The first time I noticed her I could tell she had just gotten home. She set her bag down and walked over to her full-body mirror. She cocked her head to the side, one hand going up to the base of her neck. The light from a distant room formed a line along her cheekbones. She was watching herself as she unzipped the side of her little black dress. Lucky for me, that side was the one facing me. I receded into the shadows and stilled my breathing, like I was afraid she might be able to hear it.
She stepped out of her dress and underneath was lacy, black underwear. She was wearing one of those bras where the embroidery is all that is covering the nipples, and her underwear had three straps on either side that spread apart as they crossed her hips. All I could imagine was threading my thumb through and yanking them off. I could feel my boner pressing against my jeans as I watched her. Next she reached up to her neck again with her right hand and massaged herself softly. Her hand dropped down across her chest, flicking across her perfect cleavage before stopping at the line of her underwear. She then ran off and picked up her phone. I had never been angrier with a stranger before. She disappeared once she hung up and never returned to the room. I decided to take a cold shower and go to sleep.
I didn't see her loitering again for a couple of weeks, only in passing. She would jet across her apartment in a flash of long, brown hair that I could imagine smelled intoxicatingly good. I found myself obsessing over these imagined physical details of hers. I daydreamed about the divet in her collarbone, the shadow her lashes made across her face.
Then, one night, at approximately 1AM, she was back. She walked through her apartment in a robe, and I immediately became frenzied about the thought of her taking a bath. I imagined licking captive water droplets off her stomach, and tasting the heat evaporating from her with my lips. Even from a distance, I could tell her a few, wet hairs were clinging to her neck slightly. She stopped at the mirror again, like she was inspecting herself. My breath hitched when I noticed the robe was slightly open.
My heart skipped a beat when her hand when to the tie and tugged. Maddeningly slowly, her robe opened. I could see the curvature of her amazingly exposed left leg. It drove up to her hipbone, which poked out below a firm stomach. Upward still, her shapely left breast was fully out, at odds with her impossibly small waist, and my hand could no longer resist taking out my cock and stroking it.
She shook out her hair and the still-wet ends wrapped around and hugged her breast. I longed to grab that hair out of the way and pull it back so she would have to tilt her head back and stick her chest out, thrusting her wanting nipple directly into my waiting mouth. The tug of her arm on her robe jerked me back to the display in front of me. The robe was fully open now, and I could make out a landing strip where I wanted to stick my tongue and see if she tasted as forbidden as she looked. My dick has never been harder, and I continue to service it, my palm pressed against my window as if I could burst through and her find her flesh on the other side. I was getting close, so close, when there was a knock on my door...
Angrily, I return to the window when I am done answering my new neighbor's questions to see she is no longer there. My dick is still throbbing, but without her I have lost the urge to take care of it. I sleep fitfully and decide I won't miss her again. I dig out my old camera equipment and set it up so it faces her window.
Again, for the longest time there is nothing. I check the recordings daily in case I missed an occasion but find nothing. Then one afternoon my camera shows her laying down on her couch. She is wearing a delightfully short sundress, her hair splayed out around her. I can tell she is reading, but I have no idea what. I watch her little movements for the longest time, and somehow I am hard just from this. Then I see her set the book aside and just stare at the ceiling for a few minutes.
Her left hand heads to her breast and start to squeeze slightly. Then she grabs her strap between her forefingers and tugs her dress down, as her breast pops out. She pinches her protruding nipple and I notice I have pre-cum from the excitement. Her right hand starts to rub her clit through her fabric of her dress and I see her pushing her head back and inaudibly moan; I long to hear that moan in person. Then her hand disappears entirely under the folds of fabric and I can see her fingering herself. I am jerking off harder than I ever have before. I see her open mouth, waiting for mine, my finger, my cock...before the recording cuts off. I decide enough is enough and set a plan into motion.
There is a knock at my door. I have been anticipating this for 5 days now. I wrote to her to come over on this day, at 8pm. I open the door and there she is, even more staggering in person. She is wearing a tight, red dress that hugs her incredible figure.
She comes inside and I start, "Hi, I am Marc."
"Hey Marc, I am Selene...so, this note of yours was kind of vague. You've been kind of watching me?"
"Yeah.." I pause, not sure how in depth to go, "live here long?" I ask, deciding to change the subject.
"A couple of months only," she says.
I offer her wine and she sits on my couch, near the same spot where I have sat and masturbated furiously while watching her. The fact that she is unaware is almost as erotic as she is. She drinks and I see her full lips grasp the glass rim.
I decide, fuck it, and decide to go for it: "I have been watching you...fairly regularly. I've also decided I must have you."
