I helped set up the museum displays.

I was the assistant to the designer, and I often stayed behind to finish up when he took off for the night. The evening I gave in to my secret fantasy, there was only me and a single security guard in the gaping maw of the building. Personnel had been cut back due to budget restrictions, and I’d gotten to know the several guards who were occasionally assigned the night shift.

That night it was Caleb. Ex-military, large and broad, with a crew cut and an easy smile. I’d had a crush — a little more than a crush, maybe — for a few weeks. As I worked arranging some dry, weathered logs for a diorama, I felt a familiar swirling energy in my stomach. I’d only given in to this one particular fantasy a handful of times, but it was running through my mind that night.

We were alone. There were no cameras in this section, and I liked him.

I wanted him to see me.

I glanced at the clock. I had about twenty minutes before Caleb’s routine brought him into my neck of the museum. I put the finishing touches on some of the tall grass and figured the rest could wait. I stripped down to nothing, feeling the ghostly kiss of the forced air from the heating unit brush across my skin. My nipples grew hard and tingled.

I walked the display utterly nude. The glass was an invisible barrier between me and the rest of the world. I pretended it was my protection. That I was safe to do this. Safe to explore my desires.

The harsh lights warmed my bare skin. I didn’t have on a stitch of clothes, but I wasn’t cold. My anticipation and slight anxiety were probably helping with that, too.

I slid my hand down my belly, my sides, along my hips. Finally, I brushed it over my mound, allowing myself one tiny press of my fingertip to my clit. Pleasure leapt in my blood, and my breath whooshed out of me.

I still had time to kill. I had to wait. Or so I’d thought. I caught a glimpse of a shadow beyond the glare on the glass. The wide shoulders and the sure stance. Caleb.

I didn’t let myself think about anything, despite the fact that my hands were trembling. I draped myself along the length of the tree branches. They were pushed together to form a “V” and were, despite their condition, fairly stable. I positioned myself so that Caleb could see everything.

“I was lost in the vision in my head of this man coming in to the display."

Stroking my body slowly, I started at my nipples, pinching and tugging so that the wetness between my thighs increased. I wriggled to get the friction I craved, heard my own hitch of breath at the resultant wave of pleasure. I skated my fingers down my sides and brushed feathery fingertips over my mound. I parted my thighs, hoping he could see the glistening flesh I felt was surely there.

I was wet, terribly wet. The feel of his gaze on me acted as a third hand. I swore I could feel it sweeping along my skin. I stroked my wet fingertip across my clit, feeling small curls and blips of pleasure that wound magnificently together inside my cunt.

I pushed two fingers deep, grinding that sensitive nub against the palm of my hand. Fucking myself. Working my G-spot so that my body seemed flooded with heat and want.

I glanced his way for a moment. I saw the pale starfish of a single hand pressed to the glass. He’d moved closer to get a better view.

My skin pebbled with goosebumps to know he was there. I slid around a little more to make sure he could witness every plunge of my fingers into my pussy. I was drenched and needed more. I added a third finger, slamming my hips up to manipulate my clit.

I was panting for air, my free hand going to the other nipple to pinch and tug and tweak. My hips started to rock upward. I was lost in the vision in my head of this man coming in to the display. I pictured him fucking me on the old wood among the tall grass, under this false, brilliant sky.

When I looked up again, the other hand was pressed to the glass. I could see the phantom image of his face on the other side.

I pulled my fingers free and brushed them across my lips, tasting myself. Pushing him a little further. Teasing him. Wanting him to come in here and do to me the things I was doing to myself.

Putting both hands between my legs this time, I shoved my fingers back in my cunt and strummed my clit mercilessly. I wanted to come. No matter what happened, I needed to come with him standing there, my not-so-captive captive audience.

I thrust my hips up and drove my fingers deeper. Every entry of my fingers rubbed my G-spot, every revolution of my fingers on my clit brought me closer to climax. When I looked up again, I could see his face. Close to the glass, eyes wide.

The sight did me in. I pinched my clit, and then tugged it. I stopped for a second, feeling the absence of stimulation. I let my heart get itself under control, and then I went right back to it, the brief pause only serving to push me higher, faster.

I came with a cry, biting my lip hard. I tossed my head, my hair falling like a curtain across my face so that I lost sight of him, but I could feel him there.

I heard a noise at the far end of the display and looked up. Caleb stood there, eyes a little glazed.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, Caleb.” I sat up, pushing my hair out of my face.

“Need any help?” he asked, his jaw set tight with what could only be the urge to control himself.

I parted my legs, angled in his direction. I smiled. “I think I do. I think I could use an extra hand tonight.”

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