The weird thing was I'd never taken the slightest bit of notice of my neighbours. For one thing, it was a shared house so there were probably people coming and going all the time. And for another thing, I didn't have time. Working all day, coming home knackered -- I wasn't about to pop round with homemade jam and try to make friends.
It was only when I was at home with my baby, my beautiful son Connor, that I actually had time to look out of the window and see what the neighbours were up to.
Even then, I probably wouldn't have paid the slightest bit of attention had it not been for a particularly difficult morning.
I'd argued with James just before he'd left for work and then Connor had been a nightmare to settle. I'd finally managed it and had sneaked next door into our own bedroom, intending to grab some washing to put into the machine.
I walked idly over to the window and leaned my head against the frame, closing my eyes for a moment.
This stay-at-home mum business was bloody hard work. I actually wished I could be back at work, with an ordered to do list and people to delegate to. I felt tears prick at my eyeballs and then immediately became angry at myself. It was just looking after a baby for God's sake, I told myself furiously. Women had done it for centuries -- my own mother had stayed at home with three kids.
I opened my eyes and looked blankly at the view, my thoughts still churning. The bedroom overlooked the back of our Victorian terraced house. I could see the side passage running alongside the fence that separated our garden from the neighbours'. On their side, I could see their matching side passage and the window to what was probably their kitchen.
I looked at the mass of broken plastic chairs in their garden, different from our own al fresco dining table and realised I'd never really looked out of the bedroom window before. There had never been any time. The only time I was in this room I was either rushing to leave it in the morning or collapsing into the bed late at night.
As I looked out of the window, I saw a movement in the kitchen. From my vantage point, I could see about half of a kitchen table and the work surface running underneath the window.
There was a dark-haired girl in the kitchen, sitting at the table eating toast. It was half eleven in the morning and I wondered whether she had a job that meant working odd hours.
She was dressed very glamorously for eating toast. She was wearing a well-fitting, 1950s-style tea dress that was red with a white polka dot pattern and bright red lipstick. I instinctively glanced down at my own clothes -- faded, baggy jeans and a woolly jumper with holes at the elbows.
She must have time on her hands, I thought enviously. She seemed to be enjoying her toast as well. She was taking large bites into the bread and licking the butter from her red lips with obvious relish.
I suddenly realised that if she looked up, she would be able to see me. I stood back from the window and was brought back to the reality of my own life. I didn't have time to spy on the neighbours -- there was washing to do.
I spent my afternoon doing household chores and then took Connor to the swings. I put him down for a nap when I got back and then contemplated the stack of unopened post that I had to deal with. I grabbed the pile and took it upstairs with me. I might as well lie comfortably on the bed whilst reading the bills, I thought. And I would be close by to Connor if he woke.
I settled myself on the bed and worked through the mortgage statements and credit card bills. My attention began to wonder and I sat up and pulled back the net curtain to look out of the window.
I don't know if I was even thinking about the girl in the polka dot dress or not. I just wanted to break to monotony of the day. I was completely unprepared for the sight before me.
The girl was bent over the kitchen table, her red polka dot dress bunched up around her waist, exposing her white bottom. There was a man fucking her from behind. I couldn't see anything of him except his hips and arse, moving rhythmically back and forth as he gripped her hips.
I gaped in amazement, the stack of bills completely forgotten. My first thought was 'but it's the middle of the afternoon!' as if it was absurd that anyone could possibly be having sex at such a time.
I was about to draw back from the window when the girl raised her head from the table. She looked back over her shoulder at her partner, her dark hair slightly tousled but her bright red lipstick still perfectly in place.
She didn't look as if she was enjoying the sex -- in fact she looked positively pissed off. She began saying something to the man, her thin brows drawn together in a frown. The man stopped his thrusting.
She was actually having a go at him, right in the middle of it all! I watched her face spit out angry words to the man and I felt a distinct twinge in my loins. She turned her face back to the table and the bloke resumed his thrusting, but at a slower and more measured pace.
I dropped the curtain and sat back against the pillows, completely flabbergasted. I couldn't take it in -- it all seemed so incongruous in our quiet, middle class street, in the middle of a sleepy weekday afternoon.
I could feel the wetness in my knickers and thought about how long it had been since I had last felt aroused. Me and James still did it occasionally but it was mainly for his benefit -- to give him a quick release when he had a hard on. We hadn't properly had sex for almost eight months now. And we had certainly never done it like that on the kitchen table.
But it wasn't the kitchen table that had turned me on. It was the way the girl had ordered her lover about. I smiled to myself, pleased to have something else to think about that wasn't housework or Connor-related.
As if on cue, Connor woke up and began to cry.
For the next few days, I was kept busy with play dates and the never ending washing, ironing and cooking that had to be done. But I kept returning to the image in my mind -- the girl with a cock inside her, imperiously commanding her lover with a raised eyebrow. Summoning that image into my mind made me instantly wet.
I peeped out of the window at least twenty times a day but didn't see anything. In the mornings I would glimpse the other housemates in the kitchen, making tea, eating breakfast but I didn't spot polka dot dress girl.
