Twelve Months Pt. 01

It all started on a placid evening in early June, and all because of my rather pathetic lack of willpower. My wife Cassie had never smoked, and although she'd put up with my habit when we were dating, since we got married she'd persuaded me to only smoke outside of our new house twice a day, first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Now she was pregnant I'd agreed that even that wasn't enough and she'd insisted that I promise to give up completely. She was right of course, but I was already feeling a little panicky at the thought of giving up something that I'd been doing compulsively since I was twelve.

So you find me here in the back garden, enjoying the quiet darkness as I suck on my cigarette, savouring the comforting, familiar feeling of warm smoke filling my lungs. I've tried nicotine patches, and chewing gum and vaping but it just isn't the same. I know it's a disgusting habit and yes, I'll probably die of lung cancer before I'm fifty, but I'm reassured by the fact that I've now promised Cassie to quit and I know she's a strong enough character to hold me to that.

I inhale deeply. The hazy sunshine of this warm early summer day had given way to a humid night, perfectly quiet apart from the yap of a dog echoing around the neighbourhood and the distant buzz of traffic from the main road.

I loved this time of day, just after the sun had set but day hadn't completely given way to night and it was still pleasantly warm. It was much quieter here than in our old neighbourhood, and this was the time of day when I could truly forget the stresses of my IT job and relax, watching the lazy curls of blue-grey smoke curling upwards and dissolving into the still air, pinpricks of stars just starting to appear above.

As I smoked I watched the sky change from pale blue to lavender. I could see a sliver of silvery flickering light through a gap in our curtain; I'd left Cassie inside watching some period drama that I had found difficult to get into. My cigarette was halfway through when I saw the light come on upstairs in our neighbours house. I'd often seen Madelaine gardening, usually in a big floppy sun hat, cutoffs and pastel-coloured gloves. She was a tall, well-spoken lady with good posture and a glossy mane of auburn hair. She always looked smart and well-dressed; even when she was gardening I couldn't help noticing how neat she looked in her carefully coordinated leisurewear. She had a nineteen year old daughter so I guess she must have been in her mid forties but she certainly looked younger.

I'd not really spoken to her beyond some casual chat about the weather. I'd seen Cassie talking to her a few times over the garden fence though, complimenting her on the colourful display in her garden and I was aware they'd become quite friendly having gone to the same yoga and self defence classes at the local village hall. Cassie said that she was divorced and had been born in Singapore but had moved here when she was five.

I knew I shouldn't, but I found myself watching as she moved around what I guessed was her bedroom. The room has full-length glass doors which opened onto a small 'juliet' balcony, so I had a good view. It looked like she was getting some clothes out of her wardrobe, laying them on her bed. And then, she started undressing. I glanced at my watch, it was only eight-thirty, surely too early for bed, I thought.

I watched, holding my breath and swaying slightly in the semi-darkness as she unbuttoned her pale blue shirt and shrugged it from her smooth shoulders. Her house was angled slightly away from ours and my view was slightly from the side. She had a great body, and even from a distance I couldn't help staring at the plump swell of her boobs encased in a silky white brassiere.

Of course, I knew I should look away, I knew I was invading her privacy but I was only human and surely it wasn't doing any harm I reasoned. I found myself crouching a little, slipping into the shadows behind the fence and tucking my cigarette behind my back as she unbuttoned her well-worn jeans and with a brief wriggle of her hips, eased them down over her creamy thighs.

For some reason, she'd only turned on the bedside light, not the main overhead light. The subdued, angled lighting was perfect, the soft amber glow casting her in half-shadow emphasizing all the deliciously feminine curves of her semi-nakedness. Somehow I always find that an attractive woman wearing skimpy lingerie is even more sexy than when they're naked.

I did feel a little guilty, but I easily convinced myself that if she really didn't want to be watched she would have drawn her curtains, right? I mean, who knows, perhaps she was an exhibitionist, perhaps she got off on this kind of thing. She certainly had a body that was worthy of spying on I thought as I took in the womanly roundness of her hips, the firm-looking curves of her bottom, her long, smooth legs.

As I wrestled with my morality, Madelaine bent at the waist giving me a great view of her delicious arse as she carefully stepped into a floral dress, easing it up over her thighs, and slipping her arms through the thin straps. There must have been a full-length mirror just out of my view I figured, as I watched her reach behind and zip up the back then twist left and right, her fingers plucking at the thin cotton as she checked how it looked on her. It looked pretty good to me, emphasizing those lovely curves in all the right places.

I watched as she held her mobile at arms length and snapped a few selfies. Was she sending pictures to a boyfriend or lover? Perhaps she was just asking a friend or sister how she looked in the dress, whether she should keep it or send it back.

And then, she stepped away from the window, the light went out and I knew that the show was over as quickly as it had started, leaving me with only a series of hot images burned on my mind and a slightly guilty conscience.

--

"So," I said casually as I lent on the breakfast bar the next morning and munched a slice of brown toast, "You know now it's getting warmer, I was thinking we could invite the neighbours round for a barbecue, you know get to know them a little."

"Sure," Cassie said as she closed the fridge door. "I'm sure the Johnsons would love that, we said we'd have them round to have a look at the new kitchen."

She ran a hand under the roundness of her belly as she sat down at the kitchen table and started tucking into a healthy-looking bowl of granola. She was five months pregnant and now her bulge was really beginning to show, although she was the type of woman who despite my concerns was determined to keep working up to the last minute.

"And what about Madelaine? Do you think she'd be up for it?"

"Oh, I guess. Yes, we should definitely invite her although she doesn't strike me as the barbeque type."

"She lives alone, right? Her daughter's away at uni?"

"Yeah, she told me she's divorced. I think it was a while ago, she said she'd brought up her daughter pretty much on her own. Why?"

"Oh, no reason," I said, avoiding her gaze. "Just thinking of numbers."

--

After that first night, I made sure I went out at the same time, and sometimes I was lucky enough to catch teasing glimpses of her but I didn't get a proper view of her undressing again until a month later.

Cassie was on duty that night. She was a nurse, working in A and E, which meant that she often worked the night shift, leaving me to fend for myself. Since she became pregnant they'd put her on desk duty but I know she still found it very tiring, and would flop into bed exhausted in the early hours of the morning complaining about her swollen feet.

Without Cassie, I was able to step out into the back garden without feeling too guilty about my little habit. It was a little fresher this evening, and I shivered a little as a cool breeze plucked at my shirt and made a soft rushing sound as it rustled the leaves of the trees in the bottom corner of our garden.

I can't deny feeling a rush of excitement when I saw the light come on. I stubbed out my fag, grinding it into the turf and pressed myself up against the fence. I zipped up my dark lightweight fleece and quietly stepped into the shadowy bushes that lined our side of the fence. As she moved around the room, again taking clothes from her closet and arranging them on the bed, I briefly thought about going back inside to get my binoculars. I quickly dismissed it though, it was a step too far. If someone caught me now, I could reasonably say that I was just out having a smoke and just happened to be looking in the direction of Madeleine's bedroom window but if I had binoculars it would be harder to deny spying on her. What next, a camera with a telephoto lens? No, I had to keep it simple and deniable, although I wished I could get a better view.

It was risky but I tried moving a little closer, one step at a time, holding my breath all the way. A moth drawn to her bedroom light. I paused to watch Madelaine cross her arms across her chest and slide her pink t-shirt up over her head. Without the cigarette, I could smell the sweetly distinctive scent of the honeysuckle climbing up her side of the fence as I pressed even closer.

"Yes," I muttered as she ran a hand through her copper-coloured hair, sweeping it from her face. Even though I wasn't that much closer, I was able to see so much more detail, the lace edge of her white bra, the sheen of her glossy pink lipstick, the small mole on her right shoulder. I watched with rising excitement as her fingers deftly unbuttoned the brass buttons of her denim skirt, letting it fall around her ankles and I got another look at those lovely legs. She was wearing silvery grey underwear tonight and I felt my excitement grow as she picked up a dark stocking from the bed and worked it between her deft fingers till it formed a dark ring.

I felt my cock stir as she placed a foot on her bed, pulling it over her toes then tugging and smoothing the sheer, dark nylon up over her calf, her knee. I could hear my heart thump, as I watched her taking her time, her hands smoothing the lacy stocking top against her bare thigh until she was satisfied. By the time, she repeated the process on her other leg, I was so hard, my cock straining urgently against the taut denim of my jeans.

The black cocktail dress she pulled on fitted her perfectly, the low cut showing off her buoyant cleavage, the skirt clinging to her pert, spankable bottom. A pair of heels completed the look, magically lengthening her gorgeous legs and I had plenty of time to lust over them as she once again took pictures of herself before turning off the light, the show over again for tonight.

--

Of course, lying in bed later that night with Cassie lightly snoring beside me, her hands folded over her plump stomach, I did feel guilty about my little secret. It was sordid, and I knew I really should be ashamed of myself but I guess it was a lot like the smoking; I knew it was wrong and would probably end badly but I just couldn't help it. It was a compulsion and, as always, I simply blamed my lack of self-control and gave in to my urges. I mean, I'm only human right?

Most of the time, I was just about able to convince myself that it was possible that Madeleine knew I was watching and secretly enjoyed the attention. Enjoyed showing off her body, got some kind of sexual thrill from being spied on by a younger man. And although I always told myself that I would stop at some point, perhaps after the next time, perhaps next month, perhaps at the end of summer, perhaps when the baby was born. But the truth was that I probably would have kept quietly watching her from the shadows indefinitely, although as it turned out all that was just about to change.

--

The traffic was light that Thursday and I got home early for once, remembering that Cassie had said that she was going to have dinner at her sister's as I reversed into the empty drive. Apparently they were planning some kind of baby shower. I got out, pulled my jacket from the back seat and headed towards the front door as I heard the reassuring clunk of the car locking behind me.

"Hello?" I heard a voice call. "Excuse me, John?"

I looked over to where Madeleine was leaning over the fence at the side of our driveway. She looked alluring in a floral skirt and strappy white top that suited the warmth of the evening, the plunging neckline revealing her impressive cleavage.

"Oh hello, what can I do for you?" I asked, trying to look casual and hide my nervousness as I walked over, all the while silently praying that she wasn't about to tell me about a mysterious, shadowy figure watching from our garden as she undressed. I'd watched her several times recently and I just hoped I didn't look as guilty as I felt.

"I've been trying to put some pictures up and got stuck. Cassie told me you were handy with a drill so I was hoping for some help."

"Oh sure, of course," I said, feeling relieved. "I'll just go get my tools."

I skipped inside, throwing my briefcase and suit jacket on the sofa before collecting my toolbox from under the stairs. It sounded like a quick job, so I didn't bother changing out of the white shirt and dark grey trousers that I habitually wore to work.

"Thanks, John. Do you mind taking your shoes off? I'm a little paranoid about these pale carpets," she said in her clipped tones as I strode up the driveway to her front door, my toolbox swinging beside me.

"Of course," I replied, bending down and pulling off my smart work shoes.

It's not very gentlemanly but I couldn't help looking up as she led me up the stairs, her knee-length skirt swishing around her legs and revealing tantalising glimpses of those creamy thighs that I'd lusted over from a distance. The thin cotton hugged the twin globes of her buttocks, emphasizing their firm roundness as she jogged up the stairs in her bare feet.

"So, as you can see, I had a go but this wall was a lot harder than I thought it would be," she said, leading me into her bedroom and pointing at the far wall. I briefly glanced at the two colourful abstract prints which lent against her large bed as I stepped closer.

"Probably breezeblock here," I said, listening to the solid thud as I tapped the wall, and trying to sound more knowledgeable than I was.

She hadn't gone very deep with her drill, but the fact that she'd already started the holes made it easy. My drill was only a few months old and although it made a lot of noise and dust, it didn't take very long to make the holes deeper. She hovered just over my shoulder as I neatly tapped a couple of wall plugs in place and then added some screws.

"Thanks, you make it look so easy," she exclaimed brightly as I stepped back, nearly bumping into her. "I'll just go and find the vacuum cleaner to clean up that dust."

I took the opportunity to look around whilst she was gone. It was strange to be here having looked in from the outside so many times. Her bedroom was much as I'd expected even though I could only see part of it from the garden: here was the large double bed with its duvet decorated with exotic flowers and colourful hummingbirds and there tucked in the corner was a tall, free-standing mirror framed in oak. Next to the bed was a large wooden bedside table on which stood a vase of fresh flowers, a small light, a box of tissues and a back-and-white photo of a young woman, presumably her daughter. And there were those glass doors which gave her a great view out over the gardens at the back. And allowed such great views in.

Her garden was lovely, I thought as I drifted past her bed towards those glass doors, like something out of a magazine, the flowers colourful and abundant yet neatly confined to their own beds. I could see why she spent so much time out there, she appeared to have a zero-tolerance policy on weeds.

How easy would it be for her to see me from here, I wondered. My eyes followed the line of our fence to the large bush that I'd hidden behind, and I tried to imagine how easy it would be to pick out a figure in the dark.

"It's a great view, huh?" I heard her say, her voice making me jump. In her bare feet, she'd silently re-entered and was looking at me intently as I spun around, a neutral expression on her face.

"Um, yes, a lovely view, you really do have a great garden, we really ought to get some tips from you," I said, comparing her garden with our plain green rectangle of grass, just a few bushes and trees that we'd inherited crowded along the fence and in the bottom corner.

"Of course, these big glass doors sometimes make me a little paranoid, make me feel like someone could look in, could see me, you know, at night."

"Oh really?" I said, innocently.

"I mean, it's probably my imagination but sometimes I feel like I'm being watched."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry it's a pretty good neighbourhood..."I said, trying to sound reassuring.

Up close I had a chance to examine her face. Although she was attractive you wouldn't describe her as 'pretty'; she had a slightly long face with high cheekbones that gave her a slightly haughty look. She had large smoky grey eyes and I flushed as I felt them examining my face. It felt like they were staring straight through me, examining my conscience for any traces of guilt as I struggled to think of something to say to change the subject.

"I've seen you, you know," she said, breaking the silence.

"Sorry, how do you mean?" I said, trying to look puzzled as my heart thumped and my insides turned to cold water.

"I've seen you, down there, in the evening, watching me."

"No, no," I said, shaking my head. "I mean yes, I go out there to smoke in the evenings, Cassie can't stand me smoking in the house but..."

"Yes, you smoke and then you watch me," she said, almost daring me to disagree. "You watch me undress."

"No, no, listen I mean I may have accidentally looked in your direction, but that's all," I conceded, sheepishly holding up my hands as I partially admitted my guilt.

"No, you hide in the shadows and watch me undress like a peeping tom," she insisted as she swept a hand through her hair, easing it from her forehead. I would have expected her to be angry but she kept her voice at the same slightly deep, even tone as those cool grey eyes assessed me and found me guilty.

"Listen, I'm sorry, I couldn't really see that much..." I started to say, completely aware of how pathetic that sounded. Fuck, fuck, fuck, my mind was screaming, this could destroy everything.

"So what should I do, hmm? I'm a single woman living alone here, perhaps I should call the police, or let the neighbourhood watch know there's a pervert out there spying on women. And your poor wife should certainly know what you get up to when she's at work."

"No, please, please don't, this is all a mistake," I said, aware that I was sounding even more pathetic now. Couldn't you get put on the sex offender's register for this sort of thing? And goodness knows, how angry Cassie would be if she found out, that would be even worse.

"Please, what do you want? I'm good at DIY," I said, nodding towards the far wall.

"Perhaps I can help out."

"Help me out, huh?" she said thoughtfully, slowly looking me and up down as if trying to decide what to do with me.

"Listen, what is it you want? I'll do anything," I pleaded.

"Anything, huh?" she said, sitting on the edge of the bed, her expression hard to read as she neatly folded her hands in her lap. "Okay then, take off your shirt."

"I'm sorry?" I asked, although she'd been very clear.

"Take... off... your... shirt..." she said in her perfect accent, as if she was addressing an imbecile. "Or if you're feeling too shy, you can go and leave me to inform the authorities."

"Come on, you're joking, right?" I said hopefully, although the look on her face made it clear she wasn't.