It all started on a placid evening in early June, and all because of my rather pathetic lack of willpower. My wife Cassie had never smoked, and although she'd put up with my habit when we were dating, since we got married she'd persuaded me to only smoke outside of our new house twice a day, first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Now she was pregnant I'd agreed that even that wasn't enough and she'd insisted that I promise to give up completely. She was right of course, but I was already feeling a little panicky at the thought of giving up something that I'd been doing compulsively since I was twelve.
So you find me here in the back garden, enjoying the quiet darkness as I suck on my cigarette, savouring the comforting, familiar feeling of warm smoke filling my lungs. I've tried nicotine patches, and chewing gum and vaping but it just isn't the same. I know it's a disgusting habit and yes, I'll probably die of lung cancer before I'm fifty, but I'm reassured by the fact that I've now promised Cassie to quit and I know she's a strong enough character to hold me to that.
I inhale deeply. The hazy sunshine of this warm early summer day had given way to a humid night, perfectly quiet apart from the yap of a dog echoing around the neighbourhood and the distant buzz of traffic from the main road.
I loved this time of day, just after the sun had set but day hadn't completely given way to night and it was still pleasantly warm. It was much quieter here than in our old neighbourhood, and this was the time of day when I could truly forget the stresses of my IT job and relax, watching the lazy curls of blue-grey smoke curling upwards and dissolving into the still air, pinpricks of stars just starting to appear above.
As I smoked I watched the sky change from pale blue to lavender. I could see a sliver of silvery flickering light through a gap in our curtain; I'd left Cassie inside watching some period drama that I had found difficult to get into. My cigarette was halfway through when I saw the light come on upstairs in our neighbours house. I'd often seen Madelaine gardening, usually in a big floppy sun hat, cutoffs and pastel-coloured gloves. She was a tall, well-spoken lady with good posture and a glossy mane of auburn hair. She always looked smart and well-dressed; even when she was gardening I couldn't help noticing how neat she looked in her carefully coordinated leisurewear. She had a nineteen year old daughter so I guess she must have been in her mid forties but she certainly looked younger.
I'd not really spoken to her beyond some casual chat about the weather. I'd seen Cassie talking to her a few times over the garden fence though, complimenting her on the colourful display in her garden and I was aware they'd become quite friendly having gone to the same yoga and self defence classes at the local village hall. Cassie said that she was divorced and had been born in Singapore but had moved here when she was five.
I knew I shouldn't, but I found myself watching as she moved around what I guessed was her bedroom. The room has full-length glass doors which opened onto a small 'juliet' balcony, so I had a good view. It looked like she was getting some clothes out of her wardrobe, laying them on her bed. And then, she started undressing. I glanced at my watch, it was only eight-thirty, surely too early for bed, I thought.
I watched, holding my breath and swaying slightly in the semi-darkness as she unbuttoned her pale blue shirt and shrugged it from her smooth shoulders. Her house was angled slightly away from ours and my view was slightly from the side. She had a great body, and even from a distance I couldn't help staring at the plump swell of her boobs encased in a silky white brassiere.
Of course, I knew I should look away, I knew I was invading her privacy but I was only human and surely it wasn't doing any harm I reasoned. I found myself crouching a little, slipping into the shadows behind the fence and tucking my cigarette behind my back as she unbuttoned her well-worn jeans and with a brief wriggle of her hips, eased them down over her creamy thighs.
For some reason, she'd only turned on the bedside light, not the main overhead light. The subdued, angled lighting was perfect, the soft amber glow casting her in half-shadow emphasizing all the deliciously feminine curves of her semi-nakedness. Somehow I always find that an attractive woman wearing skimpy lingerie is even more sexy than when they're naked.
I did feel a little guilty, but I easily convinced myself that if she really didn't want to be watched she would have drawn her curtains, right? I mean, who knows, perhaps she was an exhibitionist, perhaps she got off on this kind of thing. She certainly had a body that was worthy of spying on I thought as I took in the womanly roundness of her hips, the firm-looking curves of her bottom, her long, smooth legs.
As I wrestled with my morality, Madelaine bent at the waist giving me a great view of her delicious arse as she carefully stepped into a floral dress, easing it up over her thighs, and slipping her arms through the thin straps. There must have been a full-length mirror just out of my view I figured, as I watched her reach behind and zip up the back then twist left and right, her fingers plucking at the thin cotton as she checked how it looked on her. It looked pretty good to me, emphasizing those lovely curves in all the right places.
I watched as she held her mobile at arms length and snapped a few selfies. Was she sending pictures to a boyfriend or lover? Perhaps she was just asking a friend or sister how she looked in the dress, whether she should keep it or send it back.
And then, she stepped away from the window, the light went out and I knew that the show was over as quickly as it had started, leaving me with only a series of hot images burned on my mind and a slightly guilty conscience.
--
"So," I said casually as I lent on the breakfast bar the next morning and munched a slice of brown toast, "You know now it's getting warmer, I was thinking we could invite the neighbours round for a barbecue, you know get to know them a little."
"Sure," Cassie said as she closed the fridge door. "I'm sure the Johnsons would love that, we said we'd have them round to have a look at the new kitchen."
She ran a hand under the roundness of her belly as she sat down at the kitchen table and started tucking into a healthy-looking bowl of granola. She was five months pregnant and now her bulge was really beginning to show, although she was the type of woman who despite my concerns was determined to keep working up to the last minute.
"And what about Madelaine? Do you think she'd be up for it?"
"Oh, I guess. Yes, we should definitely invite her although she doesn't strike me as the barbeque type."
"She lives alone, right? Her daughter's away at uni?"
"Yeah, she told me she's divorced. I think it was a while ago, she said she'd brought up her daughter pretty much on her own. Why?"
"Oh, no reason," I said, avoiding her gaze. "Just thinking of numbers."
--
After that first night, I made sure I went out at the same time, and sometimes I was lucky enough to catch teasing glimpses of her but I didn't get a proper view of her undressing again until a month later.
Cassie was on duty that night. She was a nurse, working in A and E, which meant that she often worked the night shift, leaving me to fend for myself. Since she became pregnant they'd put her on desk duty but I know she still found it very tiring, and would flop into bed exhausted in the early hours of the morning complaining about her swollen feet.
