I lay restless on top of the sheets of my bed. My own perspiration has already dampened the imprint beneath my naked body. My penis lies awkwardly toward the right, with the tip touching my thigh. The warm night air moves softly in the window causing the thin cotton curtain to slowly billow into the room momentarily before returning to hang limp again. The faint shadows on the wall of my darkened room make patterns of odd shapes that reminded me of a cheap cardboard kaleidoscope I once had as a child. I remember sitting for what seems like hours looking into the small tube, lost in my own world. A world of lonely secrets. The night outside my open window was silent and lonely and though I hated it for its silence, I'm glad it was there. I feel like a drug addict must feel at times. Loathing the weakness that possesses me yet seemingly living for it.
I listened to the footsteps on the floor above me and those footsteps told me where she was, and at times, what she is doing. My phantom lover, who has never felt the touch of my flesh against hers, I thought to myself as I lay there.
From her small kitchen she moves down the hall, then to the bedroom where she crosses to the corner of the room and undoubtedly sits for a while at her dressing table. In my mind I can see her brushing her long black hair, staring at her own reflection blankly as she pulls the brush away from her head. I can also see her naked back, smooth and soft, looking like porcelain as she sits on the small velvet covered chair. I imagine how her long feminine legs look as she sits with them crossed erotically in front of her.
At some point after I began to watch her I realized that she had been married for a short time, that was before she moved into the flat upstairs. I also learned of the small white scar that ran from high on her left?shoulder down to a point just above her right breast was the result of her ex?husband loosing control. I didn't mean to, but by reluctantly listening to her telephone conversations, in time, I learned that he was unable to be satisfied like a normal man, so he resorted to threatening her with physical harm. It started almost as a joke the first time and before long it became a constant and necessary part of their sexual intercourse.
I suspected that she found it mildly exciting at first. But in time he needed more than simple threats and that's when things for her began to go wrong. The violence became stronger as he became weaker. One night, in a drunken rage, unable to ejaculate, he took it out on her by pulling the sharp blade through her soft flesh.
I waited. Unaware of how long.I listened as her footsteps crossed the room above me to her closet where she hesitated for a moment.
Was she taking off her dress? Hanging it up? Was she getting ready to go out again? I suppose it was still early enough. Was she putting on her bathrobe? Was she? I heard one of her shoes hit the floor, then the other. Then a long moment of silence until her footsteps softly crossed to the bed directly above mine and I heard the floor creak ever so slightly as she sat on its edge.
Time passed slowly now as my impatient mind tried to imagine what she was doing at that exact moment. Reading? Filing her fingernails? Smoking a cigarette? Or simply sitting on the edge of the bed looking off into the dim light of her room ? lost in herself like me. Feeling her own pain. Was she naked or was she wearing a bathrobe? Does she even know that I exist? Does she have even the slightest suspicion that I am here? Does she know that I have made myself a part of her life without her consent? And, does she know that I desire her more than anything I have ever desired?
I try to force sleep, knowing it's no use.
I hear the faint but now familiar sound that her bed makes as she lays down. I close my eyes against the darkness of my own room. Listening to the silence as it roars against my ears I wonder what she is doing at this very moment? After some time I hear her stirring above me as she crosses to her dresser, a muffled scraping sound tells me that she has opened a drawer, then after a brief lull she returns to her bed. I hold my breath momentarily ? filled with hope of what will come next. This quiet signal subtly invites me to be with her. To have a sexual encounter with her the only way that I can. Like a man without any will I sit up in bed and cross to my own closet and my own secret.
Lifting the small wooden panel that was once only intended to be a temporary cover and setting it aside I pull myself up and squeeze into the tiny space between the walls that was created by a long forgotten remodeling job. Moving carefully in this now familiar place, I feel my way forward in the darkness to a makeshift ladder that takes me up to a narrow passage. As I reach the end of the cramped space I lean against a wooden wall?braces and look into her room from behind a small ornamental iron grillwork that once served as the heater vent for her apartment. As I look at her in the soft light of her room I feel strangely relieved that once again she is there, at the same time excited that she is as naked as I.
The distance between us is only about ten to twelve feet and yet it sometimes feels like thousands as she tenderly moves her hand up to her breast as if exploring it for the first time. Her long feminine fingers of her hand move slowly around the smooth roundness of her pale skin, often hesitating to explore her erect, already aroused nipples. Her breath comes in a series of low moans as her pale, nude body lies back on the white sheets and pillows that cover the bed. Her other hand moves sensuously to her right thigh and I watch as she digs her brilliant red fingernails lightly into the flesh in response to her mounting sexual desire. Her deep black hair falls over the side of her face, covering her right eye, as her head turns to one side on her pillow. I feel the desire within me of wanting to reach out and gently smooth the hair away from her face. As I watch her caress herself, alternating between a rubbing motion with her palms against the side of her naked breast and then gently rolling her nipple under her fingers, my own breath becomes deeper and my hands begin to tremble slightly. As her other hand moves up from her thigh her little finger brushes against her naked clitoris sending a mild shiver through her body. A breathy whimper spills from her lips as her hand runs smoothly up her torso to her other breast. For a brief moment she caresses both of her breasts with her hands as she arches her back and softly draws her right leg up toward her body. As she holds it there for a moment I can see her swollen pink labia as they lay on both sides of her swollen clitoris. Her clean?shaven pussy gives me an unrestricted view of the sensuousness of her female genitals and my mind yearns to be inside her at that very moment. My breath has become nothing more than a sort of controlled, silent panting as I watch her; the blood courses through my body as my heart pounds heavily within my chest. My cock, already hard, stands and jerk's involuntarily as I watch and desire her.
