Top Floor Balcony
It is really quite strange when you catch a friend during an intimate moment; not a lover, but a friend whom you have know long enough for them to be a part of your regular life.
Nor am I talking about flatmates, possibly caught by surprise coming naked out of the bathroom late at night, thinking the dash nude back to their room would not be encountered due to the hour – no, this is more the chance glimpse through a part open bedroom door, seeing them busy on the bed, or catching a flatmate's friend drunkenly frigging herself on the couch for him, just as you come in later than expected from your own night out.
The incident that I have in mind was all of the above, and of course far more – why would I be telling you otherwise?
Aviva had tended bar at my local for a year or so before leaving the job and town to follow a post-grad degree; but now she was back, still elfin-ethereal and willow thin, fluid vibrancy was in her every movement – a truly unique beauty with body and mind fully tempered by self assurance and readiness for life.
I'd been to her new place just the once since her return, a month or so ago when I'd seen her struggling on the street and offered to help with the awkward load of grocery. Hers was a fine place on the top floor and surprisingly quiet at the back despite the nearby traffic and pedestrian bustle upon three sides – it was the way the town could be behind the high facades, where hidden residential projects had grown and filled out the hollow bits. Entering their domain was literally akin to stepping into another part of the world – it did not feel connected. Her flat had the added advantage of looking out over the river at the rear, so it had no neighbours staring straight back at the balcony-terrace, which also was conveniently screened off at both sides.
I mention my having been to the apartment, as its terrace's seclusion is an integral part behind the why of what happened, did so. With nothing taller to the rear to overlook her privacy, Aviva often took the opportunity to sunbathe nude, which explained her deep and recently smooth tan, with her loose shirt hanging and hinting tantalisingly at no bikini lines each time she leant forward... but I digress. She told me about this penchant for nude sunbathing that day, adding in a mischievously off-hand way, that she'd become used to it whilst out in the countryside's seclusion during her preparation for the final year's thesis – it was a picture that quite caught my imagination.
The only thing that stopped her doing so in this new place, was the tall multi-storey car park's top level, its blank-wall looming across from the street's end conveniently blocked the rest of the town from peering into the back of her shared apartment. Yet its blind brick was not the problem, its top floor was, being of the open variety, and anyone up there could definitely see into her haven.
She apparently changed her mind on that score I have since learned, seemingly upon my casual advice of the time, when I'd pointed out that on such hot days the whole open air level was a
bad
place to leave any vehicle, even a motorbike - making an unbearable blast-furnace of its interior or saddle for the returning occupant if left for anything more than ten minutes; and as no one ever managed a short trip into the city, it would remain mostly deserted during the long days of summer heat.
I knew this for certain as that top level had provided me with a personal chill out spot for some time now, its location having the added attraction of built in and exceptionally fine views out across the small city and across the bay to the hills across its waters. That deserted place was a splendidly quiet spot, and so convenient for a bit of peaceful, recreational smoking. It was also somewhere no one would think of looking, including those in authority who periodically frowned upon such activity – most people rarely look higher than the shop façias in towns, and that included Aviva I learned on a June afternoon two days ago, when I got to inadvertently witness her intimate moment.
From that high vantage point, I had been relaxing awhile, revelling in my freedom from the crowds in town and focusing vaguely upon those stately slopes of pale, shadow-blue hills lightly framing the bay's furthest shore. Having finished my smoke and reached the level of subsequent calm needed to face going back down into the morass of people, I moved on around the protective wall, needing first a brief moment of scanning across the town, to let it bring me gradually back into connection with its physical actuality – a preparation of sorts before re-entering the rude flow of ruder people – go straight down there after contemplating the wide and openly peaceful spaces, then you'd be dangerously open and vulnerable to all sorts of shit.
Looking out over the rooftops and church spires, it occurred to me about then that I could also test my supposition of a month earlier, to see if the car park would indeed look down onto that secluded balcony, unimpeded.
Head angling down and forward over the wide parapet, following the weight of my gaze, I saw her move; slightly weed-fuddled thoughts and brain caught up with what the eyes were already registering and equally slowly trying to alert my mind to... the fact that I was seeing her naked down there upon a recliner, calmly reading a book – even at thirty or more metres distance, she was in perfect view.
Perception and its order of flow jumbled and jostled in my mind, leading it across the full two seconds it took me to completely slot the situation into place – my mind did not need to be told what it was seeing, somehow having already sensed and grasped the situation fully, so it was now doing the equivalent of just sitting back and enjoying what my eyes were telling it.
Ahead of this, a twitch of an erection heralded perception at another level, feeling it swelling so smooth and freely in advance of my glacial thoughts' slide into place – perhaps my nose had caught a subtle up-draught, something with a hint of her body-scent, or more perhaps...
I shook my head at the flight of fantasy, its flashed ideas dominating my mind in that brief interlude.
Like sure she's been touching herself out there on the balcony – c'mon, nudity is one thing, but opening yourself to the greater world like that...? Out in the countryside maybe, but I doubt she'd be so comfortable doing anything like that, not here.
Shaking my head to clear the distracting images from their tenuous toeholds, I smiled ruefully and looked back down again, telling my imagination to behave itself.
So there she was, lain upon her belly and slightly glistening in the sun, her smooth and round ass looking back up at me, gaze drawn to it and further to the divine angle formed by her relaxation-parted legs. From that angle and distance I could see nothing of her dark pubic hairs, but my imagination furnished the perception of her heat-swollen lips as they'd be, just visible through them. None of me was complaining about the actual lack however, I had more than enough to enjoy before me as it was.
