The Girl in the Face Mask

(A cautionary tale)

An Erotic Horror story

They say things will never be the same after COVID-19. It's one of those defining happenings that come along and its effects are so profound that they change everything from how we live, to our values and how we see the world, and nothing will never be the same again.

Well, one thing's certainly changed with the coming of the pandemic -- my flat. It's never been so tidy.

Before the pandemic, my flat usually looked after it had been ransacked by a dozen drug-addled burglars. Now, after two months of lockdown, it looks like fucking Mary Poppins has been living here -all my clothes washed, ironed, neatly folded and in my cupboard, my kitchen looking like it's in a showroom, the bathroom in a pristine state of cleanliness -- anyone who knows me wouldn't believe this was my flat -- not that anyone has been here to see it.

And that's the worst thing about this pandemic shit -- the isolation. It's okay if you live with family or a partner, or flatmate or well, frankly anyone, but if you're on your own, like me, it fucking sucks. I swear if the COVID-19 thing doesn't kill me social isolation will.

Don't get me wrong, I speak to my Uni friends all the time and we chat on Zoom a lot but it's not the same as socialising properly -- actually going out -- being at café or bar or nightclub or the cinema. It's not the same at all. I check the time -- it's coming up to 9 pm -- nearly showtime. I roll off my bed turn out the bedroom light and look out across at the house directly opposite, or more specifically upper window. Its curtains are drawn but not tightly and I can see the bedroom light is on.

She's getting ready.

There's still some time to kill so I call Matt. He's one of my closest mates -- a bit nuts, but that's probably why we get on so well.

The phone rings a couple of times then his face looms large on the screen.

'Hey Nick, what's up, dude?' he says. His face is eerily lit so I can tell he's in front of his PC.

'I'm bored,' I reply. 'So, I thought I'd call you and see if I could get more bored.'

'Well, I do my best, mate. Hey, how come I can't see you?'

'I've got the lights off.'

'Trying to save on the electric bills, you fucking Scrooge,' he laughs.

'Nope. Got my show starting soon.'

'Oh, fuck yeah, that's right, your stripper neighbour.'

'She's not a stripper, Matt. Definitely an exhibitionist though. She just opens her curtains and dances around her bedroom in the nude.'

'You lucky fuck. I didn't even think women still did that -- most that way inclined do that sort of thing in front of their webcam and make a small fortune at the same time, don't they?'

'Maybe her web cam's bust, or she's just the old-fashioned type.'

'What - is she middle-aged or something?'

'No, you ageist fuck -- I reckon she in her twenties or early thirties at most.'

'Trust you to get neighbour like that. How many times now, three is it?'

'Four. Same time every night since Tuesday. Curtains open at 9 and she closes them 9.20.'

'You lucky bastard. And does she do anything else, apart from dance, I mean?'

'Nope, Just struts her stuff to whatever she's listening to and that's all.'

'That's enough if you ask me. You said she was hot, right?'

'Big boobs, double E maybe F-cup, narrow waist, wide thighs, long legs -- definite glamour model material.'

'Bastard. I bet you're making this up.'

I laugh.

'In that case, prove it - film her on your phone and send it to me.'

'I'm not doing that. That's illegal -- complete invasion of privacy.'

'Bollocks. If she's dancing nude by her window, she's not worried much about privacy, is she?'

'Well, I'm not filming her -- I'm not a total perv, you know.'

'Nah, just a partial one. So, you want her all to yourself, eh? Have you found out who she is? Bumped into on the street or whatever?'

'No, I think she moved in last week. Haven't seen anyone else go in or out -- not that I'm keeping tabs or anything. Anyway, she might not even show tonight -- maybe she's got bored with it.'

'I doubt it. Sounds like she's like the rest of us cooped-up frustrated singletons -- probably bored playing with her vibrator.'

'That's all you think single people do right now - stay home wanking off.'

'That's cause they do, mate. Anyway, you never said about her face. Is she pretty?'

'No idea. That's the one thing she keeps covered up. She wears a face mask.'

'Who the fuck wears a face mask indoors?'

'I dunno, exhibitionists who don't want be recognised in public, maybe.'

'I suppose that makes sense. Still, I bet that pisses you off, right?'

Matt is alluding to my pet hate of face coverings -- something I've always had. There's something I find disturbing about people covering their faces especially completely. When I was a kid, I remember seeing pictures from World War One of soldiers wearing gas masks -- it creeped the fuck out of me. It's dehumanising - alien if you like. Even face masks, like the ones surgeons wear, creep me out. And now practically everyone's wearing the fucking things.

'Maybe I'll pop over the road and ask if she doesn't mind taking it off,' I joke.

'You should.'

'What?'

'Go over and meet her, I mean. Why not? What have you got to lose?'

'What, and just say -- I have been watching you dance about in the nude. Do you mind doing something about the boner you've given me?'

'No, you fuck. Just introduce yourself as her new neighbour, ask if she needs anything with the lockdown and all. I dunno, just strike up a conversation.'

'Think I'll pass on that brilliant idea, Matt.'

'Ha! You're just worried she might turn out to be a Muso.'

'I doubt she's that. I don't think Islam's holy scriptures endorse exhibitionism. Anyway, I've nothing against Muslims.'

'Yes, you do. You're a fucking Islamophobe.'

'No, I'm not. I just don't like the face veil. Anyway, most Muslim women don't wear it.'

'Islamophobe, Islamaphobe,' Matt taunts.

'Fuck off, Matt. So, enough about my new nude neighbour. What have you been up to? Discovered any interesting conspiracy theories online lately?' Matt is a huge conspiracy theory fan -- he laps up anything from shapeshifting lizard men running the world to underground Nazis on the moon.

'Dude, don't even joke,' he says sounding serious. 'There's a lot of shit out there at the moment. This pandemic thing's a godsend to governments around the world -- they're getting a lot of shit under the radar, using COVID-19 as a smokescreen, y'know?'

'Yeah right, Matt. I think COVID-19's more a godsend to conspiracy theorists than politicians.'

'Believe what you like, mate. But it's happening out there for real. And COVID-19's not the only new virus -- there's shitloads that aren't making the news agenda -- worse than COVID-19. Governments are scared people will panic so they're suppressing this stuff.'

'Not very well by the sounds of it.'

'It's all on the dark-web, mate. You can read for yourself. And have you heard about that new thing? It's happening everywhere.'

'What new thing?'

'The nodding thing?'

'The what?'

'The nodding thing. I've seen it for myself. Next time you're out at the shops or whatever keep your eye out for it. You'll see a lot of people doing it.'

'What, nodding?'

'Yeah, it's really creepy. People out and about, total strangers, passing by and giving a little nod to each other, like a masonic thing or something. They never speak -- just this barely perceptible nod. And get this, they all got face masks on. There's footage on the internet.'

'Nodding to each other? That's the lamest conspiracy theory I've ever heard. In fact, does that even qualify -- where's the conspiracy?'

'I'm not kidding, I saw it for myself yesterday. I was jogging in the park and this fit girl was passing some little old lady walking her dog -- both wearing the facemasks, and they gave each other this weird little nod to each other as they passed. On my next lap I passed the girl, and y'know, thought I'd try it myself. So, I gave her a nod to see if she'd respond, but she totally blanked me.'

'Did it not occur that she might know the little old lady? And I don't blame her for blanking you, Matt, some sweaty shit like you ran past giving her a nod it's a wonder she didn't run off screaming.'

'Very funny mate. You can joke if you like, but there's some weird shit going on right now, you wait and see. -- Fuck. That's my doorbell. I gotta go, dude. Listen, call me back when your neighbour does her thing. Give me a running commentary.'

'Fuck off, I'm not doing that.'

'You greedy git -- you just want some peace to wank off -- I bet you do have one-off-the-wrist when you watch her, don't you?'

'I do not,' I lie, though in my defence this was only on one occasion -- so far.

'Fuck -- All right I'm coming!' he yells to whoever's at the door.

The screen goes blank.

It's 9.00. I squat down and don't press my face too close to my window in case I can be seen. Behind her bedroom window, I see the top of the curtains twitch before a moment later being theatrically swept back revealing my exhibitionist neighbour.

She's on form and looks to be naked though she's so close to the window she's only visible from the waist up. I'm disappointed but not surprised at the white face mask she wears. Once she moves further inside the room, I'll be able to see more. Her arms are stretched up as she pushes back the curtains, her large breasts swaying with the movement. I tear my eyes off her for a moment to look below into the street in case there are passers-by, but the street is deserted.

She moves a little further back into her room her hips swaying her arms moving from side to side to the melody of whatever music she's playing. I can't see it from my vantage point, but I assume there's a stereo or maybe blue tooth wireless speaker in her room. From the motion of her body, the song or music seems fairly mid-tempo it's easy to imagine the track being Abba's Dancing Queen -- though I suspect it's something a bit more modern -- Lady Gaga, or Beyonce.

She moves around her room as she dances, turning around to show off her full voluptuous form, her movements fluid and smooth her arms sometimes raised in the air, her breasts swaying and bobbing with the motions. Her head moves side to side, her thick mane of dark hair tossed with the motion. It is an extremely erotic sight and by now my cock is fully erect, straining against the thin material of my boxer shorts. I wonder if she sings as she dances, but of course with her face mask on it is impossible to know.

Her movements change, there is an acceleration in her motions, perhaps a song with a more up-tempo rhythm is playing. She climbs on to her bed revealing her full length and confirming, aside from her face mask, her total nakedness. Her movements have become more dynamic. She tosses her head back, her dark hair flailing her back, her breasts jutting, back arched, hips gyrating in wide movements. Such is the performance I'm convinced she must be a professional dancer at a strip club. I think about removing my boxers and wanking off but now I've got Matt's voice in my head taunting me which is a total put-off -- bastard.

After five or so minutes of this high intensity dancing her motions slow and she sways seductively, her hands clutching her ample breasts pushing them together as though to offer to an imaginary lover. Her eyes are closed. One hand drops down between her legs, her fingers over her crotch, and she bucks her hips as though fucking.

Changing her stance, she squats down hands on knees her rear-facing me as she twerks, her rump wiggling and bouncing with sexually charged action. I'm thinking; fuck, I should have filmed this on my phone after all. Then she's off the bed again, dancing in the same rhythmic motion as she started, hips gyrating as she turns and struts, arms high above, her head lolling to one side then the other.

She moves to the window, presses herself against it so her boobs are flattened obscenely on its surface, her hands with fingers splayed pressed against the glass as though she is trapped. Then she flips position so her back is against the glass and she writhes as though some invisible assailant has her pinned there. She moves away into the room dancing all the while as I watch captivated and practically salivating at her display.

She does another circuit of the room her motion slowing again, becoming languid, seductive. She positions herself at the window again swaying her hips and pendulous breasts then she reaches up arms outstretched and grasps the curtains heralding the end of tonight's show. She made twenty minutes seem like twenty seconds.

I wait for her to close the curtains but then something happens. She pauses in her action and looks dead straight ahead.

At me.

I know she can't see me -- that would be impossible for I'm sitting in near darkness, hunched down yet her gaze is so penetrating, so intense, I am certain she is staring right at me. The back of my neck seems to shrivel and shrink, and I fight the urge to duck down for such a sudden movement may be noticed. She holds the gaze for infinitely long seconds, then abruptly, mercifully, she sweeps closed the curtains. I sigh heavily and collapse on the floor. 'Jesus, fucking, Christ.'

I lie in the darkness of my bedroom, the image of her staring in my mind's eye.

And I think.

Matt's words echo in my head -- 'go over and meet her -- what have you got to lose?' I imagine telling him next we speak that I did -- he'd be fairly speechless for once -- he'd never think I'd have the balls to do it. Fuck it. Carpe Diem.

I get up, dress quickly and grab my denim jacket. I stop by the bathroom to pee and clean my teeth, then I'm out. I close the door to my flat, make my way down the stairs and out the front door. It feels chilly outside in the evening air and the urge to chicken-out is suddenly very strong. What if my other neighbours have been watching her? What if they're watching now -- viewing me as go over to her front door? I glance about. The street is quiet, almost empty. The windows in the house either side of mine are darkened, blinds or curtains shut -- no sign of life -- no curious faces peering out.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck it.

I cross the road, and like Caesar crossing the Rubicon it feels like I'm irrevocably committed to my own dare. And perhaps if some wide-hipped, bare-breasted beauty had been standing on the other side of the Rubicon river, Caesar's army wouldn't have been so hesitant to cross.

Standing there, in the illumination of the porchlight, I feel acutely vulnerable as if a thousand people are watching me. I take a deep breath and ring the doorbell, still having no idea what I'm going to say if she answers. I'm hoping inspiration strikes. There's no response and after half a minute has passed, I decide to head back to my flat -- at least I was brave enough to try.

As I step from the front door it swings open and her masked face appears. Her eyes, a piercing blue, are wide and inquisitive. She's wearing a silk dressing gown. For some reason, I was expecting her to be nude.

'Sorry, to bother you,' I bluster, smiling stupidly. 'My name's Nick. I live just across the road. Thought I'd introduce myself, seeing as how you just moved in here...'

I await a response, but she says nothing. Her wide eyes drink me in. They blink once.

'Anyway,' I go on, 'If you need anything, I mean, with the lockdown an' all...'

She merely stares at me and I'm not sure if she comprehends what I'm saying. It occurs to me perhaps she doesn't speak English. Then to my surprise, she opens the door wide, stepping back in a gesture of invite. I hesitate, thinking she's misunderstood me. My mouth hangs open dumbly as I think what to say. She gives a small flick of her head indicating I come in.

I step inside and she closes the door behind me.

The hallway we're in is dimly lit, and beside the passageway leading to other rooms and the kitchen, is a staircase.

We stare at each other and when she remains silent, I try again. 'Em, do you speak English? Do you understand what I'm saying?' Nothing. She looks European so I try a different tact. 'Anglais? Parlez-Vous Anglais?' Still no flicker of comprehension. Eh, Sprechen Sie Englisch? Verstehen Sie?'

She continues to look at me much the way I imagine a scientist looks at some vaguely interesting specimen. Then she holds her hand out to me. I take it without thinking, an automatic response. Her hand is warm, her skin soft but her grip firm. She turns away and leads me up the stairs. I open my mouth to protest but the words die in my throat and l go with her in childlike compliance.

She takes me into a curiously familiar bedroom, and I realise this is the room I've watched her in when she dances naked. A double-sized bed covered in a white duvet takes up most of the space. There's a wardrobe and small chest of drawers but nothing else and the room has a strange feeling of sterility to it. There is nothing to suggest an occupant -- no magazines or books, no laundry, no hygiene or makeup items, no framed photos or other personal effects. It is even absent of smell -- no residual scent of perfume or scented items that a woman might use. It's like a hotel room waiting for an occupant. Nor is there any sign of a stereo or speaker or any technology item that she must have used to play music from when dancing which only adds to my puzzlement.

There is no further time though for contemplation, for still holding my hands, she motions for me to sit on the bed. I do and she lets go of my hand and takes a step back.

Her eyes fix on mine, her gaze intense and penetrating. I have the impression she is going to speak but instead after a moment or two of this awkward silence she cocks her head, and I notice there's a peculiar small hole in her throat quite low down. Her slim hands unfasten her dressing gown cord, and in a fluid catlike movement, she sheds the garment which falls in a silken pool around her feet.

She looks at me expectantly and I realize she wants me to follow suit. I take off my jacket and begin to undress though in my mind some instinct tells me I should leave. My erection in my pants suggests I do otherwise. As I undress the voluptuous mysterious masked girl begins to sway and silently dance before me. My shoes and socks are off now and I'm tugging my jeans down. 'Uh, listen I haven't any condoms on me, I don't suppose...'

Predictably, I get no response, and she continues to sway to whatever music is in her head. Her hands press against her large breasts squashing them, then move down over the contours of her waist and hips as her head lolls from side to side her eyes half-closed. She's deaf, I realise. That's the only rational explanation there is. I'm almost naked now, sitting on the edge of the bed, only my briefs remain on, some ridiculous feeling of modesty holding me back.

She looks down at me, steps closer and takes my hands and presses them to her big fleshy breasts. They feel exquisite, firm yet soft and malleable. I squeeze them gently and knead them as though I am working dough. She squats down and pulls my briefs off, exposing my full erection. She takes my cock in her hand giving it an exploratory feel, her hand soft and cool on my hot member. She traces her fingertips up and down the shaft then under my balls which she gently massages.

'A condom,' I say weakly. 'We should use...'

But her eyes, mute yet commanding, seem to dismiss my words. She stands places her hands on my shoulders and gently but firmly pushes me back on to the bed. I shift myself further onto the mattress to be more comfortable and she slithers serpent-like on top of me. Her eyes look at me hungrily. I reach up and touch the straps of her facemask, I want to see her whole face, but she swats my hands away, then grasps my wrists firmly holding my arms down. She shifts further up over me so her big pendulous breasts hang over my face. She lowers her chest and smothers me in warm soft flesh. She moves from side to side massaging my face with her breasts. The sensation is unbelievable. I'm moaning from the pleasure she is inflicting on me. I want to touch her with my hands, but she still has my arms pinioned down.