When I was writing the window stories I was writing three different stories. I wanted to mash them all together, but the third window took a different path. This story has differences from book one, although it still revolves around Sean and Sylvia moving in to their house, and being watched from a third window. It is set in the late 60's early 70's.
Sylvia
..........................
I am sat on my husband's lap in the front of the van. The gear stick which comes up from the floor is between my legs. I've lost count of the times Gerry the driver, has changed gear and felt my thigh. Sean my husband is chatting to Jake, who is sat on the other side by the passenger door. I sit there in my brown suede miniskirt, feeling Gerry's knuckles rub the underside of my thigh, down out of sight of my husband.
Gerry strokes gently, as I look straight ahead out of the windscreen. We're all bunched up, with a van full of stuff to move into our council house. I stand up to let Sean slide out of the passenger seat. He jumps out, and Gerry whispers to me.
"Good job I didn't stand on the brake pedal too hard Sylvia, you might have done yourself a mischief on the gear stick."
I give the smiling Gerry a little embarrassed look, which he laps up.
After half an hour of unloading boxes from the van, Sean passes the beers round from the wooden crate. He tells me to nip to the chip shop, for him and his friends who helped us move.
I've been watching this woman as she stands in the queue in my fish and chip shop. She stands quietly on her own after placing her order. She's got a look like Liz Taylor, black hair with curls here and there, and it is shoulder length, I bet her old man hangs on those locks when he's drilling her.
She is nice and slim, and stands still with her long legs together, and strikes me as the sort of bird who does as she's told. I glance at the two women in their 50's looking her up and down. The women leave, giving her a last disapproving look.
"Don't worry about them love, they are still living in Victorian times," I say, looking down at her long legs sticking out of her miniskirt.
She smiles shyly, as I hand her the fish and chips wrapped in newspaper. I lean on the counter and watch her ass sway in a brown suede miniskirt, as she walks to the door.
Juggling her purse, and four lots of fish and chips she can't pull the door open. I step out from behind the counter and put my hand on hers, and yank the door open.
"It's a bit stiff my love," I say, with grinning eyes.
She mumbles a thank you, as she squeezes past me, well I'm not moving. She gives me a little embarrassed knowing look, and goes on her way, no doubt feeling the grease of the fish and chips, which had transferred from my hand, to hers. A car horn sounds as she waits to cross the road. The guy in the passenger seat leans out of the window, and says something as they pass her. She ignores them and crosses the road.
They drive off laughing, after asking me if I'd like a lift, because they wouldn't want my fish and chips getting cold. The guy in the passenger seat said, he had something else he would like me to keep warm. He winked and blew me a kiss.
I can still feel where the man in the chip shop put his hand on mine. He didn't move when I went passed him, and his fat belly rubbed against me.
"I don't know where the plates are," I say, flipping open another box.
"Don't worry we'll eat it out of the newspaper."
I watch Gerry as he shoves the battered fish in his mouth. He bites and then chews it, talking at the same time about how nice the house will look when it's decorated.
"What are we going to do with all the boxes when they are empty?" I ask.
"Stick them in the loft. You'll need them when you realise you should have married me, and you leave Smithy."
Everyone laughs, and my husband tells Gerry he couldn't keep up with me in the sack.
Gerry looks at me, and I can see he's amused by what Sean joked about, but underneath I'm sure he is thinking about giving it a go.
As I go past my husband carrying the rolled up fish and chip paper, Sean pulls my hip to him as he sits in the chair. His hand is on the back of my thigh, and he tells the men I'm too young for them, and I only have eyes for him. They laugh, but even now I can see Gerry still wondering about me in bed.
I carry a box up the stairs knowing Jake is down the bottom of the stairs looking up my skirt. When I reach the top I stop and look back down at him. I know he's seen my green panties under my tights, and I can see the shifty look in his eyes.
"Could you bring the white box up for me?" I ask.
I'm bent across the bed, smoothing out the quilt when Jake comes in.
She must know I'm stood behind her, but she messes about with the bed cover stretched right across it. I couldn't really see what colour her knickers were, the light from the window on the landing shone too brightly, but now I can see they are green. I watch her thigh muscles tighten as she stretches further. She must fucking know she is flashing it all.
She stands up and turns round, there's that fucking look on her face again. Like she is totally unaware for the last couple of minutes, she's been showing her knickers off. I wonder if she is that naive that she thinks I looked away, or I would never dream of standing there, right behind her, taking in the view of the green panties and tan tights stretched across her ass. No she knows alright. She's a prick tease, although she would deny it.
I put the box down on the dressing table. For a split second I think about shoving her on the bed and ripping those knickers and tights off, and just having her. Sean's a lucky bastard having her for a wife. Oh he moans about her in the pub, never having sucked him, and then downstairs just now, he comes out with how we couldn't keep up with her in bed.
I could fuck things right up for him, and tell her about Sean getting blow jobs from the tart Vicky, out the back of the pub, but no, I keep my mouth shut, about the old bag who is in her late 40's, because she has sucked me a few times. All our wives think Vic is a mate down the pub. Sean is into Vic, and you can't go wrong for a couple of quid for a BJ. Sean goes there quite a bit, and now he's moved nearer the pub, he won't be able to stay away. Poor Sylvia, but I'd have his wife, and I'm going to one day, and I'll get that blow job her husband doesn't, one way or another. I watch her flip the lid off the box which I carried up. She reaches in and pulls out a mass of colour. It's her bloody underwear that she had me carry up the stairs in the box. I step out of the bedroom, with the image of her green knickers tattooed in my brain, before I lose the plot and jump her.
The Third Window
I watched them move in a few days ago, and now with her husband at work I assume, I knock on the door. I smile at her and offer the woman in front of me a pot containing a plant. I take off my brown trilby hat.
"My name is Ronald Smith, I live next door. I saw you moving in the other day, and thought I'd welcome you to the area. Is the man of the house at home?"
"No, he's at work, I'm Sylvia Smith, pleased to meet you, it seems we share the same surname."
She smiles at me, as I tell her Smith is very common. A shrilling whistle from the kitchen hits our ears.
"Oh it sounds like the kettle is boiling, Sylvia. I guess I picked the right time to turn up?" I say cheekily.
"Would you?" she starts.
"Love to my dear. There's nothing better than having a nice cup of tea to help us get acquainted."
She smiles politely, probably hoping I would refuse. Not on your life Sylvia am I going to turn down the chance to get up close. She turns and leads me in.
I take in the purple strap of her bra, underneath a thin white blouse. How I would love to reach out and unclip that bra. My eyes travel down to the flared black miniskirt she is wearing, and the backs of her thighs, covered in the sheen of her brown coloured tights. Her ankles look immaculate, slim, and so ripe for kissing. She wears red mule type slippers, with a red fluffy band over the top of her foot. The slippers have seen better days, but I love hearing the sound of the slipper, slapping the on the sole of her foot as she walks.
I watched her when she got out of the van a couple of days ago with a few men. I was looking out of my window as the van turned up, from that moment I felt mesmerised by the beauty moving in next door. She carried lighter things into the house, unaware that only a few yards away, from behind my net curtain, I was gently and slowly tugging my erection, thanking the gods that my new neighbour, isn't a fat ugly women like the last one had been. Two of the men who helped them move looked her way. They made rude gestures to each other, about the gorgeous young female behind her back, as she bent over picking things up, and no doubt giving them a flash of her panties.
I watch her now getting the tea ready, amongst the mess of boxes in various stages of being unpacked. I could watch her all day, her little feminine movements attracts me even more close up. I watch her stretch up to the cupboard. Her hemline rises, and there for a couple of seconds, I'm treated to sight the control tops of her tights. As she turns round I have to physically stop the lust filled expression, which I know is on my face, before she catches me.
We sit at the kitchen table and talk, well I talk and Sylvia listens. She is quite shy which adds to her appeal for me. She tells me she wanted to be a policewoman, but she doesn't have the brains. She is polite, and sits there seeming to be interested in what I tell her. I am happily surprised that she asks little questions about my love of cactus plants. I'm a teacher, and used to talking, although after half an hour, she is probably bored of listening to my life story, but bless her she is too polite to let it show. It would appear to my delight that this woman, with her pretty green eyes and jet black hair, has been brought up properly.
I decide to excuse myself, because I don't want her thinking I am an annoying old man, besides, I've spotted the pile of washing to my right, and sticking out just under the top is her green cotton panties. One day I shall get her into something silky, but those are hers, and have been against her cunt. She gets up and walks to the sink, giving me time to nimbly grab her panties, and stuff them in my pocket.
"What's that?"
"Oh a neighbour brought it round, a welcoming gift."
"Christ, look at the bloody thing. Who in their right mind gives someone a cactus plant?"
"Sean, it was nice of him."
"Him, you mean a man brought it round?"
"Yeah the old man next door gave it to us. The one you said was hiding behind his curtain when we moved in."
"What that creepy lecherous old git?"
"Sean, he's a teacher in the grammar school for boys. I think he's just a little lonely."
