Yes, I know you're looking.
I've known you can see me for weeks now. I glimpsed you watching me as I returned home from work, watched as I got out of my car, locked the door and made my way up the path to the door.
I've seen you at your window, glancing across the road to my house as I close my curtains for the evening. I've sensed you watching me, even when I can't see you at your window. I know you're there.
I've seen you too. My new neighbour. I saw you leaving the house in the morning, dressed sharply for work. You looked great in your suit, your short skirt and sheer tights showing your perfectly formed body, those high heels clack-clacking on the pavement, drawing my attention. You're attractive and alluring.
Tonight, I sense you watching me as I come home. I've been to the gym. All the hard exercise has left my muscles aching in that burning, tight way and I need a shower to help unknot the sinew, tendons and muscle fibres in my shoulders, arms and abdominals. I'm feeling good, and that makes me feel bad. I want to take a risk.
I glance to your window and glimpse a shadow moving, I know it's you... watching me. I go into the house and then switch on all the downstairs lights so that you can see me clearly. I put my gym kit in the washing machine, potter a little downstairs before making my way upstairs. The full-length window in the front bedroom looks down the landing to the bathroom, directly in the line of sight from your window.
I turn on the landing light and then go into the front bedroom. I leave the main light off but switch on the dimly bright bedside lamp. It's just enough light for you to see me without broadcasting my actions to the wider world.