NOTE: This is the second in a continuing and growing exhibitionist and voyeuristic relationship between neighbors. It would be good to read "Laundry Room" first and then to look for the next in the series!
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Wednesday had become my favorite day of the week, Laundry day. It was my day off, but the rest of the household was busy, leaving me to my own devices, or shall we say weaknesses.
Today was not going so smoothly, though, as my house was slow to clear. As I climbed out of the shower, I heard the front door shut, the car start and drive off down the hill. Finally, everyone was gone. I pulled on my robe, made myself a cup of coffee and took my seat at the end of the dining room table where I could see your laundry room window through the small opening in my curtains.
The drapes in the window of your house were closed and I thought my fears had come true and the show had went on without me. As I sat there enjoying my morning coffee, I saw movement behind the large drapes. Then, two hands appeared high on the inside of the opening and you separated the drapes, opening them as wide as possible.
There you stood, fresh out of the shower. I knew because your head was wrapped in a white terry towel and you were in a white terry robe. Facing the window, you began to adjust the towel around your head with both hands. When you did, the belt came loose from its tie and the front of your robe fell open, revealing creamy cleavage and a mass of damp, dark pubic hair. You didn't seem to mind and continued your work with the hair towel as you stared down at the bottom of the window.
You walked away from the window and disappeared.
"Damn," I thought. It gave me hope, though, that you had not closed the drapes. Just when I was about to give up and find something to do for the day, you returned. This time, you were completely naked. You brought a stool over in front of the window. It came just above the sill. You sat down and began to brush your hair. The view of you sitting sideways on the stool was great, the arch of your neck, the side view of your breasts, your round, full hips.
I was happy to watch you as long as you were in the mood to brush your hair, because I had figured out by now you knew what you were doing and suspected what I was doing. I was always afraid, however, that if you caught me dead to rights watching you, the fun would be over forever. So, I almost fell to the floor getting out of your line of sight as you swung around on the stool and faced the window.
For a moment, you stared straight at my window, knees together, examining the curtain I had retreated behind. After what seemed like an eternity, your gaze dropped, you spread your legs wide and you began to brush the tangled mass of hair between your legs.
You would brush it and then run your fingers through it, from bottom to top. From the heaving in your chest, I could tell your breathing was changing. Then, the brushing stopped. You dropped the brush from your left hand and it went to your breast. With your left nipple between your thumb and forefinger, you begin to role it between them and to tug at it as your head went back and you looked at the ceiling. Your right hand began to part the hair it had been brushing and concentrate on the wetness beneath. Your finger would venture inside and quickly move upwards towards your navel. Your motions became faster and faster until you suddenly stopped, completely still for a second and, then, shuddered until I thought your would fall off the stool. While your eyes were closed, I moved back behind the curtain.
When the shuddering stopped, you once again stared straight at my window for a moment, got up and with the same motion you had opened the curtain on your window, it was closed.
