For TDM
ON THE FIRST WARM DAY last spring, I decided it was time to clear out some undergrowth around my yard. It had been 15 months since Trudy died, and I had done nothing except mow the lawn a few times without much enthusiasm. Some people manage grief by gardening or other useful activity. That wasn't my style, but now even I could see something needed to be done.
I figured if I cut out a lot of crappy stuff, I'd start to get somewhere. So I dug out the clippers, rake, tree saw, and other tools that had accumulated and went to work. After more than a couple of hours, I was sore, my hands hurt, my knees were stiff, and I had cleared out a small section of one corner of the yard. As I stood up to admire what little I had done, I noticed my neighbor sitting in her window at the corner of her house.
She and her husband had moved in during the past year. Trudy would have remembered the exact date and been able to tell me where they had come from, where they worked, and so forth. I do know that they had two young children, mostly because I had seen and heard them playing in the yard.
I waved to her. She didn't wave back. It looked like she was wearing sunglasses, and it was a warm day, so maybe she had dozed off.
Meanwhile, it was time for lunch. I sprayed the dirt off my hands with the hose and held my glasses under the gentle stream, wiping them clean with a handkerchief. I glanced at my neighbor again, and as my eyes focused, I began to realize that she may have been naked, or at least topless. My yard and the neighboring wood sloped downward from their house, and all I could see was the upper part of her torso. It was clear to me now that her breasts were bare and that what I thought were sunglasses looked like a sleeping mask.
I decided it was none of my business and went inside for lunch. When I came back out, the two children were running around in the yard, and she was there in shorts and a loose shirt. She waved to me as I headed across the porch. I waved back and went back to work.
The next morning, I was having breakfast at the table on the back porch. Looking at their house, I realized that I could not actually see the window in question from the porch. Trying to look casual, I walked down to where I had been working and confirmed that the window was sheltered by hedges on their side and that my only view of it was from behind the trees in the lower corner.
I did some more work later that morning, trying to keep my attention on the weeds. After a lunch break, I went back to the corner of my garden, and there she was again, naked and masked. This time, she was standing with her back to the window, arms on top of her head, and I got a clear view of her lovely back and what looked like a nice round bottom. I looked for a while and went back to work.
The next day, Monday, everybody was off at work and school (or wherever they went), and I was on my own. After lunch, I went up to my home office to review some notes from my part-time consulting gig. I discovered that I could see a part of that window where my neighbor had been sitting, with a view right down into the space where she sat or stood. Interesting, I thought, and went back to work.
I heard the children playing around 3:00. The mother was sitting in a lawn chair watching them. About an hour later, the husband came home. After a flurry of greetings, everybody went back inside. About 20 minutes later, I saw them in that side room. She dropped a robe she had been wearing and put on the mask. He set up a stool in front of the window, then guided her over to it, helped her sit, and attached something to her hands behind her back.
From where I stood, I could see her whole body, right down to her bare feet on the rungs of the stool. She seemed to have a slim build with small breasts, what Trudy would have called a playful handful, and a firm stomach. I could not see any pubic hair, so I suspect she was shaved down there. And there was little in the way of fat on her.
She just sat there, just displaying herself, I guess. After about ten minutes, the husband came out into the yard with a rod of some sort and a spray bottle. He tapped her a couple times with the rod. She jumped at first, then continued to sit there, twitching when he tapped her. Then he spritzed her a few times. It looked like she laughed and shivered, but she never left the stool. After some ten minutes, he went back inside and reappeared in the room, undid her hands, and helped her off the stool. They gave each other a big hug and walked away.
They must be into some kind of exhibitionist thing, and I wondered whether or not I should tell them that I have a particular vantage point. I wondered whether I should let them know.
I was out Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons. On Thursday, the same routine happened. Mother and children were outside around 3:00, the husband came home around 4:00, and she was on display in the side room about half an hour later. This time, she was sitting in an armchair next to the window, one leg curled up on the seat, the other resting against the arm of the chair. I'm not sure what you could see from ground level, but from my office, I could see everything, or at least would have been able to if my eyes and glasses were better. I thought of digging through the closet to find my old binoculars, but decided I'd rather spend the time seeing what I could.
This time, after letting her sit there for however long it was, he came up behind her, put his hands on the top of her head, then slid them down her shoulders, arms, and onto her stomach. As he bent down, I realized he was naked as well. She had turned her head up, and they were kissing passionately as his hands roamed over much more of her body. I decided that I would not justify watching them get further involved, either to myself or to the memory of Trudy. I went downstairs to make dinner.
I kept myself busy away from home on Friday afternoon in order to avoid all temptation of spying and decided that I would try to find a way to introduce myself to the husband and somehow bring up the topic.
Saturday turned out to be a nice day, good for working in the garden and for the young couple to be out playing with the children. At one point, when the mother was engaged with the children, I waved at the husband and introduced myself.
"Sorry about not making a connection when you first moved in," I said. "My wife died a year and a half ago, and I've only started coming out of my shell this spring."
His name was Greg, and he introduced me to his wife Megan, who was over by the house with the children, Brian and Emily. "Trudy, my wife, was always good about names," I said, "so I may have to work at remembering yours."
I started talking about the garden and my efforts to clean things up. He said he had some tools from his parents and would be glad to help, if the need arose. "Thanks for that," I said. "But could I show you something? I could use some advice."
He has to walk along the fence, which ran along two other neighboring gardens, to get into my yard. "I was working on clearing out this area," I said as I led him to the far corner of the yard. "I thought you should know what I discovered."
As he stepped into the corner, he started to say, "I'm not sure what you're . . ." Then he looked up. "Oh! You can see our room. And you must have seen us last weekend. I get it."
