Previously On...
Ch. 1 - Thursday night, my new roommate Charlie decided to have a casual masturbation session on the couch while I sat there...
Ch. 2 - The next morning, Charlie tells a story about an incident at work, one that's... hotter than expected...
Ch. 3 - Later that day, Charlie's phone call is a voyeuristic paradise...
Ch. 4 - A movie night turns dirty as Charlie becomes intimate with her bottle...
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The following morning, a "lazy Saturday", I did everything in my power to wait her out. I just couldn't see her yet. The whole night I spent in complete disbelief, replaying every single second of the night before, every sip and swig she took of her drink, every time the bottle rubbed and touched her body, every...
At some point, around 10 or so I heard the front door close.
This is my chance
, I thought to myself. I walked out, seeing the living room which looked like a warzone, in the sense that the evidence of her activities last night still sat on the coffee table. In general, it was something I normally would feel very uncomfortable about, and in some ways I still did, but for some reason, just
knowing
where that bottle had been made it at least a little less triggering.
But where was Charlie? Not that it had worked in the past, but I felt that I had a boundary about touching her things, her left-behinds. I wasn't going to clean it up, I decided. But seeing it there did more than confirm my boundary, it also begged so many questions about
how
it got there to begin with. Why did it happen?
I still couldn't understand what any of it meant. And if I talked to her about it, would she have another excuse? Did the one drink do last night what going out for drinks had supposedly done for the night before? Was
this
a new normal?
God, I hope not... I think??
I had to try and determine if I would talk to her about it, which I felt like I had to do, but it definitely made me nervous. When she got back, maybe I'd...
Wait...
As I stood in the living room in my pajamas and bathrobe hanging open off of my shoulders, I saw something pass by the window.
The window opened to a shared porch as I lived in a sort of 4-way split duplex, having the bottom right apartment facing the street. The porch was covered and long, sanded wood and a slotted wooden fence-line wall overlooking a small hilly slope to the street. I had a few chairs on my side tucked against my wall and a few hanging outdoor plants off of the eaves out there.
I rarely used the space myself, but occasionally I might bring my computer out there in good weather and work if it seemed no one was around. Not something I'd do on a given Saturday though, I would definitely be likely to bump into someone else who lived in the building.
And with a quick inspection through the window,
holy fuck,
I looked as Charlie was bent over on a yoga mat, tight leggings hugging every crevice of her figure and a thin-fabriced, loose and flowing shirt dangling off of her, which from my angle meant I saw everything. And if I could see everything, so could anyone else.
I considered opening the window and letting her know that she was 'exposed' but I was stopped as she started contorting while in her downward facing dog position. She twisted a little to the left, then a little to the right, both directions allowing her dangling breasts to sway from side to side. They fell against her chin from what I could see which was just a little alluring.
And backing up, her peach colored pants were so tight that I could make out the contours of her legs from the capris ankle on up to her hips and ass. And as she adjusted just a little, it became instantly clear that when she stretched like that, the fabric pulled taut enough that I could make the imprint of her dark, curly bush.
Damn.
She dropped her hips down and changed to a move that brought her pelvis to the floor and pushed her chest forward, I think called cobra or snake pose or something. She went back and forth between this and downward dog, then lifting one of her arms and presenting sideways, her front facing my side of the window, her shirt drooping and most of her breast slipping out of the large armhole, almost to the nipple. She rotated a few times from one arm to the other, each time, seeming like maybe the slip would happen. I was fixated. I didn't mean to be. But I was.
Eventually she turned to lying on her back and working some more that way. Her chest remained covered but it was tenuous. She thrusted her pelvis upwards, revealing a very defined cameltoe, then dropped back to her butt, leaning forward in a crunch, pressing her chest to her knees. On none of these did she lose her top but so often, it felt like a swift breeze could leave her exposed.
I don't know how long I watched, unmoving, just present with her. Being protected by the line of sight of the window made me feel like I was watching something on a computer screen or something. I know it wasn't. I know that this was very questionable to just stare at someone who doesn't know she's being watched, but... public space, no?
But more than my awareness of watching her, what really brought me out of it was that eventually loud footsteps came up the stairs on the opposite side of the porch and my neighbors, an older couple, had returned home. I didn't know them very well, but we'd always been friendly enough, to the point where I didn't really want my new roommate to create any awkwardness or tension between us.
