He had watched ever since she moved in 8 months ago - a young professional, neatly dressed but awkward and studious in appearance. Her hair was shoulder-length and dark. He'd seen her on her way to work each morning - attaché case in one hand, a bagged lunch in the other. She always left at the same time 8:45 AM and was never late. Her body was hidden behind her conservative dress - business suits or slacks and a soft-colored blouse, her face adorned with black-framed glasses. He marveled at her seeming togetherness - the way she walked so confidently, with a crisp and measured pace.
Her outward demeanor was in sharp contrast to the display he sometimes spied from their facing apartment windows. While she was mostly very careful to close the blinds before she climbed into bed, there had been times in the past months, when she left them open slightly to where he could spy, slightly, her naked body moving rhythmically. Sometimes, he could hear her gasps and moaning as the movement became faster, followed by the stillness of her resting.
In the ninth month of their being neighbors, he began to notice that she was not leaving for work at her usual time anymore. He wondered if she might be ill. One afternoon, he ran into her at the mailboxes after several days of not seeing her in the morning.
"Hello, I'm Andrew," he spoke to her from behind.
She jumped as she had not heard him approach. "Oh!," she said, "Hello..." He moved very close to her, leaving only inches between them. His proximity was unnerving and she couldn't think of how to respond. She chose not to, and instead, she collected herself and her mail, then, keeping her eyes on the ground, she began to step around him.
She was visibly nervous and seemed a bit scattered. She was wearing shorts, now, and a tight t-shirt with no bra. She was a bit chubby, but had strong looking legs and a round ass. He noticed her nipples pressing through the thin fabric and recalled the movement of her naked body as he had sometimes spied it from his window.
He stepped in front of her to block her escape. "I believe we're neighbors," he said, and then glancing at the name plate on her mailbox added, "You're 'Carla,' right?"
Startled, she moved her eyes now up from the ground and glanced into his. "Yes... yes," and then looking a bit bewildered she asked, "How did you know?"
He smiled at her adolescent awkwardness - the woman who walked with such confidence was actually, at least on a personal level, quite docile. He pulled his hand from his pocket then and purposely brushed one of her nipples with the back of it, as he then continued his movement until his finger was pointing past her shoulder and replied, "Your name plate."
The slight touch had jolted her. She was unsure if it was intentional and debated protesting his obviously skewed idea of personal space, but when she looked into his eyes, she saw a sternness there that she was unsure she wanted to challenge. The way his eyes burned into hers, she felt a bit like a sheep in a hungry wolf's path and she did not want to be eaten. She could not find it in herself to speak and she stared back at him, dumbly.
"I've seen you around," he said, noticing how stunned she seemed by his forward insinuation. He knew this type of woman - controlled and severe in her public life, and all the while, feeling a need to surrender. He could see that she wanted something he could give, but would be unable to ask for unless persuaded. "You haven't been leaving at your usual time," he continued, never taking his eyes from hers, "Have you been ill?"
She could not take her eyes from his as he stared, it seemed, right into her soul. She began to speak, but found that she had a frog in her throat. "Err.. Uh... Um..." she stammered. He grinned at her inability to speak and this interruption of intensity jolted her from his spell momentarily. "No," she answered, drawing on the confidence she usually projected. "I'm actually not working right now. You know - corporate downsizing," she explained, "but I am quite confident I will find something else soon."
He was astonished at how quickly her persona changed - one minute she was a bumbling teenager, and the next, a fully articulate young professional. Her duplicity betrayed her hidden desires in his mind - he understood this dichotomy well - here was a young woman who was struggling with her inner fantasies, which did not match her outward persona. As with the old cliché about Catholic schoolgirls ending up to be the sluttiest of young women due to the years of repressed sexuality they endured in school, this young woman was clearly hiding or suppressing something beneath her conventional lifestyle.
"I see. Well - it happens. " he answered casually, and then added, "You now, our bedroom windows face one another. We are a lot closer neighbors than you maybe realize."
She blushed at this information. She was quite aware that there had been times when, in the frenzy of her sexual play, she had forgotten to close the blind for that window tightly. While she had never noticed anyone watching, she knew it had been a possibility. She had always hoped that some near-sighted old woman lived in the neighboring bedroom apartment - someone non-threatening who would either not see her sometimes fantastic masturbation skits, or who would not care to. She was very careful, usually, to keep her desires hidden from the outside world. As she lived alone, she felt quite free to express them in the privacy of her abode, but often was somewhat disgusted with herself when she imagined what most peoples' reactions might be to her sometimes animalistic desires.
Her eyes shifted from the right to the left of his face as she attempted to disguise the horror she felt. If he had peeked in at the wrong time, he might have spied her - headphones on, listening to erotic audio stories, and acting out what she heard. She would have appeared face down, her head resting on top of her folded arm, with a pair of men's underwear in her mouth - her bare ass waving slightly as she used her other hand to vigorously rub her clitoris. If she had left the window opened slightly, he might have heard her answering her imaginary dominator, "Yes... I deserve to have your cock up my ass... Please put your cock up my ass..."
He knew what she must be thinking of, though he had not seen or heard her in the detail she was now imagining. He simply thought that she must be worried that he heard her when she brought herself to orgasm, but he sensed that there may be something more to her embarrassment. He decided not to allow her what he saw and heard, and instead said, quietly yet sternly, "Don't worry. Your secrets are safe with me."
Her face was now a bright red as she searched for a reply. This man's approach frightened her and the mail she held in her hand betrayed her trembling as it emphasized her movement. She was fairly inexperienced with men only having had a few boyfriends in high school. The lifestyle she led in her adulthood kept her from pursuing her fantasies, but now that she wasn't working, she had been left with much idle time to develop them and experiment with them. Those were fantasies, though, and this was a real man - a man who had the balls to come forward and force his acquaintance, not to mention to make his view of her bedroom clear to her. Her desire and outward façade were now clashing as she considered what he might know from watching her. The outward part of her wanted to tell this man he was disgusting and threaten to call the police if he were watching her without her knowledge. As she looked back into his unfaltering eyes, however, she felt her hidden sexual desires igniting - could this be the man who would bring her sick fantasies to life?
The thoughts and feelings were overwhelming her and she broke his gaze and began to walk around him again in an attempt to escape what she was confronted with. He stepped in front of her once more, startling her and forcing her to again look at his face. "I'm sorry, Carla," he said, "but if you're not busy, I'd like you to come over to my apartment. You see, I may have some work for you. Stop by after you drop your mail off at home and we'll discuss it over a cup of coffee."
He said it so coolly and didn't pose it as a question. He told her to stop by. She thought she would soon break down if this man didn't allow her to leave now, and not knowing whether she would comply, she managed to stammer out, "OK, Andrew. I'll do that," and finally stepped around him to return to her flat.
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Carla let her tense body relax onto her sofa as she considered the unusual meeting with her neighbor. She was sure he must have seen her - perhaps when she pushed her long, fat dildo between her legs, her panties around her knees, as she cried out, ""Yesss... Pull down my panties...and...fffuck me."
While the prospect of there being a man who would understand her dark desires without her having to tell him excited her greatly, the idea of making these fantasies real frightened her very much. In her fantasies of being controlled, she was always ultimately in control of the fantasy. If she were to cross the line in real life, she would be giving up all control to a man who would use her and humiliate her in a multitude of ways and she could not simply stop it if it became too much for her.
As she sat there for some time, considering the possibilities, she heard a knock on her door. "Carla," she heard Andrew call to her, "Open the door!"
She felt a twinge in her stomach - whether it was fear or excitement or both, she could not decide. He was not asking if he could come in, he was again directing her - now, to open the door. She felt hesitation and thought to herself that she should not listen to Andrew, but even as she thought this, she moved to the door, unlocked it and then opened it.
He stood before her with an agitated look on his face. He asked her tersely, "What is taking so long? I thought I told you to come over after you set down your mail. Isn't that what I said?"
Her eyes widened as she witnessed his slow transformation from quietly assertive and insinuating to commanding and angry. She opened her lips to speak after a brief silence, but as she gathered her reply, he interrupted.
"Isn't that what I said?!" he asked more loudly. "Answer me!"
"Um.. Uh... Y-Yes," she answered. She felt herself beginning to want to dance to his rhythm. He was displaying the attitude she always fantasized about but never was sure she could handle in real life and now, she seemed to not be able to help but slip into its compliment. She felt herself begin to shrink as his snarling words fell down on her.
He saw her becoming what she knew she was. He watched as she glanced back and forth from his feet to his eyes and felt his penis reacting to the meekness that was written more and more clearly on her face. He pushed himself into her apartment then and closed and locked the door behind him.
She stumbled backward as he pushed her out of the way, her eyes now wide with fear, her mouth hanging open in surprise.
His face was emotionless as he observed her fright, while all the time, he could feel his own desire growing. He walked silently around her and took a seat on her couch. She stayed in her place there by the door - staring at the doorknob. She knew she should simply unlock the door, open it, and leave. She was decent girl - a good girl. This was not how she lived her life.
He watched her as she thought, reading her face - recognizing the apprehension. "Are you going somewhere?" he asked.
She snapped out of her meditation, suddenly more aware of what was really happening, "Um... Well... I.. uh... I'm not..."
"Please stop mumbling, Carla." he interrupted. "If you're not going anywhere then come here and sit down across from me. I want to speak with you about some things."
