Chapter 5

Saturday morning arrived gray and quiet. Mark stood at his apartment window with a cooling cup of coffee, watching the street below out of pure habit. A jogger in tight black leggings and a neon sports bra moved past the building at an easy, steady pace... dark ponytail swinging, strong thighs flexing with every stride.

He wasn’t even trying.

The jump happened the moment the restless itch peaked.

Suddenly the world bounced. Pavement under running shoes, cool air on sweat-damp skin, the rhythmic jolt of breasts against the tight sports bra with every footfall. The woman’s name surfaced as Lena. Early thirties, training for a half-marathon, mind occupied by cadence and the podcast still playing in her earbuds. Mark took her body and continued the route for two more blocks, simply enjoying the powerful, efficient motion and the soft, continuous bounce against his borrowed chest, before hopping free again.

He landed back in his apartment only long enough to set the coffee down and walk outside.

A small tour group was gathering on the corner... visitors in comfortable shoes and sun hats, clustered around a guide holding a yellow umbrella. Mark slipped into a middle-aged woman near the back, felt the unfamiliar weight of a crossbody bag and the mild ache of feet that had already done too much walking, and spent the next forty minutes seeing his own city through tourist eyes. Historic façades, photo stops, the guide’s practiced jokes. All the while he scanned for better targets.

He found them at the public courts two blocks from the waterfront.

A group of women in their late thirties and early forties were deep into a lively game of pickleball. The one closest to the fence, sun-streaked hair, athletic tank top, laughing as she lunged for a shot, had the kind of full, soft breasts that moved freely under the fabric with every swing and sudden stop. Her friends were just as eye-catching. Mark jumped.

The woman’s name was Denise. Married, two kids currently with their father for the weekend, and highly competitive about a game she claimed was “just for fun.” Mark felt the light paddle in her hand, the quick lateral steps, and, most of all, the heavy, unrestricted bounce of her breasts with every jump and overhead smash. He stayed through three full games, deliberately choosing the most dynamic shots so he could feel them …