The Day She Saw Him

It was growing late, and he had homework to do. But he had deliberately left his backpack in his car again.

He watched out his window; the parking lot outside his apartment was small and secluded, and currently it held only his car. The time to go to it and retrieve his books would come soon; he knew the schedule, had learned it from many other nights like this. He glanced at the green LEDs of the clock on his VCR. Just about now, in fact—

Yes! There it was, that pool of light cast by the headlights of a car, gradually filling the small parking lot. Seconds later, the all-too-familiar shape of the white car appeared; it turned, momentarily blinding him with the glare of its lights, and parked, one space away from his car. The door on its driver's side opened, and she emerged.

His heartbeat quickening, he counted slowly to five, then opened his apartment door and stepped out and walked to his car.

It was late in the fall; a moderately strong cool wind was blowing. The sound of the wind and the rustling of the dying leaves on the trees, coupled with the occasional distant car on the highway, filled his ears. It gave a lonely feeling to the scene; though he watched her as he walked, it felt as though he were the only person in the world.

Her dark hair was straight and loose today, barely brushing her shoulders as it danced lazily in the wind. She was wearing a plain brown shirt, its tight fit emphasizing her breasts, a pair of sandals, and a pair of capri jeans, also tight around her slender thighs and ass, suggestive of the perfect shape of both. Her exposed calves were a light brown, which he supposed was her natural skin color; she appeared to be Hispanic. A black handbag was carelessly slung across her shoulder; although it was not a large bag, she walked as if burdened by the weight of it. Her eyes remained on the ground as she walked to the door of the apartment next to his; she had a face that looked made for smiling, but there was no trace of a smile on her.

Please look up, he pleaded silently.Please, just this once, look at me. He could not remember any time she had ever looked at him. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at about this time, she returned from wherever she went during the day, always with that same weariness about her. He wondered what caused it—a tedious class? A crappy service industry job? She gave no hint; she carried no books, wore no uniform, gave no sign save her downcast eyes and the weariness of her posture.Just one instant, just one glance—that's all I need. One instant of eye contact, and he could smile at her, wave, say hello, ask her about her day, ask her all the things about her life he had always wondered. Everything would be possible, if only she would look at him.

He opened his car and groped around for his bag, not wanting to shift his attention from her, fearful of missing the tiniest flicker of her eyes in his direction. She had arrived at her door. He held his breath; only a few moments remained before today's opportunity fell with all the others into the abyss of the past.Please look at me, he pleaded.Please.

The moment passed. She opened her door and stepped inside, not looking at him.

He sighed, slammed his car door shut, and returned slowly to his small apartment.

It was a cheap studio apartment, a single area serving as living room, dining room, and bedroom. He dropped his bag on the tiny single bed and collapsed beside it, reflecting on the mystery of her, unable to even think about homework now.

He could see his reflection in the bathroom mirror from here. His was still a young face, topped by close-cropped black hair. He had recently started wearing contacts, which seemed to have made a definite improvement in the shape of his face. His skin was still pale; he had intended all summer to spend some time by the pool, but never had. He frowned and stripped off his shirt and inspected his chest; he was still far from the ideal physique, but he had started a workout program the previous year, and the results were at least beginning to show. He wasn't unattractive, he thought, not so much as he had been back in high school at least; surely that couldn't be the reason she never looked at him. He thought he almost had himself convinced of that.

He reached up and turned off the light, so that no one would be able to see in the single window, and pulled off the rest of his clothing. Naked, he began to stroke his skin, imagining it was her hands touching him, wishing it was her body his hands touched. He felt guilty to do this, to use the thought of her in this way, but what choice did he have? The pleasure of autoeroticism was the nearest thing he had to the sublime feeling of being with her in fact.

He jumped at the sudden sound of a door closing outside. He looked out the window, and there she was again, walking out to her car. She had changed her clothes; she now wore a sleeveless top of flowing brown fabric, cut low to display a generous amount of her cleavage, and a short white pleated skirt. He stared, open-mouthed, at nearly the entire length of her beautiful brown legs, broken only at the ankle by the elaborate gold straps of her open-toed and heeled shoes. She was clearly dressed for a night out; she even walked straighter now, her steps perhaps buoyed by the thought of a fun night of friends, music, dancing, and drinking.

She was walking quickly. He barely had time to think; he only knew that he could not bear to let another chance pass him by tonight. She reached her car and opened the rear door, bending over to rummage around inside. A desperate idea, born of intoxicating arousal and panic, formed in his mind. He was vaguely aware of standing up, running to the door, throwing it open.

The cool air struck his still-naked body, and he gasped as the wind moved over his chest and between his legs, caressing every inch of his completely exposed skin. Not giving himself time to think or be afraid, he left the door open and ran, ran across the parking lot, the rough asphalt cutting into his bare feet. He felt the unfamiliar sensation of his penis bouncing, limply and almost comically at first, but growing firmer by the step. He reached the trees on the other side. Panting, trembling with the cold and with nervous exhilaration, he looked back across the parking lot.

And yet, impossibly, she wasn't looking, her head still buried in the back seat of the car. He was totally naked outside, right in front of her, and shestill wasn't looking! The adrenaline was wearing off slightly, giving way to fear; he wanted to be back inside quickly, before anyone else caught him naked, but he couldn't bear the thought that he might be inside again before she even looked up from whatever she was doing in her car.

"Woooo!" he shouted, before he could think better of it. She jumped, startled, and stood up. And looked at him.

He whooped again and began running, feeling her gaze on him at last. She was laughing; he heard her exclaim, "Oh my God!" He reached his door and ducked inside, heard her call from behind him, "Hey naked guy, wait up!" Using the door to shield himself, he peered out, and she was running towards his door, carefully in her heels, but smiling, that beautiful, long-awaited smile that belonged on her face. His heart beat frantically. She had seen him at last, and she was coming towards him.

She arrived outside his door. "Hi," she said.

"Hi," he replied dumbly.

She said nothing for a moment, and suddenly started laughing again. She planted her foot on the door and pushed at it, tilting her head playfully as though to peer around it. He stepped out of the way, allowing her to push the door open, and stood completely exposed to her. She laughed even harder, eyeing his body deliberately; he wondered if she could tell that her gaze was making his penis even more rigid. "You're so crazy," she said.

He laughed too then, feeling the tension begin to leave him; there was no need for fear here, only relief, only the playful humor of the situation and this incredible sense of arousal. He spread his arms and turned around slowly, letting her see him from every angle; she whistled appreciatively, and he laughed again.

"So what's your name?" she asked.

"John," he said. His voice came out rough and cracked; he cleared his throat and repeated, more evenly, "I'm John."

Smiling, she said, "I'm Marisa, and it is nice to finally meet you, neighbor." She extended a hand and he shook it. Her eyes moved downward again. "And it's nice to meet you too," she said, taking hold of his penis and moving it up and down in a mock handshake. He inhaled sharply at her touch, and was within instants of exploding in her hand when she released him. She raised her eyes to meet his and smiled. "Wow, you must be really turned on by this," she commented.

"Yeah," he confessed. God, she had beautiful eyes, a brilliant green that he had never been near enough to her to notice previously.

"Hey, turn around again?" she suggested. He complied, and jumped as he felt a light slap on his butt cheek. "Nice ass," she said from behind him. Her fingers squeezed his cheek, and then pressed lightly on his hip, turning him back to face her. "Well, John, I'm on my way out to meet some friends right now, but it wasreallynice seeing you tonight." She winked. "And I hope to 'see' you again soon."

"Yeah," he said. "Likewise."

Smiling, she stepped towards him, the fabric of her garments just barely touching his skin. She let her hand rest on her chest for a moment and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "Bye," she said, stepping back. She turned to walk towards her car, giving him a last teasing look over her shoulder.

He closed the door and collapsed on his bed, the pressure of the cloth sheets triggering an immediate orgasm of incredible intensity. He let it wash over him, gasping, and in its aftermath looked up to watch out the window as her car pulled away, scarcely able to believe what had just happened, and filled with a sense of wonder at all the possibilities the future suddenly held.