiling body with an icy grip. I must have overheated. Running by the water, my feet got accustomed to its temperature, while my body stayed hot. The contrast of the cold water against my hot skin makes my chest tighten from the lack of oxygen. I swim a few strokes and try to normalize my breathing. I do not risk going in deep, and instead stay in the shallow spot where I can safely stand above the waves. I run my palms over my face, washing away the heat and sweat. Moments later, I’m out of the water and dragging back to my now-set-up chair and umbrella. I drop down and completely relax every muscle in my body. Closing my eyes, I just lie there and breathe. Running and swimming left me exhausted, and I drift away.

  I see her.

  She looks edible in her bikini, running along the shore.

  Hot and sweaty, just like I’d like to make her.

  She lays down, all on display, as if inviting me for a view.

  Focus, man, focus.

  Four

  I wake suddenly with the feeling I’m being watched. A quick look around leaves me feeling dizzy, yet reveals no possible stalker. People around me seem completely oblivious to my existence. As I lie back down, I wonder why I’d suddenly felt eyes on me. My head is still spinning, while my body feels hot. Falling asleep in the shade, I managed to wake up in the sun. The sun must have moved. I touch my sensitive skin and realize I’ve probably burned. Should have put on sunblock before passing out.

  Now seems like a good time to call it a day and go back into the comfort of the air conditioner, maybe take a cool bath. As I gather my things, the beach service guy who set me up in the morning comes by. Realizing I never thanked him for the chairs, I dig through my bag in search of a few bucks.

  "Thank you for chairs and towels. I was too exhausted after my run and completely passed out.”

  His smile is genuinely friendly. “Not a problem, miss. It’s my pleasure.”

  I smile back. This guy seems really nice, and he’s rather cute. Too young though. I bet young girls ask him for help applying sunblock all the time. Oh, what am I thinking? I’ve got to turn down the vacation mode.

  “I'll be back tomorrow morning."

  He smiles again. "I'll take care of you. Just let me know if you need anything. How long are you staying with us, miss?" Is it me, or did he smile wider at the word anything? Oh god, I’ve definitely got to stop. He is seriously young.

  "I should be here for three weeks."

  "Great, I'll see you tomorrow then. I'm Adrian by the way." He extends his arm and I shake it automatically in a greeting.

  "Nice to meet you, Adrian. I'm Emmeline."

  "Great! Enjoy your stay."

  “See you tomorrow! And thanks again!”

  As I leave, I see Adrian making his way to another umbrella, greeting a leggy brunette. His smile is as genuine as before. I wonder if he truly enjoys his job, being surrounded by new people all the time. Or maybe it’s the ease of vacation that keeps these ladies relaxed and flirty. Either way, I almost envy him for doing something he enjoys so much every day.

  As soon as I step foot inside the building, the cold, air-conditioned air attacks me. My skin is covered in goosebumps, and the wait for the elevator seems like an eternity. My nipples get tight and peak through the swimsuit, leaving me feeling self-conscious. I cross my arms over my chest, only to expose my cleavage instead. A few people are gathered around, waiting for the elevator, exchanging looks. Finally, the elevator makes it down to the beach level and I step inside. A moment later, I’m exiting on the twentieth floor. The hallway here is as frigid as it is downstairs, and I make a mental note to buy myself a fluffy cotton beach wrap, preferably one with a hood.

  Inside, my condo is as freezing as the rest of the building. I open the balcony door to let in the warm air and get into the shower. The water is nice and hot and I enjoy the warmth, only to be immediately assaulted with a burning feeling and chills over my body. This is weird! Then it dawns on me: I burned, so I'm hot and cold all at once. And on the first day of my vacation—lucky me. Now I’ll have to avoid the sun for a few days. I guess Adrian won’t get a chance to take care of me tomorrow after all.

  I get dressed and close the balcony doors. The rooms are warm and humid. I step out to the balcony and admire the view. The beach is filled with people in the water and on the sand. What was a deserted, serene place just hours ago is bursting with activity now. Collins Ave is filled with traffic. The plazas across the street are overflowing with cars and people. I decide to take a walk and get some lunch in one of the cafes.

  The lobby is, not surprisingly, frigid as well, while the outside is hotter than the balcony. It’s too hot for a walk, so I take my car and just drive around.

  Several cute restaurants and cafes with inviting tables are scattered along the plaza. My lunch is a freshly squeezed juice and a salad. It’s hard to eat when it's so hot.

  Looking around, I find a yoga place and decide to try it out tomorrow. Being a big fan, I usually try to go at least a few nights each week in Chicago. Finding one so close by here is super exciting.

  The next destination is a shopping mall. My vacation wardrobe needs to be updated and expanded. As much as I enjoy shopping, I’m usually rushing through it. Today's objective is to take time and enjoy. And so I do. I choose the Bal Harbour Shops, a place conveniently close by, and with outdoor terraces, rather than freezing indoor hallways. I've been there a few times on my previous stays in Miami and liked it a lot. It’s on the upper end, but totally worth the trip. Besides the traditional upscale brands, it houses some rare ones as well. I walk around window shopping first. My organizational skills kick in even while I shop. Once I see the boutiques I'm interested in, I start going in.

  I find one, full of linen tops and dresses. Several things, coincidentally all white, fit very well and end up in the shopping bag. Then, I stop by a couple more places and opt for a selection of white and off-white pieces. It feels liberating to get out of the business suit and into free-flowing, white, summer things.

  On my way out I spot the La Perla boutique, turn the corner, and walk in. The amount of lace and sexuality overwhelms me. This place is heaven on Earth. I am immediately greeted by a middle-aged woman who reminds me of my French tutor. I don't even know why I'm here. I have plenty of underwear, and I’m all alone, with no romantic plans. Yet, I'm here and I want new lingerie. It will be a symbol of a fresh start, a new me. I tell the sales representative that I want to replace my existing collection with a new one. Her reserved look is shaken for a second and her eyes light up with excitement. I figure she must be making a great deal in commissions here, but she also, somehow, looks genuinely happy. I wonder how often she gets ladies in here that are making a new start. She must see right through me. Being a professional salesperson, she stays on the subject at hand,
never veering into personal territory.

  We talk about styles while roaming around the floor exploring different models and colors. I point to the ones I like and she nods in agreement, as if memorizing my choices. When we’re done, I step into the dressing room and start trying on endless ensembles of bras and panties, bustier and garter belts, silk camisoles and robes. I love most of the pieces and soon enough, the stack grows to a considerable height. I can't even imagine how much it would cost. I’ve never spent so much on lingerie in my life. Sorting through the pile, I realize once again I love them all. Oh my god! Sexy does not begin to describe it. These garments are so sensual, I wish I had someone to appreciate them with.

  One hour and a capital X number of dollars later, I leave La Perla feeling ready to conquer the world in my new lingerie. I have done more shopping in one day than I have in months. I think there must be something to the cliché about women and shopping; it does put me in a better mood. My next stop is a cute cafe upstairs. I choose an out-of-the-way corner featuring a casual, antique-looking couch and a coffee table. Settling in with my bags, I take a look at the menu and notice some interesting offerings. I decide to go with an iced espresso drink infused with liqueur and a selection of macaroons in exotic flavors. Should be interesting.

  The minute I raise my eyes from the menu in search of the waiter he seems to materialize out of thin air. I smile, feeling a little startled, and place my order.

  I am not used to going out alone, so for lack of anything better to do I grab my smartphone and start checking email. Being a weekend, there are barely any new work-related emails. In minutes I'm out of reading material. Spotting a stack of newspapers and magazines laying conveniently on the side, I look through them and grab one.