I don’t make a habit of walking home alone when I work late — but sometimes it happens.

On those nights, I like to stroll along the streets and look in the windows of the small boutiques. As a window dresser for a few high-end department stores in the city, it makes sense for me to peek into some of the smaller shops for ideas and inspiration.

On this particular night, when I looked across the street into one window, there was movement inside. It was one of those places you could stop for a mani/pedi or a quick shampoo and blowout. I’d been there a few times — maybe six months ago. I’d since found a better salon closer to the loft where I work where the service is better.

The sign over the door — SASSY’S — was new, as were the ornate lanterns suspended from the ceiling. I crossed the street and was disappointed to see a CLOSED sign in the door. The place had undergone a complete renovation since my last visit. The faded walls, duct-taped vinyl chairs, and cracked flooring had been replaced with bright wall murals, upholstered banquettes, and mosaic floor tiles, giving the place a warm, Moroccan feel.

The movement inside turned out to be a man and a woman — maybe an employee and a customer. But as the man’s hand was sliding up beneath the woman’s short skirt, maybe a boyfriend and girlfriend. He herded her toward the back of the salon, dimming the lanterns to a soft glow with the turn of a wall switch along the way.

Curious, I moved closer, while trying to avoid being illuminated by the streetlight. I stood with my back flush against the building and waited a breath. The street was deserted and yet somehow I knew something was going to happen. I’d never thought of myself as a voyeur, but there I was, lingering in the shadows as I peeked through the front door. I remembered there being vertical blinds in the picture window and the door. They’d been replaced by old-fashioned roll-up shades with tassels and fringe, which neither of them had bothered to pull down.

The lighting in the rear of the shop was low, but bright enough for me to make out the guy as he kicked off his shoes and climbed into one of the pedicure seats. I watched the girl as she approached him. Instead of filling the tub with water, she stepped into it, perching her rear end on the edge. I caught just a glimpse of her cheeks before she sat, and either she was wearing just a thong or she was buck naked under her skirt.

She leaned between his legs and gave him a quick if not chaste kiss on the lips before unbuttoning his fly and releasing his stiff cock. She’s going to blow him. She’s going to fuckin’ blow him! I thought.

Placing one hand on his thigh and the other around his erection, she lowered her mouth over the tip. When her head began bobbing up and down, his head fell back against the seat. This was the trifecta of porn: I got to watch this gorgeous girl — and she was a stunner, with her shoulder-length hair, pixielike features, and full figure — give this guy with his roughneck look of tats and piercings a full-on blowjob. I would have happily screwed either one of them, but watching them — which I’d never thought I’d enjoy as much as I did at that moment — was the cherry on a supersize sundae.

She’d begun to suck faster since the guy had a grip on her soft curls. It looked like he’d taken over the pace as he helped move her head on his dick. I was no longer trying to keep my presence hidden and had moved right in front of the door so I was looking straight into the shop. My own breathing had quickened and my panties, which had grown damp from the walk and the sultry air, were now sopping wet with desire. I put myself in the guy’s place, so it was me sitting in the platform chair, getting my pussy sucked and laved by the girl.

Just before he came, the guy opened his eyes, turned his head, and looked right at me. I could have disappeared down the street and never walked down the block again. Or I could brazenly stand my ground and stay till the climax. Oh yeah, I stayed and stared right back at him as he held her head in place and spewed his seed into her mouth. Then I lost my nerve and left before either of them could confront me.

The following week I had to work late again. The first two nights I cabbed it home. On the third night, I found myself across the street from Sassy’s. The lights were on and the same girl from the week before was inside, blow-drying a customer’s hair.

What the hell? I thought. I could use a pedicure. I crossed the street and turned the door handle. It was locked, which made sense. It was late. I’d started to walk away when I heard, “I’m open.”

When I turned around, the door was open and the girl was smiling and waving at me to come back. I did and followed her into the shop.

“Let me just finish up here,” she said.

I plucked a magazine from the rack, took a seat, and began flipping the pages as she finished up with her customer. After the woman paid, the girl walked her out and relocked the door. Then she checked her phone and tapped in a couple of messages.

“Now, how can I help you? I’m not doing any more heads tonight, but if you want a quick manicure or pedicure, you’re in luck,” she said. “I’m Frieda.”

“Who’s Sassy?” I asked.

“Kind of my alter ego. I thought Sassy sounded better than Frieda.”

“Actually, I like Frieda. It’s not a name you hear every day. We have enough Briannas to last a lifetime,” I said.

“Ha! That’s my younger sister’s name! I lucked out, being named after a beloved but eccentric aunt.”

I told her my name. We were still chitchatting when I remembered I was there for a reason. “I’d like  a pedicure, if it’s not too late,” I said.

“Oh, sure, just pick out a color. You’re my last customer, so let me flip the closed sign around and turn down the front lights.” When she was done, she told me to follow her to the back. She had on an apron over a tank top and a scrap of material masquerading as a skirt. She wore open-toe cork wedges on her feet, and her toes were polished a sparkly purple, whereas her fingernails were neutral.

The low lights reminded me of the previous week, when I was on the outside looking in. Soft music played in the background and the woodsy smell of sandalwood permeated the air.

I kicked off my shoes and sat in the chair. I hadn’t planned on getting my toes done, so I had on a skirt. The fabric stretched, so it wouldn’t be difficult for her to work, but she was going to get a front-row view of my crotch. I wasn’t really expecting anything to happen — or was I?

“You’ve been here before,” she said. It wasn’t a question, and I suddenly felt a tingle run up my spine.

“Yes — before you took over the shop,” I said hesitantly. “It’s really nice — quite an improvement.”

She turned on the taps and water flowed into the tub. She sprinkled some kind of bath salts in the water and took one of my feet in her hands. She began to massage and stroke my instep.

“No, you were here last week. My boyfriend said he saw you standing outside.” Her hands had moved up my leg and she was now massaging my calf. She looked up and smiled and I knew that she knew. She knew why I came, even if I had been too stubborn to admit it to myself.

I took a deep breath. “Yes, that was me.”

“And he said you were watching us.” She placed my foot in the water and went after the other one, rubbing and stroking with a sensuousness that promised more than a foot massage. “Did you like what you saw? I wanted to meet you, but you left so quickly.”

“I’ve never done anything like that before and I guess I wasn’t sure how to act afterward — but, yes, I liked it.”

Frieda leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on my knee. Our gazes locked as her tongue flicked out to lick my skin. A shiver of desire rippled through me as she lowered my foot into the tub. She turned off the water, placed her hands on my thighs, and slowly pushed my skirt up as far as it would go. She pulled my hips toward the edge of the seat and spread my legs wide.

“You don’t really need a pedicure, do you?” she murmured. Then she lowered her head between my legs and I felt her hot breath on my crotch. Her tongue stabbed at me through my panties and I wanted her mouth against my skin. I wanted her to rip off my panties and eat my pussy till I screamed.

Frieda put her mouth on me and sucked me through the thin fabric. I squirmed and fidgeted and wanted to press her tight to my pussy, but she pulled back, giving me a sly grin, her pixielike features looking more impish by the second. She was actually waiting for me to answer her.

“No, I don’t need a pedicure,” I said with an edge to my voice, as my frustration tried to gain the upper hand.

“That’s good to hear,” she said. Then she began working my panties down, telling me to lift my hips so she could slide them off. They ended up in the tub and she left them there. She climbed in and sat on the edge just as she had with her boyfriend.

I knew what was coming next, but it still sent a shudder through me when her tongue licked across my clit. My pussy was twitching and I felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach as she teased and nipped my cooch with her lips. Fingers came into play as she rubbed and opened my petals for deeper access. She blew gently on me as her fingers slid easily inside. I was hot and wet as she thrust them in and out, in and out, twisting and turning them to give me the utmost pleasure. Her lips and tongue would make fleeting contact, then disappear again as her fingers danced over and inside my flesh. I ground my hips against the seat, wishing she’d take me in her mouth again and suck me hard.

“Oh, God,” I moaned. “Please — please — please.”

“Please what, Kristin?” she said.

“Please, Frieda — I need — shit!”

“Mmm?”

Her mouth was on me now and I could barely think, much less offer a coherent response.

“ — to come — make me come,” I begged.

And come I did. As soon as she sucked my clit into her mouth and found my sweet spot with the pads of her fingers, I saw stars. I humped her face and ground my pussy against her lips and rode that orgasm till I was completely wrung out. I fell back in the seat, gasping for air as Frieda kept licking my cunt.

I opened my eyes when I felt Frieda straddle my hips. Her lips tasted like pussy — mine — and I licked her lips and kissed her deep. Her hands slipped up under my blouse and pinched my nipples. They were already hard and sensitive, and her fondling them made them even more so. A sudden tremor racked me again from the inside out and I fell back with Frieda in my arms.

“I want to taste you,” I said against her neck. I licked the pulse point in her neck and felt my pussy throb again with need as she rubbed herself against me. Frieda wasn’t wearing any panties, and her pussy was as wet as mine. Then she climbed off my lap and stepped out of the tub, dripping water onto the floor.

“Come,” she said, and I followed. She led me over to a cushioned table that was probably used for waxing appointments. She lay back on the paper covering the table, and it crinkled and ripped as she pulled me on top of her. I was about to bury my face in her mound when she began maneuvering me around so we could eat each other out. As I settled in, I looked toward the front of the shop for the first time, and there was her boyfriend, watching us from outside.

“Is your boyfriend going to join us?” I asked.

“No — sometimes Trevor just likes to watch me enjoy myself. That’s why I texted him earlier. Do you mind?”

“I guess not — I never thought about it before,” I said. Was I a latent exhibitionist? That was something else I would have to explore. At that moment, though, all I wanted to do was get between Frieda’s sweet legs. Her scent called to me and I followed, leading with my tongue. I explored her with tongue and fingers, licking every part I could reach, teasing her inside and out as she did the same to me. We drove each other to the height of ecstasy, shredding the paper beneath us as we sucked and fucked each other till we were one quivering mass of flesh.

After my third orgasm of the night, all I could do was lie there while Frieda, little sex machine that she was, hopped off the table to let her boyfriend in. She introduced me to Trevor, which was … strange. He seemed perfectly at ease, telling me he enjoyed watching me with his girlfriend. Then the two of them started making out and I wasn’t sure what to do. My panties were still floating in the foot bath, and that’s where they were going to stay. I slipped on my sandals and picked up my bag.

“Uh — thanks, Frieda,” I said. She and Trevor came up for air long enough to ask me to stay, but I begged off. Frieda walked me to the door and kissed me before making me promise to come back the following week. She even promised to give me an actual pedicure — if I really wanted one.

“Maybe,” I said with a smile, but I knew I’d be back.