I had just separated from my wife of twenty-three years, and while we sorted things out, I had moved into a studio apartment. The complex I lived in was unique in that it was actually situated on a hill, in several levels, with drives at each level giving access to the buildings. In my case, the front of my building faced the hillside. The building below me was just the opposite: the back of that building faced the hillside. Now, since my kitchen and bedroom were in the back of my building, and since the buildings were all the same design, it was possible for me to look down into the kitchen and bedroom of the apartment below me. It was about forty feet away and from my vantage point, I had a fairly good view of the two rooms.
I hadn't been there more than a week when I realized that the apartment below me on the hill was occupied by a young woman. She usually kept her windows open, even though it was warm and I knew she had air conditioning.
It became my habit to observe this young woman. She was very pretty, with long dark hair past her shoulders and a slender, petite figure. Unlike many of the girls I saw around the complex, she didn't look burned to a crisp from constant sunbathing. She was a bit pale, but looked healthy.
We apparently kept the same hours. I got home at around seven in the evening and changed and began bustling around the apartment making myself dinner and so forth. I usually had no visitors. Most our friends had sided with my wife during the separation.
I would hear my neighbor's music start up as soon as she got home. She listened to a variety, but usually it was country or rock. I'd hear a little classical from time to time. Now, I did not stare at her. But while we both went about our evening routine, I would glance down to see what she was doing. I don't think she realized that she was being watched, at least not at first.
Our schedules were remarkably similar. We usually got home, changed, made dinner, watched TV and went to bed about the same time. Most of the time I saw her in shorts and a tee shirt. Sometimes she wore sweats. I saw her in a nightgown once, just before she went to bed. But then one night about a month after moving in, I looked down into her kitchen window. It was close to ten, and I guessed she was doing some final cleaning before turning in. Anyway, she was topless.
I quickly moved into my bedroom, which was dark, and watched her while she moved around her kitchen. Her breasts were smallish but firm, with pale pink, well-defined nipples. She seemed unaware of my avid gaze as she completed her tasks. The sight of this young beauty with bared breasts shook me to my core. I had been married to my wife for a long time, and while I had looked at other women, I had never cheated on her. I had been to strip clubs—I am a man, after all—but none of the women I saw there affected me the way this private show did. I found myself with an immediate hard-on.
After about ten minutes, my young lady finished in the kitchen, turned off the light, and reappeared in her bedroom. She walked up to the window and looked out. For a terrifying second, it seemed that she was looking right at me. Then she let down the blinds. Fifteen minutes later the light in her window went out and all was quiet.
I didn't know her name. I didn't know where she worked or what she did. In fact, I didn't know anything about her. But that night, she haunted my dreams. I tossed and turned for hours, unable to get her out of my mind. Finally, in desperation, I jerked off, spilling my come on the bed sheets.
For the next two nights, everything was normal. She appeared in the window as usual, but always dressed. On the third night, I heard music coming from her window. It was a tune by the Corrs, easy to dance to. I looked down and saw her in her kitchen. She was sweeping the floor and wiping down the counter. From time to time, she would move her hips a little, swaying to the music. As she passed in front of the window the paused and, I swear, looked up at me. I stepped back, certain that I'd been caught. Once again, I moved into my darkened bedroom to continue watching. I didn't see her in either window for about five minutes. When she reappeared, this time in her bedroom, my heart gave a lurch.
She was once again topless. And she was wearing what appeared to be a pair of white cotton panties. She carried a glass of red wine and as she moved about the room, she continued her little swaying dance. She seemed to be straightening up the room and putting clothes away. I saw her move over to her dresser. She put the wine down and, facing away from me, slowly and deliberately pulled down her panties. She had a very cute butt. She stood in front of the dresser for a minute or two, rubbing and massaging her breasts. She picked up the wine again and took a sip. Then she turned toward me and danced over to her bed. I got a good view of her full, natural bush.
I was immediately hard as a rock. I began rubbing my cock through the thin material of my boxers. For just a moment, as the Corrs continued to play, my girl danced for me. Then she put the wine down on her bedside table, picked up a nightgown, whipped it over her head, and the show was over. She moved over to the window and looked up at me. Was that a smile that played around the corners of her mouth? Then she let down the blinds and I could see no more.
I pulled down my boxers, fell on the bed and masturbated furiously until I spurted hot, thick and copious all over my belly and hand.
***
Once again, I didn't see her for a couple of nights. The blinds on her windows stayed closed even though they were lit from behind. Then, one Friday night when I got home from work, I noticed that the blinds were again open. I saw her briefly moving around in her kitchen, I heard her television, and then at about ten, the kitchen light went out and the light in her bedroom window came on.
When this happened, I moved to my bedroom and turned off the lights. The television in her apartment went off, and a soft country song began playing. The light in her bedroom window changed color to a rosy pink. I pulled up a chair by my window and waited. It seemed that time was suddenly suspended. It was completely dark outside. Her window reminded me of a movie screen. I could see clearly into her bedroom, forty feet away.
The first thing I saw was her leg. It appeared out of the left side of the window and stretched upward. Then it bent at the knee, her toe touched the floor, and my private dancer stepped into view. As she moved into the window, my heart nearly stopped. She was nude, or at least nearly nude. She had on a pair of white stockings, high heels, and a white thong.
The music played on. She danced for me, stretching out her arms and swinging her hips sexily. She placed her hands on her breasts, offering them to me, then shaking them gently and moving away. She sat down on the floor, turned over on her hands and knees, and flexed her body upward. I strained to see the furry lips of her pussy and the dark indentation of her butthole. I could see the white string of the thong stretched across her shallow puckered anal pore.
She turned back on her back, hooked her thumbs into the thong, and in a flash it was off. For a second, she remained on her back and held the thong up for my inspection. Then she got up and, completely nude except for her stockings and shoes, danced for me. She thrust her pelvis out at me; she framed her bushy pussy with her hands, offering it to me the same way she did her breasts. She turned about, spread her feet wide, bent at the waist, and touched the floor with her hands, giving me a full and unhindered view of her pussy and butthole. She held the pose long enough for me to etch the scene in my mind forever, then straightened up, put her hands on her hips, shook her ass at me, and moved away. At that instant, the music stopped and the light went out.
My heart was beating so hard I wasn't sure I could stand it. Sure, I'd been to my share of strip clubs. I'd seen beautiful women dance naked before. But this time was different. This time, my dark-haired beauty was dancing for me. Me alone. It was like we shared a secret just between us. It was like she was mine.
This time I did not masturbate. I was simply too shaken, too in awe of what I had just witnessed. I sat at the window for another fifteen minutes, but the light never came back on. I finally went to bed, haunted by the vision of my lovely pale, dark-haired dancer.
I slept fitfully until about six the next morning. I awoke groggy and unrested, still reeling from what I had seen the night before. Force of habit caused me to look out my window down to hers. Once again, my heart skipped a beat.
