Sylvan Courtyard: Ch. 01 - Moving In

That day, she also had on a loden green top that was tailored perfectly to her also impressive torso, with its flat belly and softball-sized tits. The peplum that flared out over her hips just made her partially concealed ass look that much better.

"No, these are just my supplies for the rest of the week," Susan said, gesturing with her bags. "Look," she said, as we wandered through the entry, "when are we going to break up the club into wine club and beer club?"

"I like both, myself," I sort of grumbled.

"I understand. Lots of people do. But if we just officially had the beer lovers meet once a month, and the wine lovers once a month, then people like me won't feel like we have to show up for beer nights." Personally, I liked a situation that made Susan show up more often... "And really, it is torture for guys like Manny Dinkins and his buddy whatsisname whenever our meetings get into the weeds about some new grape varietal."

I shrugged. I was not going to get my hands on her groceries, which was a shame as I had been wanting an excuse to go over to her apartment at some point, whichever unit it was. But since that was not happening this afternoon, I waved and headed up the stairs, while Susan crossed the courtyard, skirting the pool.

I tossed down my mail, grabbed a beer out of the fridge, and took my messenger bag outside. I overrode the automatic porch light, turning it off. Even this early in the year, it would have attracted bugs. I plopped down in my chair and took out my laptop. The assignments I needed to grade that evening had been submitted electronically. The evening was quiet, and gorgeous, and even a little warm. I was not going to grade papers inside on my couch.

In the deepening gloom, the lights came on in the second-floor apartment directly across the pool from this side of my porch. I looked up automatically and learned that that unit was Susan's, as I could see her walk in and put down her groceries in the kitchen area.

I shook my head, not for the first time, at one of the few missteps that Josie and Jessie had made in renovating the apartments. Instead of blinds, they had provided white curtains to cover all the windows. In the bedrooms, they were black-out curtains and did a great job letting those of us who needed near-total darkness to sleep, do just that.

But they had only installed privacy sheers in the living spaces. In principle, that was a great idea. They were light and airy-looking, and let in nice, suffused light during the day. That annoyed me a little, however, because that light was too bright for my tastes if I wanted to watch a movie or other TV content before sundown.

I also discovered, at that very moment, that, if the exterior porch light was off, and the lights inside were on, the privacy sheers provided fuck-all in the way of privacy at night. I could see Susan quite clearly as she put away her groceries.

With a grumble, I began reading papers. They would not grade themselves.

I'll admit, my eye did keep getting drawn to motion inside her unit. As I said, I like to look, and Susan, in that outfit, was well worth looking at!

My eyes were drawn a last time as she stood up and turned off her television, then headed for the bedroom. My eyes cast around at the other apartments on the side opposite where I was sitting. About a third had lights on in the living areas. While a few of them had residents who had changed the sheers for something more substantial, or just had them open entirely, most of them were just like Susan's... and mine for that matter. I could see right into a couple of those who had also turned off their porch lights, though the more off the angle, the better the job the sheers did, and the less far inside I could see.

I was pretty sure that for the units to either side of Susan's, and those right below, I'd see right in through the curtains.

I should probably mention it to Jesse or Josie.

As I thought about it, motion drew my eye back Susan's apartment. She walked back out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, heading toward the fridge with her empty wine glass. As I said, my view was clear. I even saw her eyes flick toward the windows to check that the curtains were closed as she first entered the living room. She did it because she was halfway through getting undressed.

Halfway, as in she was completely topless.

Even better, she still had those jeans on, complete with her low but sexy heels.

Yes, better. I would love to see her completely naked, of course. Who would not want to see Susan naked? But a topless girl in jeans is one of my special fantasies. I have many fantasies, but this one was tops.This topless girl, in those jeans was a transcendent experience.

I should have turned away. I should have looked back at my work. I should have texted her that her sheers were, in fact, quite sheer.

Instead, I turned off my laptop and leaned back into the chair to drink in every second I was given.

There were not a lot of them. She just walked over to the fridge and poured herself a second glass of something white. Her breasts bounced as she swung the heavy fridge door closed. Those tits were fucking hot. I had always been a little hypnotized by her ass, and hadn't really considered how nice her tits probably were. Now that I knew exactly how good they were, they would be hard to ignore.

While not massive or anything, they were bountiful, and for all their size, they floated as much as they hung on her chest. The aureoles were large, vertically oblong, and of a rich, dark tone. Her nipples were relaxed, which made sense. To Susan, she was just grabbing a nightcap while getting undressed. She did not know what kind of show she was putting on for me.

My nipples were hard as rocks--along with other portions of my anatomy. I shifted in the chair.

She took a single sip, then turned and swayed back toward the bedroom. She stopped halfway, side on to me, and bent to slip off her heels and grab them in her free hand. That gave me a fucking incredible view of how her boobs dangled when she leant down.

Then she flicked off the lights as she passed into the bedroom, and my show was over.

Fuck!

I really should tell her.

But then I would sort of have to tell her what I had already seen.

In cowardly fashion, I kicked the can of that subject down the road, and went back to grading papers, which were just as bad as I expected.

I grumpily realized that I needed to talk to all my classes about how not only was it a waste of time and tuition money to use ChatGPT to write their papers, not only was it cheating, not only did it often just get shit wrong, but mostly that ChatGPT plagiarized like a mother-fucker, and did nothing to disguise that fact...

*

The next day, Josie was putting up a couple of new notices on the bulletin board as I was leaving the complex. She was, as usual, dressed like the competent guy from Tim Allen's first sitcom, except in denim shorts. Those shorts were nowhere near the painted-on masterworks of denim that Susan liked to wear, but it was still nice to see her in them while stretched up on tiptoes. She was stapling up a notice to everyone that even once the pool was filled, we needed to wait until further notice before deciding to get in, as the chemicals needed to stabilize.

I should tell her about the sheers situation.

How did they not know already?

I realized that both Josie and Jesse's units were remote, in the corner. Their windows faced out back to the woods. They didn't have anything but a severe angle view of any of the other units from their front doors, so it likely never seemed like an issue to them.

Instead of bringing up drapes, I asked about the pool.

Josie grimaced and said that they were way over their budget for getting it ready this year, but she and Jesse had both convinced each other to drain it completely and do a total clean-out. It would take several tankers of water to refill, and those were apparently not cheap.

I let the drapes be. All I needed to be a complete heel was to tell these two overly conscientious business owners that they had a lot of expensive new window coverings that they should replace.

*

Two days later, I again ran into Susan in the entry, this time she was coming in as I was on my way out to buy some beer and treat myself to some Chick-fil-A.

"Hey, Ken!" Susan said idly as she passed. "Coming to book club tomorrow night?" She meant Jesse's Books We Want to Read, not Josie's Books We Ought to Read. She was not a member of that one.

"See you there," I said, instead of what I should have said, which was, 'Um, people can see through your curtains at night.'

Before I could summon the courage to actually say what I needed to, Susan was headed off, clearly not looking to waste time shooting the shit.

Yes, I watched that ass as it departed. I could not help myself, and I did not want to look away, anyway.

I got my beer, and then my delicious chicken sandwich. I drove smoothly back up into our little valley, finally getting used to the double switchback you had to negotiate to get past a giant boulder that had obviously been too expensive to remove when the place was built. My heart idly went out to the truck drivers who would soon be bringing tankers of pool water around that rock.

My fries were long gone by the time I got home, of course, and the sandwich was half-eaten as well. I grabbed the six-pack and finished off my sandwich just as I climbed the last steps to the upper floor. Once I let myself into my apartment, I grabbed one of the beers, shoved my trash in the can, and took my iPad out to the porch. I had no papers to grade, and I intended to relax in the cool, dark evening and ninja the shit out of some fruit on the tablet. Work at school was about to get crazy, and I knew it...

My fingertips were soon sore, but I was having a pretty good evening, score-wise. Then I looked up and saw Susan's light on. So much for good scores, I soon found out.

And no, she wasn't parading around topless again. She was actually just sitting on her couch, with what was probably this week's book club book. Her phone was beside her on the couch, and she was clearly in one of those slow-motion text conversations with somebody or somebodies...

I still had a hard time not looking. Once the male brain gets a taste, it keeps wanting to go back for more.

That went on for a while--almost long enough for me to get effective again about slicing fruit in my game. Then I was distracted again as I saw Susan stand up, mark the book, and set it down, then put her empty wine glass in the sink and head for her bedroom. I even caught a glimpse of her tugging the tails of her teeshirt loose as she headed for bed.

I really should have texted her a warning about the sheers.

No good now, I thought, since she had left her phone on the couch. Right?

My mind whirled at how long she had been in her bedroom. Not very. I opened Messages.

ME: Susan, what do you think of the book?

I could see the flash from her apartment as the message alert hit her phone. Would she hear it, or did she leave her phone on silent?

A moment or so later, Susan popped back into view, probably reminded by the sound of my message that she had left the phone behind.

And yes! She had just managed to get her top and bra off, but her jeans were still on, and though the button was popped open, the zipper was still up. The vision had reappeared.

I pumped my fist in excited silence. I had timed that just right, somehow!

Wait, I had timed it?

Fuck. I had timed it, hadn't I?

I watched as Susan picked up her phone and looked at it. Then she stood there, about three-quarters turned toward me, and absent-mindedly swiped it open. She typed quickly.

SUSAN: Looks like a barn-burner of a finish in this one! I have about twenty pages to go, once I get into bed

She didn't immediately head back to the bedroom, so I realized that she was sort of waiting for a response.

I was going to have a text conversation with this girl while I stared at her tits? Without telling her I could stare at her tits?

I could feel and act guilty later. At the moment, I was staring at those tits... over those jeans.

ME: I finished it earlier. Ending is a bang, but sets up a sequel, so be warned.

SUSAN: No Spoilers!

Damned if Susan didn't just settle down, sitting on the edge of her table, with one leg lifted elegantly to rest its thigh along the edge, while the other stuck out straight to brace her as we got into a discussion!

Even in the abstract, her topless-in-jeans visage was the hottest thing I'd seen since watching Taylor Green take most of my cock into her mouth the week before our college graduation. But somehow the sheer, non-sexual banality of the situation was making it even hotter for me. She even idly scratched an itch on the inside curve of her boob at one point as she perched there, having a text conversation.

I am not much for masturbation, but I might have to whack off hard when I finally left the porch and went to bed...

Fuck. How was I now going to tell her about her sheers without giving it away in my eyes and voice?

ME: Have fun with the last chapters. I'm going to hit the hay.

SUSAN: Wilco. I was just about done getting ready for bed myself when you texted. See you at the meeting! [Smiley Face Emoji]

She barely had her top off. How was that 'almost done'? Did she sleep in the nude?

I fled inside before I did something stupid out on my porch.

It was only a little stupid when I did it inside, in my bed, with the blackout curtains closed...

*

After the meeting, I stuck around to whine at Jessie for choosing a book that wasn't self-contained. To my surprise, Susan had the same issue and stuck around as well. We roasted him a bit, but he reassured us that the sequel was already announced and had a release date in the near future. He even pulled out his phone and showed us the Amazon page for the next book to prove it to us.

I was inclined to give him more shit, but Susan decreed that he was off the hook. Since she decided to leave at that point, I decided I needed to bite the bullet and walk with her, rather than keep gnawing on Jesse.

We had had the meeting down near Jessie's apartment, our deck chairs around that end of the pool. Susan and I walked through the near darkness back toward the center of the complex.

"Hey, listen," I said, before I could chicken out. "You should know... um... when the light is right at night, people outside can see into your living room, even with the sheers closed."

"Really?" Susan said, in shock that was more or less intellectual in flavor, not thinking of possible secondary effects... for about three strides. Then she stopped suddenly. "Wait! Did you discover this the other night while we were texting?" she asked, looking at me through suddenly narrowed eyes.

All I had to do to be truthful was to say no. I had discovered it earlier, after all.

But I froze. And almost certainly looked guilty, even in the gloom.

She immediately recognized that I had seen her at some point at least during her topless texting. Her arm went up involuntarily, as if to cover her chest, then she forced it back down, regaining control. She glared at me for a moment, then smirked a little.

"Did you like what you saw?"

I sort of rolled my eyes and let my head flop around a bit, trying to keep it light while admitting the blindingly obvious.

"You could have let me know, you know, at the time you douche," she said, but with no real heat, thankfully. "I guess you were just too engrossed in our conversation about space battles," she finished with a genuine sneer. It wasn't a very angry sneer, but sneer it definitely was.

"Sorry," I shrugged. "I... I really am. That's why I fessed up."

Susan looked at me again, almost appraisingly. Was I going to be let off the hook? Why?

"I have a boyfriend," she said repressively.

That was not what I was expecting to hear. But again, it wasn't like she was sounding as if she was going to set him upon me.

"And," she added. "I have a girlfriend, too."

That was even more unexpected.

"Um, not sure what to make of those two pieces of information," I sort of blurted. Susan just snorted and looked at me. "Do, um... what do they think of those two pieces of info?" I asked, honestly unable to contain my curiosity.

Susan laughed. "They, um, only have the most abstract knowledge of each other."

I really did not know what to do with that!

"Thanks for letting me know," Susan said and turned to the other side of the pool from mine to head back to her apartment.

I should have gotten a ticking off. I should have gotten a shiner, actually. What I had gotten instead was informed that her social calendar was full. What the fuck?

It still didn't keep me from bemusedly watching that ass, with its sleek, full, but perfectly curvaceous buns swish away.

I shook my head and forced myself to head back to my place, before she turned around and busted me again.

I resolutely did not go out on my porch that evening.

*

But the next night I did.

I plopped my butt down in my seat and started in on more papers. I wanted to, I needed to, work on my own research, but my generous fellowship that paid for this nice apartment with its... stupendous views required I put teaching first on my daily order of priorities.

Fortunately, Susan's apartment was dark.

Until it wasn't. My eyes automatically flicked up toward her place as the lights flickered to life inside. Susan walked in, locking her door and putting down her mail in the kitchen area. Then she stopped and looked at her window, or more accurately, she was obviously examining the drapes. From my own experiments, I knew she was coming to grips with the fact that curtains that looked so opaque were anything but. How she had managed to override the automatic porch lights outside so they didn't come on on their own every evening, I did not know. Did she regret doing it now?

Suddenly, she slid her phone from her back pocket and typed on it.

My iPad dinged.

SUSAN: Are you home right now?

ME: Yes.

SUSAN: On your porch like always?

ME: Yes.

I kind of wanted to deny it, but that comment about 'like always' told me that she had seen me out here all the time when she went in and out at night.

SUSAN: Can you see me right now?

She stared at the window from where she stood, fully clothed of course, in her kitchen. She almost had my location correct. Her eyes were focused just barely to my right.

ME: Yes. This is what I'm talking about.

Susan set her phone down irritably. Then she walked over to the sliding glass doors. Instead of opening them, she reached out and flicked on the porch light. Instantly, she disappeared from my sight. The glass was now just shiny white.

A moment later, I was texted again.

SUSAN: Now?

ME: Like I said, no. Just leave the porch light on and you are all good.

There was extended silence. Then, rather than a reply, the porch light flicked out again, and I saw Susan walking back to her kitchen, fingers working her phone.

SUSAN: I don't get you. You are such a gentleman usually. And you went out of your way to tell me about the situation

SUSAN: But you also watched me in here with my tits out during that whole text thread, didn't you? I've read it over, and you kept me going several times when I was about to punch out

How was I supposed to respond to that?

ME: [Shameful Shrug Emoji]

ME: Sorry.

SUSAN: I'm surprised you finally let me go, instead of hoping I'd finish getting naked for you

ME: Unnecessary