Dennis the Voyeur

Author's Note: If you are looking for a quick 'titillating' read then this chapter is

not

for you. This chapter only introduces the main character of the story and reveals the background for what is to come. It is intended for those that relish the backstory as well as the eroticism. Either way, Enjoy!

Contains: No sexuality. This chapter does discuss the fetish of voyeurism. No children (EVER) and No Bestiality.

Tags: voyeurism, watching, camera, surveillance

If you are offended by discussion of such subjects then do not read further.

DENNIS THE VOYEUR

Chapter 01: Who is that weird guy?

Everyone was in agreement; Dennis was one weird fella.

He had worked as the janitor of the rather elegant Regency Court apartment block in the exclusive and prestigious Regency district of the capital for, well, all his adult life, probably -- no one really knew.

He also lived unofficially in the rabbit warren of tunnels and cellars below the building that was his domain. It was not a formal dwelling but Dennis had stowed a small bed and closet in one of the large storage rooms to use as his bedroom. There was also a small kitchen and sink area suitable for use as a place to prepare food but also to wash, which he did occasionally.

No one ever ventured below ground and Dennis was only seen above ground when a water pipe, or similar, required maintenance. A notice board in the entrance hall had been fixed to the wall with brass pins and strips of paper for the residents to write on and to fixed to the board whenever such a problem arose.

Dennis mostly pottered around the building at night. The most that anyone had ever heard him say was "Doing the rounds", which he would announce if he should pass someone on a stairwell during the midnight hours.

The apartment owners who had lived here for some time, no longer bothered to greet him, and newcomers never received more than a grunt as a reply to their morning or evening salutations -- until they too learnt to ignore the weird Dennis.

All of the apartment owners knew hardly anything more about the man. Perhaps it would be wrong to say he was secretive, but he was clearly a socially-inept person, shy beyond reasoning. None of the residents knew his last name, referring to him only as Dennis, and certainly no one could recall being told what his surname was. He was simply, Dennis the Janitor.

He was, to look at, quite ordinary: A middle-aged man, with a portly pot belly. His head was completely bald on top, yet he grew his thinning hair extra-long at one side and combed it, quite neatly, over the top. This flap of hair always looked wet and greasy as he applied resistance to his hair's natural movement through copious amounts of saliva regularly applied with the fingers of his hand. His face seemed to be permanently covered in a flurry of unsightly stubble that grew in clumps and irregularly around his fat cheeks.

The eight apartment owners - families, couples and singles too - enjoyed a private life as each dwelling occupied its own floor. It had an elevator, as well as a central stairway, and a subterranean car park exclusively for the use of residents, which was extremely useful in such a busy and expensive city. The building also enjoyed central heating and central air conditioning too. All of which was serviced by the weird fella called Dennis the Janitor.

However, many of these owners were not satisfied with the Janitor and most had written complaints to the lease owner of the building about Dennis' weird behaviour and, not to be too unkind, his stench. These letters were addressed to the well-known but totally unapproachable lease owner and those letters had respectfully requested a new Janitor to replace the weird Dennis. All such requests had always been unexplainably rejected.

The lease holder of the building to whom the owner occupiers had complained was Lady Barnister. She was the widow of the late Lord Barnister and royally regal in her own right. She had never visited Regency Court Apartments as all business matters were handled by her trusted firm of solicitors, and all daily maintenance was handled and completed by the onsite janitor, Dennis. Lady Barnister lived on the top of the hill overlooking the city in the 19-bedroom mansion known as Summerton Hall, which was surrounded by 850 acres of land and her tenant farmers. Of course, this wholly explains why the good Lady was well-known and totally unapproachable.

Life pottered on for the 8 families as normal, or as normal as their lives could ever be. That is to say, until the bearded and suited Mr Lorimer, the named-partner of the most esteemed firm of solicitors in the town, began to approach residents with a financial offer from an anonymous off-shore Trust.

The complicated offer can be summarised as the following: For a sum of money equivalent to double the market value, the apartment owner would sell their apartment to the Trust. The trust would then lease back the apartments to the current owners as future tenants. The Trust promised to redecorate, refurbish and reequip the apartments with modern, energy-saving conveniences and up-to-date integrated computerised gadgets -- all of which would be maintained free of charge. But that was not all: After refurbishment the tenants would then receive 12 month's rent-free accommodation. Thereafter, the annual rental price would be agreed at half of the usual going rate, and this would be fixed in perpetuity, or for the rest of the tenant's life, whichever came first - but probably the latter.

It was an elaborate Equity Release scheme and the offer would seem too good to turn down.

However, the contracts did contain an unusual non-disclosure agreement. Each tenant was prohibited from discussing this or any business regarding the Trust or the building with any of the other residents. In effect, and for whatever reason, the Trust wanted to conduct the purchase of all eight apartments in complete secrecy from all other owners.

There was one other clause of consequence -- one unbreakable rule. Its inclusion inevitable led to 3 of the 8 families moving out of the building completely. Albeit that each effected family was suitably remunerated with a tax-free compensation payment of £1 million in addition to the doubled purchase price. That rule was 'No children were permitted' -- not even overnight sleepovers of grandchildren or similar. The building and the amenities would be converted to become suitable for the professional, high-flying, young executive class.

One by one, like dominoes, the negotiations were held and the apartments purchased by the Trust.

But how would this effect the poor Janitor living in the cellar? Not at all, as he was the Trust.

Dennis was, in fact, the only nephew of Lady Barnister. Not only was he the only nephew of the grand lady, but he was also the only living relative that the team of esteemed solicitors could trace in execution of her last will and testament of an estate reported to be worth in excess of £458 million, after taxes.

Dennis had inherited the entire estate some 12 months before our story began, and to this day he still resides in the basement, working as the Janitor -- even if he actually was the multi-millionaire owner unbeknownst to all, but especially the residents.

Dennis had not been remotely interested in Summerton Hall, nor the other 4 apartment blocks he now owned, nor the farms, factories and businesses which he had also inherited. He simply wanted to stay in the basement of Regency Court, where he had lived and worked all his adult life, and to remain employed as the building Janitor. The money he had inherited, on the other hand, would come in quite handy.

The Trust (aka Dennis), was able to plan and to organise each apartment refurbishments. And as each apartment's refurbishment was completed, so the next domino fell. Within a year, all apartments as well as the lease holding belonged to Dennis' trust. The tenants, whom had been temporarily housed for the past few months in the town's Grand Hotel - at the Trust's expense of course - were eager to return to begin living in the luxuriously renovated apartments.

There had remained only one refusal: Apartment 7, objected to the rule regarding children. It became an obstacle to far for dear Mrs Johnson. She was a lonely old lady of 83, whose only visitors were her three great-grandchildren, whom she loved dearly and enjoyed them coming to stay over for weekends and some holidays. But this issue was satisfactorily resolved when her son happily accepted the trust's offer after he inherited the apartment following Mrs Johnson's unfortunate accidental death, due to a fall on the stairs late at night.

Thereafter, the other elderly residents took the money and the opportunity to retire to the country -- in deed, one couple even sailed off on a purchased yacht for a retirement life on the high seas of the world.

These vacated apartments were promptly leased out to young, professional couples who could hardly believe their luck when they were chosen from the hundreds of hopeful applicants. Over a short period, the building was being transformed into a vibrant and modern complex of first-class apartments containing energetic and modern couples or singles, all suitably interviewed, vetted and appraised by Mr Lorimer to specifications outlined by Dennis the multi-millionaire Janitor.

Utopia for everyone? Not quite so fast.

For all was not as it first may have seemed. You see, Dennis

was

being secretive, and not only about hiding behind his off-shore Trust. He had another secret. A deep and dark secret.

Dennis had intimate knowledge, and singular control, of the warren of ducts and tunnels and service corridors which the residents were completely unaware of. He had for years being creeping around the hidden sectors of the building and spying on the residents. Peeping through prepared holes, which he had strategically drilled, and with access to the numerous ventilation grills, he had stealthily observed their lives for years. Putting it plainly: Dennis was a voyeur.

He dearly loved to secretly watch the goings-on (and the going-in) within the master bedrooms, and even the master-bath. Indeed, Dennis was a pervert and he loved to voyeur the sexual activity of the residents. Though he drew the line at any apartment with children -- and thus the reason for the unusual contractual stipulation prohibiting children.

The only problem for Dennis was that, as he aged, it had become harder and harder to move around the building secretively. Such creeping about in tight spaces and hiding behind panelled walls had begun to aggravate his middle-aged joints and muscles.

However, his fortune, both in money and karma, now enabled him to modernise his viewing habits.

During renovations, Dennis was able to plan and retro-fit the fibre-optical cabling as well as to secrete the placement of Ultra HD cameras, disguised as lamp switches or buried into the ceiling and within the numerous appliances, smoke and CO2 alarms within each apartment. The high-end spy hardware was of such professional quality that even he could not locate the lens, even though he knew it to be there.

Of course, Dennis had ensured that, contractually, none of the integrated devices, and certainly no fixture or fitting, such as light switches and alarms, could be replaced or repaired by any resident or sub-contractor. The building Janitor would have to be called to repair any issue, using the new phone app given to all residents to send messages directly to the Janitor.

All the fibre-optic networking in the building led directly to the cellars - the entrance to which had now been barred and secured from all residents by way of a large, steel and sound proof door.

Beyond this door, were the tunnels and connecting rooms and the entrance to his inner sanctum. This was a huge room and had been equipped akin to the mission control centre of NASA. Housed around an enormous horseshoe-shaped central desk, the room contained large, wall-mounted screens, touch-screen monitors and panels to control the integrated electronic devices within the apartments. The adjoining secured room held the banks of high-end computer servers which connected, and intercepted, the internet activity for all apartments in the building.

Tonight was a glorious moment, as Apartment 2 was due to be repopulated by Mr and Mrs Baker, the young professional newly-weds who were a new couple to Regency Court having signed their lease when the Kettle family had moved out with their children.

***

> Continue to part 02 -- Apartment 2, Mr and Mrs Baker

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased) is intended or should be inferred.