When I first saw you watching me, you might have caught me off-guard. I was just back from the office party, you see, the Christmas extravaganza of booze, banter and...well...babes, I suppose. But apparently I wasn't a babe, because I came away without even a random fondle.
But I was certainly more than a little worse for the drink that night when I saw you across the street, following my every move. I came home in a taxi, feeling a little old and rejected - I was only just thirty-two, but since I was now divorced, I think everyone at the office viewed me as off-limits.
You didn't, though, did you? Even though we'd never even so much as met. I arrived at my bedside and kicked off my shoes, and you were there, watching. Of course I didn't realise for a while. Your house had lain empty since the fall, and I had seen no one looking around it. I had never seen you move in, had I? Where was the truck? Where were all the burly men shifting your furniture inside?
My curtains were open - that's how it all started. They were open, and because my head was spinning a little, I really couldn't be bothered to go to the effort of closing them. Besides, my attention had been drawn by my full-length mirror by then. How could I realise how close it was to the window, nor how large and low-to-the-floor the window was, in my state?
I saw myself in it, and the questions started rolling into my head. Was I too old, now? Was I getting lines around my eyes? Were my curves no longer appealing to the eye?
So I started imagining that I had someone there. That I had caught the attention of some mystery man who lived in my mirror. The funny thing was that I had caught the attention of a mystery man - but you lived across the street, not in my mirror.
I danced for you, the music in my head. I used to be a ballet dancer, you know, back in college and before. I pulled up my dress to reveal my lace-topped thigh-high hold-ups, I imagined your eyes transfixed on my sensuous movement. I smiled, loving the attention. I pushed the straps of my dress to the sides, over my shoulders, and it dropped to the floor.
I hope you were impressed: I went to Victoria's Secret that day especially for the party. Black silk snug against my curves, the g-string hiding the bare minimum. I ran my hands over my body, imagining your strong fingers brushing against my skin. My nipples were hard, pushing through the soft silk bra that created such mouth-watering cleavage - I'd turned heads at the party, even though I had apparently been off-limits.
I certainly turned your head, though, didn't I? With that tiny g-string perched between my buttocks. I found myself in a daze, stroking my mound through the soft sensual silk, saturating it with my moisture. I flicked the catch on my bra and allowed it to drop to the ground, freeing my succulent breasts. Not bad, if I do say so myself. I played with my cleavage, cupping, squeezing, questioning my shape, wishing for your hot mouth on my erect nipples.
And I saw you.
Or at least - I saw a glint of light from the corner of my eye. You couldn't have hidden forever, though, not with a clever girl like me living opposite. I would have scented you out of your hole sooner or later, especially with you being so damn attractive and all.
I felt strange at first. Even with the alcohol slumbering within my bloodstream, a naturally conservative shock took hold of me. I had to have a second look. There you were: the clear reflection from the lens of a telescope. You moved it slightly, so I knew you were there, knew you were watching. It was a cloudy night, so even had I known you were an astronomy professor, it was obvious you weren't looking at the sky.
I faced you - which is probably the stupidest thing if I wanted to maintain modesty - and clutched my breasts with my hands, hiding them. I was pretty drunk, though, so I didn't think to just leave or close the curtains or turn out the lights. I'm glad I didn't. I'm glad I wasn't afraid of you, that I stood there and sought you out, looking for you in your window.
You could have been a complete weirdo for all I knew, but somehow I knew you weren't. I hoped for the best, and you were there. The logical processes in my brain probably weren't on top form, but there you go. Sometimes you just have to live a little, let go. I figured - hey, you'd seen most of me already, and if you were still interested, I couldn't look too bad.
So my hands came away from my chest and I stepped toward the window. I had never been so turned on - my whole body was on fire. I touched myself for you - running my fingers over my soft breasts, fondling my nipples, pinching them and squeezing them as the feelings rippled through my body.
My fingers flowed down my stomach, flat as I'm sure you appreciate. And both hands were between my thighs, revelling in the heat, the wetness, that teasing, skimpy g-string. My digits squirmed their way around the hot, soaking silk, seeking out my immaculately shaven pussy. I loved the complete freedom of movement that my hairless mound gave me, my fingers gliding over my skin to easily access my pussy lips and the tiny hardened nub that dwelled just above. And my g-string left the scene, though I don't remember purposely removing it. I had never come standing up before, but I did that time. The first time in front of you. It was incredible, and you hadn't even lain a finger on me.
I had to sit down then, I really did. I suppose I must have drifted off to sleep. I dreamt of you, you had come round to finish me off. But you didn't - not that night.
-
I woke up in the morning and was glad it was Saturday, because I didn't feel too great. Actually it wasn't even the morning when I got up. It was Saturday afternoon, and the sun had already begun to set. After a quick shower, I felt a lot better. I stood under the hot water and remembered what happened the previous night.
Had I really done that? Had I stripped down to my stockings in front of a stranger I couldn't even see? Had I touched myself while some anonymous mystery person had watched?
But as I stood there, the hot water flowing over my curves, like your eyes did the night before, a strange feeling came over me. I wasn't even embarrassed, and I had masturbated in front of a complete stranger. I just smiled, and thought to myself hell, it's my house, I'll do what I want to inside.
Besides, I had enjoyed showing myself off to you, and where's the shame in that? When I eventually opened the front door, leaving to get some groceries for the weekend, I almost tripped over your gift. Did I like it? I loved it! All wrapped up in red paper and ribbons, like it was my birthday. But I didn't open it until I got home. It was just too enticing. I knew it was from you - who else would have left a mystery present, other than a mystery neighbour?
When I opened it, it was already dark outside. I rushed to my bedroom and set it up in the window. Just like yours. And, seemingly, I was just in time. There you were, a tall dark handsome stranger. I felt a twinge between my legs the first time I laid eyes on you. I watched you with my lights on - better than how you did the night before. Were you afraid? Afraid I might think you were creepy? I'd never think that - not when I needed you so much. You took a quick look in your own telescope, and I waved, feeling a little mischievous. You waved back, then blew me a kiss.
And then you danced for me, and you didn't face a mirror as those clothes came off one by one. As your shirt came off, I gave in to temptation, and my hands quietly ventured under my skirt. You have an incredible body, that first time seeing you like that - my panties were soaking before my fingers even touched them.
