Her First Delicate Piercing 3

John approaches her. His face is slightly flushed and his breathing is labored. She recognizes the telltale signs of lust on his face - the flaring nostrils, the dilated pupils within his startling green irises. She shoots a concerned glance at the window. They are all extremely exposed.

Billy plops himself onto a well-worn armchair. She reckons that is his favorite armchair, from the faded seat upon which he probably grinds his backside in every day. He has the look of curious languor on his intense features, as if he's about to witness something interesting.

"Take off your clothes, Jenny," John says.

He reaches out and pulls one of her hair strands.

"You mean right here?" she says, glancing at the darkening window again.

"No. Not here." He gestures at the window. "There."

"Y-you want me to strip naked . . . over there?" The thought is alarming. How many people are in their apartments with similar windows, peering out? How much can they see?

It occurs to her that as the sky darkens and night blankets the hemisphere, the apartment dwellers outside would be able to see more and more of whatever they are revealing in here.

"What part of 'there' didn't you understand?" he growls. "Do it, Jenny. Do it because you love me."

She loves him - that much is true. But now he's asking her to go on to a whole new level.

"The more you expose yourself to total strangers," he says, his voice hoarse, "the more you get desensitized to it."

Her feet are rooted to the spot, as is her tongue. She barely has enough time to figure anything out when he grabs her arm and shepherds her firmly to the window.

"Strip, Jenny."