Standalone Stories featuring Belle

Author's Note: My submission to Literotica's Nude Day Contest. Thanks toActingupfor his help proofing the prologue.

***

On dating apps, I list three bullet points under my profile pic, one of which is sadly a lie.

Kimmie, 25• Short Queen. 👸• Photographer. 📷• Hates dating. 🙅‍♀️

To say I'm a photographer would be bending the truth. To most of the world, my professional photography is despicable, abhorrent, a total invasion of privacy. I get it. Nobody likes the paparazzi. There's nothing honorable about tracking public figures, snapping photos of them, then selling the scoop to the media (or shadowy figures on the internet).

Ethics aside, pap work excites me because it blends my love for photography with a perverse craving for "the moment." I love the adrenaline rush of when, after hours of waiting, my mark finally steps into frame and it's go-time for me to act fast and decisively. Like a sniper, it's either I hit the mark or I miss; either I get the perfect shot or I don't.

Snapping pics as a pap, exhilarating as it can be, is merely target practice. My end goal is to be a legit photographer, the type who's commissioned to cover important world events for a reputable outlet. If I'm lucky, I'll produce an iconic photo that endures for centuries, living on through textbooks and documentaries, galleries and street art, being that lasting visual whenever you think of said event.

First, I needed to figure out how to escape paparazzi purgatory. The mystery of how to break through professionally was as frustrating as my love life. I was on the apps, but I really did hate dating. In my experience, the nice guys wanted out once when I told them I was a pap; the bad boys ghosted me after I gave up the goods. Whatever. Romance could take a backseat while I focused on my career goals.

I'd been steadily building my photo portfolio in a three-ring binder, ready to show off myrealphotog skills to anyone influential who'd listen. I just needed one person to believe in my potential, grant me a legitimate opportunity to prove myself.

The Mark

The Mark

This afternoon, I patiently camped out in a vacant unit of a residential tower, 30 floors high, a comfortable distance from my mark across the street. With a fresh memory card loaded, I had my camera's telephoto lens pointed through a window, aimed at his penthouse suite.

Who was I looking to capture in my crosshairs? He was a popular singer whose music I knew jack shit about. The only tune that mattered to me though was the money that people were willing to shell out for this guy's candids.

I heard a door shut behind me. That must've been my egghead assistant, Timmy, back with food to keep us fueled.

"What'd I miss, Boss?" Timmy asked me.

"Nada. No movement in the singer's penthouse," I replied.

"I don't think Enzo's home, Kimmie. He's on tour."

I jerked my head his way. "What'd you say?"

"He's on his nationwide tou—"

"Heard you the first time!" I said, interrupting him. "Why are you telling me this now?!"

"Sorry, Boss! I had the dates mixed up. But I just saw an ad for Enzo's tour, when I was out getting us food. Here, got you your favorite sandwich."

I swiped the turkey swiss from his hand. "Dammit, Timmy! You've got us staking out here for nothing then!"

"Not a total waste," he said, flashing me a smile. "We get to hang out."

"That doesn't get me paid," I said. "Which means you don't get your cut, genius!"

"Right, of course. Sorry, Boss!" Timmy helplessly shrugged his shoulders.

I let out a heavy sigh, trying to recall why I'd even hired this egghead. Some days, runny yolk was the only thing between his ears. Good thing I was only paying him peanuts.

"This space is pretty bougie," Timmy said. He scanned the pre-furnished decor of the vacant unit we were holed up in. "How'd you get access to this spot?"

"I used to date the building manager," I replied passive-aggressively.

"So you're not seeing him anymore then?" Timmy asked.

"No. He didn't like that I was a pap."

"Seriously?" he said."That'sthe reason?"

"Ugh, stop prying, egghead. You're not my bestie at brunch." I returned my focus to my camera's viewfinder, hoping our mark would magically appear at his window, proving my assistant wrong after all.

"Kimmie, wanna get dinner later? My treat. A sorry for the Enzo error."

"I see something, be quiet!" I said.

"Is it Enzo?" he asked.

"No, it's a woman. Blonde. A few floors below the singer's penthouse. She's on her balcony... and... and she's nude..."

The Blonde

The Blonde

For several minutes, Timmy and I spied on this mysterious blonde across the street, me through my camera's viewfinder, him using his binoculars.

We were hypnotized, wondering what kind of person would be brave enough to sunbathe nude on their balcony. Whoever this woman was, she was an eye magnet, clearly living her best exhibitionist life. And why not? Blondie boasted a body to be proud of, the type to inspire a generation of crusted socks, landfills of balled tissues.

"Those breasts could cure erectile dysfunction," I said. "And not a speck of hair on her downstairs. Impeccable laser work."

"Man, she looks so familiar, but I can't quite put my finger on it," Timmy said. "Do you think other people are watching her right now?"

"Other than us?" I scanned around with my camera's zoom. "I don't see anyone close by. Her unit's pretty high up. We're lucky we're eye-level."

"I wonder if she's celebrating National Nude Day."

"What?" I said. "No chance that's a real thing."

"It is, Boss. My grandma celebrates it," he said sincerely.

"Ew, gross!" I laughed. "Keep that to yourself, egghead."

"So what do you think Blondie does for a living?" he asked.

"With that body? She's a model, at the very least." I began snapping photos.

"You must think she's famous if you're taking pics."

"Well, if the singer's not home, we might as well make the most of our stakeout. Someone on the dark web might buy naked pics of Blondie."

"Shoot, maybeI'llbuy them off you," Timmy said, and I swiftly scowled his way.

"What?" he said, surprised by my reaction. "She's hot."

"So Blondie's your type, huh?" I scoffed. "God, could you be any more predictable?"

"I mean, if you're really asking, Blondie's more like a Greek goddess. Personally, I prefer someone more girl-next-door... Someone cool like you, Kimmie."

I snorted. "Wipe the brown off your nose. If this is you sniffing for a raise, you can forget about it. I'd sooner dock your pay, especially after your Enzo screw-up today."

"Aw, c'mon, Boss," he said. "I can't bethatbad. I have my moments of brilliance."

"Spare a 'brilliant moment' to focus your binoculars," I said, eyes back in my viewfinder. "Blondie's on the move. She's leaving her balcony, going back inside her unit."

The mystery woman re-entered her living room. Luckily for us, the tall balcony panels she'd closed behind her were clear glass, which gifted us a clean view into her entire space. Timmy, spying from his own window, had a slightly different vantage point than me.

"Can you see inside her unit too?" I asked.

"Yeah, she's got a nice pad," he said. "Modern luxury. Love her furnishing choices. Great design eye."

"You're ridiculous," I said, muffling my grin. "Look, Blondie's thrown on a robe to cover up. And now she's walking toward her front door. Someone's there, but my angle's tight. What do you see?"

"It's a guy in a suit," Timmy said. "He's kissed her on the lips. Boyfriend, I'm guessing? And hold on, seems Boyfriend's also brought a buddy with him. Both men are walking into her unit. You see them now, Boss?"

"Yep, got eyes on 'em. This Buddy guysure isfriendly. He just hugged Blondie, and not just any hug! Grabbed handfuls of her ass. She didn't seem to mind it. Weirdly, her 'boyfriend' witnessed the ass-grabbing. Didn't seem to mind it either..."

"What do you think's going on here, Kimmie?"

"No clue yet, but let's keep watching," I said. "This day's finally gotten interesting..."

The Boyfriend

The Boyfriend

Timmy and I continued observing the unit across the street, curious exactly who these two men were to Blondie.

The first guy was average height, dressed in a tailored business suit. His buddy, on the other hand, was in plain clothes, a tad taller, wearing a tight t-shirt that proved he didn't skip chest days at the gym.

"Boss," Timmy said, "so we're saying Boyfriend's the one in the suit, the one that kissed her? How do we know Buddy's not her boyfriend?"

"We don't," I replied. "But Buddy's got a tan on his ring finger. Either he's recently divorced or he's taken it off today."

"Maybe Blondie took hers off too?" he asked.

"Nope. No tan. Neither for Boyfriend. And just look at their body language: Blondie and Boyfriend are all lovey-dovey, arms around each other. It's obvious they're the ones together."

"Who's Buddy then?" Timmy asked. "And how'd he get ass-grabbing privileges?"

"Great question," I said. "You're starting to ask better ones, egghead. Keep sniffing the trail."

We watched as Blondie kindly welcomed Buddy to sit on her couch. She brought him a beer bottle from her fridge. Gave him the remote control to her TV.

"Hmm," I said, "seems she's telling Buddy to relax, make himself at home. And look, now she's taken hold of Boyfriend's hand, leading him to her bedroom. Blondie's got lust in her eyes, seduction in her strut. That can only mean one thing..."

I slowly swiveled my camera toward Blondie's bedroom. Fortunately for us, the view into it was unobstructed, with the drapes inside her windowed wall bunched up in the corner.

"Yup, they're kissing alright," Timmy said. "Blondie's gripping Boyfriend's bulge. He's squeezing her butt, both hands. Are you snapping photos, Boss?"

"Of course I am," I replied. "And screw photos, I'm gonna get video! Dark web pervs love a good amateur sex tape." I pressed record on my camera.

Just when it looked like we'd struck gold, Boyfriend took hold of the window drapes. We watched in anguish as the suited man slid them across the transparent facade.

I disappointedly turned to Timmy. "Shit..."

"Boss, quick, swing back toward the living room! You won't believe what Buddy's doing!"

I panned my camera to the other man, and my eyebrows nearly leapt off my forehead. Buddy had his zipper undone, his cock out, his right hand firmly jerking himself. He was pressed up against her bedroom door, ear against the wood, listening (seemingly) to the sounds of sex on the other side.

"Buddy's really getting off on their business!" Timmy said.

I was at a loss for words, unsure of what to make of matters.

Minutes went by and Buddy continued masturbating, his face growing more enamored with every rigorous stroke. Interestingly, Buddy then picked up his half-empty beer bottle, still jerking himself. The needy look on his face spelled an oncoming eruption.

"Boss, I'm confused. Buddy's holding his beer but not drinking it."

I smirked to myself, sensing Buddy's intent. "He's gonna avoid a mess, watch."

As I'd expected, Buddy aimed his tip down the barrel of the bottle. Splash after splash coated the inside of the glass, dripping down to mix liquids, flavoring his lager with a new salty tang.

"Jesus!" Timmy said.

We watched Buddy zip himself up and return to the couch. He placed his beer on the coffee table, before settling into a cushy slouch, head resting along the back edge.

Timmy and I took a minute to collect ourselves. Removed our eyes from our spyglasses to gauge each other's reaction.

"Wow, um...Thatjust happened," Timmy said. "So Boss, you, uh... recorded all that?"

I nodded in silence.

"Do you think it'll sell for something?" he asked.

"Doubt it," I said. "Who wants a vid of a random guy jacking off?"

"What can we do then?"

"Nothing for our bank accounts, sadly," I said. "But this trio's got me asking so many questions. Let's keep watching, Timmy. I want some answers."

***

Timmy and I plugged back into the scene across the street, intrigued by the myriad of interactions yet to play out between Buddy, Blondie, and Boyfriend.

When her bedroom door eventually opened, the affectionate couple strolled out looking relaxed and satisfied. Boyfriend was in his suit, shirt untucked, his tie loose and sloppy. More shockingly, Blondie was nude, her cheeks flushed pink, her long hair tousled.

"Why the hell is she naked?" Timmy asked. "Buddy's up from the couch, drooling like a dog over her body."

"Boyfriend doesn't seem to mind Buddy's gaze, just like the ass-grabbing earlier. He must enjoy showing her off. She probably loves that he loves it."

"Buddy's greeting Boyfriend now. Both men are smiling. What's going on, Boss?"

"The men just gave each other a special handshake," I replied. "I'm thinking they might be more than just buds. Good friends, likely. Maybe even best ones."

"Shoot, you think so?" Timmy asked.

"Wait, check out what Blondie's doing now," I said. "She's grabbed the beer off the coffee table. But Buddy's stopping her from drinking it—he's doing a masturbation gesture, admitting to them that he sullied it."

"Blondie and Boyfriend are laughing about it. But she's still holding the bottle, staring at it, swishing it around. She's saying something to the guys. Oh no, Boss, she wouldn't dothat, would she?"

"She would," I said knowingly. "Grin on her face says as much. Blondie's gonna quench her thirst..."

As if in slow motion, we watched Blondie bring the bottle to her lips, tilting her chin up to gulp down Buddy's milky booze, all without batting an eyelash.

"Sheesh!" Timmy said. "Blondie's not a shy one! And look at her boyfriend, he's dying of laughter! The men are basically bowing to her! Boss, this is some wild stuff, huh!"

I had no response for Timmy. Frankly, I didn't know what to make of the dynamics at play across the street. I was captivated, in the same way those dumb reality dating shows manage to hook me to my couch, for way too many hours.

More interestingly, the attention aimed Blondie's way was sparking an irrational jealousy within me. She seemingly had not one, but two men at her feet, worshipping her like a queen. Love or lust, it didn't matter the flavor. I was envious, thinking about my own love life... no flavors of my own to sample.

***

Timmy and I continued observing the trio, simply lingering in her living room now. At one point, Blondie pointed up at her ceiling. The men nodded their heads, with Boyfriend gesturing at Buddy for some reason. If only I had a damn microphone in their unit.

Eventually, Boyfriend pulled out a tiny booklet from his suit pocket. Casually flashed it for the others. It looked like a passport. Blondie reacted by hugging Boyfriend tightly. Kissed him passionately on the lips.

Both men then departed the unit.

Timmy and I unglued ourselves from our spyglasses once more.

"Well, that's that," he said. "Closing thoughts, Boss?"

"I think I've put together the pieces," I said, like I'd solved a double homicide case. "Buddy must be driving his friend—Blondie's boyfriend—to the airport. Boyfriend's clearly got a work trip, hence his attire, the passport. But the two men made a pitstop at Blondie's unit, so that Boyfriend could have a farewell fuck with his girlfriend."

"But Boss, Buddy seems pretty friendly with Blondie. He grabbed her ass. Masturbated to her having sex. She even knowingly drank his spermy lager. Do you think there's more there between Buddy and Blondie?"

"Maybe. Who knows?" I replied. "Buddy could be one part of their throuple. Or maybe it's some kind of swinger situation. It's just throwing me off since Blondie and Boyfriend aren't married, which, usually is the case with these arrangements."

"All that's over my head," Timmy said, eyes back in his binoculars. "Anyway, looks like Blondie's retired to her couch to lie down. She's closed her eyes. Early evening nap time, it seems. Nude edition."

"Timmy, get your laptop out, try and find out who she is."

"What're you thinking, Boss?"

"There might be more to Blondie than we know. Maybe sheisfamous. I got video of her drinking that jizzy beer in the nude. This footage might be worth something after all..."

The Buddy

The Buddy

The sun had set, and Timmy and I remained tucked inside our stakeout spot. While a naked Blondie enjoyed her beauty nap, Timmy was hard at work on his research assignment, while I spent time reviewing footage.

"Okay, check this out, Boss," he said, staring at his laptop. "I knew she looked familiar. I've seen Blondie on a tall billboard ad off the downtown freeway. She's a model. Mid-twenties. Does swimsuits, lingerie, and general women's apparel."

"Name?" I asked.

"Belle Adelson."

"Belle the Blondie, eh? What about Boyfriend?" I asked.

"No matches yet on that front," he replied. "Neither for Buddy."

"No worries. Nice work, Timmy. Keep it up."

"Thanks Boss!" he said. "That means a lot. You're awesome too, by the way. The way you assessed their whole situation, beat by beat, basically reading lips, their body language. You never fail to amaze me, Kimmie. One of one."

I lingered on Timmy with furrowed brows, noting the egghead's compliments weren't sarcastic. I shook off his cute dimples and distracted myself by attaching my camera to my tripod, lens still pointed at Blondie's unit.

I buried a bashful eye in my viewfinder. "Timmy, can you get my case from my backpack? I'm gonna test out other lenses."

Seconds passed, and Timmy still hadn't handed me what I'd asked for. I returned my attention his way and was surprised to see him focused on the contents of a certain binder of mine: my photo portfolio.

"Boss, these photos..." He flipped from one plastic-sleeved page to another. "Are these non-pap photos you've taken?"

"Um, yeah," I said meekly. "Why?"

"They're incredible, Kimmie! The shadows, the lighting. The compositions are so crisp, cinematic—the still lifes, the landscapes, architecture ones too, all of them."

"Um, thanks." I felt my cheeks and they'd surprisingly grown hot. I couldn't remember a time someone had complimented my real photography work before.

"These photos belong in an exhibit or something," he said. "Maybe I can reach out to local studios later, see if they'd feature your work. I know a few that'd be interested!"

Timmy's suggestion ignited a flame of excitement in me. The idea of my photography being on display had always been my long-term goal. To think it could come to fruition sooner than I'd expected was thrilling. Hmm, maybe my assistant wasn't such an egghead after all.

A flash across the street caught my attention. I realized it was from Blondie's unit. I rushed to turn on my camera, then scurried to cut the lights in our unit.

"Timmy, grab your binoculars!" I said. "Her unit. Tell me what you see."

"Blondie's lights are on, and she's up from her sofa nap, still nude. She's at her front door... opening the door... and... Boss, you won't believe who's back... It's Buddy. And he's alone."

I tuned my camera's zoom to catch Blondie welcoming Buddy back inside her apartment. The burly man randomly held a step stool in one hand, a tool bag in the other.

Unsurprisingly, Buddy wasn't timid when it came to ogling Blondie's naked body. The fact that neither party was treating her nudity as unusual told me this scenario may have been a regular occurrence for them...