"Whew-out of breath!"

Grace addressed this remark to her black and gray tabby that had been waiting for her just inside the door.

"It was GREAT, Jazz! All 5 miles-I jogged it all-battling showers and high winds, but it was fun!"

She'd had her MP3 player and was rockin' out ... and reminiscing! The overture and first song from "Man of La Mancha" was on there reminding her of when she played in that production with Theater of the Stars in Atlanta back in the day. She was concertmistress that year (as close to being anybody's mistress as she was ever likely to get!)

The showers, rain slanting sometimes almost parallel to the ground, not heavy but really tiny drops that felt like sand hitting her face and the wind gusting with a roar every few seconds, had sort of left her totally alone with her thoughts. One of Grace's problems with doing her morning walks was that she tended to lose her attention on anything but the music and her innermost considerations. And there were always those things going on in her mind.

It had been a long time since she had felt the warm touch of a man; an outrageously long time. It wasn't that she didn't think about sex. In truth, it was almost always on her mind, even when she was sleeping apparently, if her dreams on recent nights could be any indication. And when Joy had gone away to school, she was left with so much free time that the erotic television screen in her head seemed to always feature whatever she most realized was missing in her life at the moment.

This, combined with the exhilaration of the music she had been listening to, had her musing about whether it was time for her to take that "toy" she'd ordered from a catalog on a whim into the shower with her. Usually the handheld shower massage was enough to do the trick, but today she wanted more...

The dark figure stood still and quiet just as the edge of the wooded area near her house as the well-endowed lady came jogging by. He had watched her day in and day out, wondering why she was always alone. Over several weeks, he'd gotten closer until he had seen her home. She had not been forthcoming about where she lived when they had chatted in the "real" world, but he had been successful in prying out of her the fact that she jogged daily, rain or shine. Then yesterday, while she was on her morning constitutional, he had slipped inside. The very first thing he noted was the sweet fragrance. That smell delivered to him a dozen confirmations. First, she lived without a man in the house. In fact, he was pretty sure she lived completely alone. No pet odors, except maybe a cat although there was no sign of one at the moment, no cooking odors other than coffee. She probably ate out a lot.

This was exactly the situation he needed for his hobby to work. He rummaged through drawers throughout the house and found things he knew would work when the time presented itself. He mentally recorded locations and left with a large margin of time before her expected return.

He hated it when people called her "Gracie". She was grace personified. Grace. That was something good given when punishment was expected, unlike mercy, which was sparing someone punishment that they most assuredly deserved. He imagined he'd be doling out some of both before much longer.

And now he was waiting for this very moment, as she jogged past, slightly winded and totally oblivious to his presence. She turned at her concrete drive and slowed only slightly going up the slight incline. As soon as she passed the corner of the house, he followed, looking up and down the road to verify that there were no eyes watching him. Today was that perfect opportunity that would always present itself to one willing to be patient.

Grace entered the sun porch at the back corner of the house and through the back door into the kitchen. She needed a shower and some dry clothes. Down the hall to her bedroom, she rifled through the drawer she always thought of as her "personals." Since it was a rainy and gloomy grey day, she would reverse that in her choices. She had a good tan and realized that she could wear her "sunshine" on the inside as she chuckled slightly to herself, pulling out bright yellow bikini panties and a matching camisole. Now, where was that little vibrator? She had put it in the very back of this drawer-who exactly she was hiding it from, she didn't know. Well, it wasn't there now-she'd worry about that later.

She shucked her soaking sweats, pushed off her sneakers and socks and tossed them on the ceramic tile of the bathroom floor. She really needed to put them in the washer as soon as she finished her hot shower. She spent at least ten minutes under the hot stream, automatically going through her cleansing routine. She didn't have a single deadline in the next forty eight hours. No one expecting her, no obligations that needed to be met, was not only pleasing, but unusual. Now it was time to reward her self with that pounding stream of water-after all, who else was gong to pleasure her? She closed her eyes; for some reason, she turned her back to the shower door, knowing it was just transparent glass.

By the time he had reached the sun porch she was no longer in sight. But since he had the lay of her little house, it would take a minute to locate her. As he reached the hallway, he could here drawers bumping and movement in the bedroom on the left at the end of the corridor. The door was slightly ajar and as he peered through the inch wide opening, she turned to enter the bath. He allowed a few seconds before moving silently across the Persian carpet which insulated his steps from the hardwood floor. He heard the shower go on and the bump of the metal framed glass door as it was opened and closed.

His hand grasped the doorknob and with only slight movement, very gradually turned it until it stopped. Hoping for the best, he eased the door open an inch, then two. The room was filling rapidly with steam, but he could see the gently curving shape of the skin on the other side of the glass partition. Was she humming to herself? No he decided. That noise was more mechanical. Moving only inches at a time, he eased himself into position that allowed for a clearer view. He saw the dark hair bent toward her chest, her hands down between her legs and the humming sound.

He smiled. She was using a vibrator on herself. Now he felt a sudden urge to help her. But no, he had to wait. He must establish control. As he turned to leave the bathroom, his eyes were drawn to the silky yellow lingerie. His hand went to it automatically and as he stroked the smooth fabric, his eyes closed in imagination of that same cloth against her warm skin. His dick stirred. He had to remind himself that he had an agenda. He had no intention of just jumping her bones right off the bat. He would wait until she was no longer afraid. He would wait in the bedroom for her.