Window Dressing

She grunted. Her cat didn't quite understand why jumping into her lap could be more uncomfortable for her than other women, if she was unlucky. But Pearl was just glad she wasn't using her claws. She stroked the little furball down her back, feeling her purring softly.

If only she had her phone handy, she could post a hilarious selfie. Something about touching some soft pussy...

Oh well. She was stuck here until her cat got bored.

Coincidentally, that also meant she was stuck sitting here, watching her neighbor eat crackers.

It was better than most things on TV at this time.

---

Pearl wondered how her neighbor had moved her couch across the hardwood floors so effortlessly, gliding like a piece of wet ice with seemingly very little effort. Maybe she had purchased those furniture sliders she'd seen advertised on late-night TV. If she had, they must not make them small enough for her coffee table. The woman cleared the newspapers, magazines and coasters off the table and set them aside as she hoisted the table out of the way, setting it down somewhere beyond her view.

Her own living space was filled with a gigantic sectional couch that Pearl bought on impulse. Seeing all the open space suddenly allowed to her neighbor made her question that decision. Then again, when she threw parties, that sectional hosted twelve to fifteen people, depending how much cuddling there was going on.

The mysterious woman had cleared out a huge amount of space in front of her. Was she about to try one of those virtual reality games, clearing the space so a sword swung to destroy a goblin would not also plant her hand in a lamp or fishbowl?

She left her living space for a minute, and returned with a rolled mat.

Exercise. Of course. That explained why she was walking around in her underwear, with her long dark hair tied up in a bandana.

Pearl could afford to go to a nice gym. She could even afford to pay for a nice gym and never set foot in it as she ate an entire pizza. But her real hesitance about working out in a public place, she imagined was close to her mysterious neighbor's. It was hard to find clothes baggy enough to not draw attention to their bodies. One unplanned erection could be quite awkward, and Pearl knew she was not so disciplined when surrounded by all those excellently toned bodies.

Besides, Pearl was more of a dieter than an exerciser... and not even much of one. She took walks essentially every day to get some fresh air and some moderate amount of exercise as she sat at her computer all day, every day. On a very rainy day, Pearl kept her phone in her pajama pocket and shook her leg repeatedly to eventually trick the pedometer in her phone to reach her step goal. (As trendy as wrist-mounted pedometers were, Pearl could not stand wearing watches. They got in the way of typing.)

Maybe Pearl could have jogged around her apartment hallways... but what would she have done if she ran into her mysterious neighbor?

Pearl was probably safe to do it now, as her neighbor stretched and got ready for her workout.

But then... she'd miss the show.

The mat made Pearl think this would all start out with some nice relaxing yoga. But no, she just stood on the mat as she did a rather intense workout. She was facing her television, so maybe she was performing along with everyone in the pre-recorded video tape.

P90X? Crossfit? Tae-bo? Buns of Steel? Body by Jake? Pearl couldn't tell what it was, but it looked intense. Lots of presses, squats and holding one leg up in the air...

As the workout progressed, the neighbor worked up quite a sweat. Her skin was shiny... and her cotton underwear darkened with absorbed moisture, the cotton becoming ever-so-barely translucent.

The woman's package looked great.

Of course it did. It was great, stowed in a surprisingly small bulge that didn't look comfortable for all the moves she was doing. How liberating it would be to free that thing after a workout, the way her afternoon walks were even nicer if she'd hit her daily word count before then. The sports bra had been invented to hold things in place without much discomfort. Where was the equivalent invention for the hung futa interested in a strong workout? Was there a jock strap made to hold such a jock?

This was the only way in which Pearl could claim to be interested in exercise.

Maybe they could team up. Pearl certainly didn't have the discipline to join a yoga class and be surrounded by women in yoga pants. If she was ever going to learn yoga and get all the alleged health benefits from it, she'd have to do it at home. Maybe they could help each other out, hold each other's legs down as they did crunches, helping each other stretch out, learn some of the advanced positions...

Pearl felt her face flush. The thought of facing this woman after all the images she had stolen from her window immediately made her anxious. Could she possibly meet her and pretend she wasn't familiar with her nudity, the way normal people might have to do if they met a porn star?

Over this intense half-hour workout... Pearl hadn't questioned once whether she should be watching this. Yes, under certain definitions, the neighbor was 'dressed,' but most people who were seen in their underwear would consider themselves 'not dressed.'

She was the one doing the workout, but Pearl was the one with a strong heartbeat and a warm feeling in her core.

The woman wrapped up her workout with some cool-down stretches, and soon disappeared for a long time. She eventually returned, her hair now wrapped up in a towel and wearing a bathrobe. (Where this bathrobe had been on that fateful day, who could say?) The woman moved the furniture back into place and took a seat on the couch. She had summoned a long white device with a large ball on the end and a switch in the middle.

Pearl recognized that device. She'd had to describe it in detail many times. Hitachi had dropped their name from this device years ago for not wanting to be associated with sex toys, but what was so wrong with that, Hitachi? The puritanical euphemism 'back massager' was just that, a lie that nobody really believed, like the jumbo candy bars that were split in two to suggest they weren't both eaten at once.

Pearl stood suddenly, her erection not clearing the underside of her desk. As funny as it would be if her desk was propelled into the air, Pearl's cock just tipped to one side in a way that hurt and wasn't funny. Furthermore, she hadn't gotten up in a few hours, and her legs were stiff. She barely got to the curtain in time before this woman had turned her vibrator on and started using it...

On her back. The neighbor folded one arm behind her and applied the vibrating wand to the small of her back. She closed her eyes in obvious relief.

It... really WAS a back massager.

Pearl was stunned, standing there for a few seconds.

Once she remembered she was standing at her window with her giant erection standing out of her panties, her balls hanging out of either side of them like the back of a thong, she quickly shut the curtains.

What if someone had seen her like that?

---

Pearl swore to herself it was just because she thought it was cool. Pearl took a hilarious picture with it and posted it to the Internet, saying that 'now she can see your tiny thing.'

But now... Pearl was the owner of a pair of binoculars. It was an old set she found at a cute antique shop that let her take lots of reference photos of interesting artifacts for possible use in the future. The leather cover on one of the lenses has broken down completely from years of being held. It being a lopsided feature told her either that the previous owner of this par of binoculars was left-handed... or maybe she was holding them upside-down.

She had the lights off in her apartment, resting on her elbows on a decorative pillow from her couch. This snooping had taught her how bright internal lights were. She didn't want anyone to see what she was doing in her apartment. How embarrassing would that be?

Across the way, the woman was watching television on her couch.

She was naked.

Legs folded in her lap, she took each foot in turn and neatly buffed each nail with an emory board. She was flexible enough to bring her foot up close enough to her mouth to blow away the dust. Pearl could never get her foot quite that high.

Watching someone in a private moment of personal hygiene, when they weren't aware someone was watching... this was the stuff of the lowest perverts on the Internet, those that hide mirrors or miniature cameras on their shoes. It was one thing to catch someone in a moment of undress, but in a moment of grooming, the sorts of moments everyone engaged with every day and would still be mortified to be seen by anyone but their most intimate partners...

It was fine. She wasn't here to look at her feet. THAT would be perverse, the kind of people who became demented by their paraphilias and were unable to operate without provoking them. Pearl just liked naked women and big dicks. Unlike some Internet snobs whom she faced with annoying regularity... she liked them both at once.

She wasn't doing this just to inspect her neighbor's nude form. Pearl was now deeply familiar with her neighbor's body. She could describe it in luxuriating detail. She also wasn't watching for her own arousal. Pearl was on her belly. It would be very hard to self-gratify in this uncomfortable position.

Pearl smothered a sneeze in her other hand. She wasn't normally allergic to her cat's hair, but neither was she normally rolling around on the hardwood floor like a drunk groundhog. She just hoped she hadn't made her curtains move enough for someone to see. THIS was the advantage of having blinds: spying was so much easier! Of course, they never let a room get totally dark, so she went with the blackout curtains like a fool.

She brought the binoculars back to her eyes and reset her sights. The mysterious woman picked up the remote control, changed the channel, brought her foot down to the floor... and slowly grew erect. As one generally did in this situation, the neighbor's hand went to her cock and gently stroked it.

Pearl did not join her. She threw herself into her bed and buried her head under one of her pillows, the way someone might try to sleep if their partner had a heavy snore.

This was a REAL violation of this woman's privacy. Sure, maybe she shouldn't have her curtains open like an oblivious idiot, but Pearl should definitely not be looking at her through a crack in HER curtains... with a pair of binoculars.

That's how an artifact that had survived maybe a hundred years without so much as a cracked lens wound up discarded in her bedside trash.

And then dug out again.

And then dropped back in again.

And THEN dug out once again. She could at least return the thing. Maybe she'd wear an eyepatch and ask them if she could trade them for a telescope.

---

The last week had been tough on her.

It was Saturday, a day most people anticipated. Pearl didn't really have 'days off' the way people with nine-to-five jobs did, as she tried to get at least a few words done every day. But she would not trade even the worst days as a professional writer for any other career.

The last week had been a real roller-coaster. Well, if the roller-coaster only went down, and continued down, and kept going down into depths she didn't know were even possible, as her ears popped as the air pressure changed, and things got warm as the entered the molten mantle below the crust, and this metaphor started to slip away from her.

The mysterious woman was sitting on her couch. Since it was daytime, she couldn't really see any fine details of her because the sun was so much brighter than the light in her apartment. Pearl could basically see a moving silhouette sipping from a white coffee cup, facing her TV. What was there to watch on a Saturday morning? It wasn't still a contiguous block of cartoons, was it? Maybe she was watching one of those political programs. Maybe she was a tireless activist of whatever political cause filled her heart with joy.

This was the point where most viewers would tune away to something else. But now, she was watching out of momentum. She hadn't closed the curtains in two days, and the woman had done nothing interesting or titillating in that time. Nothing as compelling as a bowl of microwave popcorn to munch while watching a scary movie. Just resting on her cozy couch and decompressing from the day's work.

And yet... once she appeared, Pearl couldn't take her eyes off her. It was not out of misplaced romantic feelings or anything that silly. Pearl felt more like she'd visited the zoo on the day the tiger was actually walking about instead of sleeping on the other side of the enclosure. She was anxiously waiting for her to do something interesting... even though the only thing that likely qualified was more casual nudity... which she'd already seen! What was the point?

It was even starting to affect her output. She had her least productive week in a long time, or at least the least productive week that wasn't caused by travel or sickness. She would waste time staring out the window like a bored eighth-grader, and thus would feel guilty for wasting her time AND for violating her neighbor's privacy. She tried typing on her laptop on her couch, or in a different room, but she could never focus knowing she might be missing something. And her big window didn't have a DVR.

Every time her neighbor did something silly or revealing in front of her, Pearl twisted herself into a knot trying to reconcile it as acceptable behavior, but the excuses weren't holding anymore. She knew she should stop looking into her neighbor's apartment. She should also stop looking at Twitter, too. But at least she liked what she saw in her neighbor's apartment!

God, if only this woman would just shut her curtains! Then Pearl could get back to work.

It might be difficult to describe what inspiration felt like to someone who hadn't experienced it. To Pearl, she compared it to making a science fair volcano. She might not be able to describe why baking soda and vinegar react in that way, but she knew what to do when it started.

Pearl dressed herself quickly, trying to make herself presentable as fast as she could. She felt like she was rushing for a job interview that she only just heard that she had. She went through a few different sweater vests and skirts, but the centerpiece of the outfit were her panties. They were the thickest, plainest, brief-iest granny-panties in her arsenal of undies. When she HAD to keep it under control, these were the ones she wore. This was putting her cock into cottony solitary confinement.

Grabbing her keys out of her purse, Pearl left her apartment and marched down the hall, all the way to the other side of the building. She couldn't be exactly sure what number this woman's apartment was. She just looked for the apartment that appeared to be in the same place as hers in the other side.

Pearl found what she thought was the right one. She knocked on the door, a little more aggressively than she meant to.

Ten seconds of silence, in which Pearl resisted the urge to run away.

Then, the door opened.

It was her.

She was even more lovely up close. She was probably Latin, maybe the child of Spanish or Mexican immigrants. She had dark hair, a slightly long nose, pronounced lips, perfectly manicured eyebrows, and smoky hazel eyes. She wore a red silk bathrobe wrapped tightly up to her collarbone, not an inch of naked flesh below the neck visible. The silk clung to her form so tightly, not adding a millimeter to the nude shape of which Pearl was so surreptitiously familiar.

"Yes?" The woman said, eyeing her.

Pearl never felt nervous in front of a crowd. At most shows, she walked around without pants on just because having two hundred lusty eyeballs falling on her cock was so incredibly hot. Someone with Pearl's superficial blessings might not be the obvious candidate to sit around her apartment all day, seen by nobody.

Here... Pearl had no idea what to say. It was just her and the woman that she had wronged... without her even realizing it.

"Hello." She began, a reliable place to start any conversation. "I'm Pearl. I'm your neighbor from across the way. I'm in... 740 and this is 702, so we're... across the park from each other."

The woman stayed silent. Maybe she was a police officer or a detective, sitting quietly as the guilty party incriminates herself.

Pearl continued, even though it felt unwise. When a car is stuck in the mud, it was smarter to hit reverse than forward. "I thought you should know that... I can see you through your window."

The woman glanced back. She could see the open window from the door, and in the great distance, Pearl's window.

"I've seen you in your apartment, watering your plants and... sometimes walking around in some... states of... lesser dress, and I thought you should be aware that you might be more visible than you thought. Especially... being a futa and all."

The woman turned back to Pearl sharply with slightly widened eyes. This woman might not as been as public with her identity as a futa as Pearl was.

Pearl continued, rushing her words now. "And I understand, because I'm a futa, too, but that doesn't make it right that I looked through your curtains, even though I didn't mean to, but maybe other neighbors wouldn't be as understanding, not that there's anything to be embarrassed about by being a futa or anything, and I'm not shy about my body at all, but... God, this is so much more embarrassing than being naked in front of a crowd, let me tell you. I'll show you mine if you don't believe me, or if you want us to be even, but you don't have to, of course. It's totally up to you."

Pearl stopped her ramble as the woman put out her hand. "It's all right." She said in a voice in a lower register, a polite smile appearing. "Thank you for letting me know about this."

"OK." Pearl said softly, still short on breath. "I'm so sorry about this."

"It's all right." The woman repeated. "I guess... maybe I'll see you around."

With a soft nod, she stepped back into her apartment and closed her door.

Pearl walked through the halls, passing all the other doors until she reached her own. She entered her apartment and looked out past her curtains once again. She took a breath and stood in the sunbeam, the warmth and life-giving energy combined with the liberating feeling of being freed of her shameful secret.

For a moment, the hung futa smut writer felt as pure as a drop of glacial runoff.

Then, Pearl looked across the gap and into her neighbor's window.

The woman in apartment 702 had returned to view, standing right near the window.

(How did Pearl NOT get her name?? It was as if all her networking skills vanished upon standing in her presence.)

The woman was standing still, waiting, looking across the way at Pearl, like a smart fish looking at the people visiting it at the aquarium. She walked to one edge of the window, took hold of the curtains, and pulled them down with a fierce yank, the curtain rod falling to the floor, brushing the branches of her plants as it fell. She picked it up and threw it into the apartment, onto the nearby couch.

Standing in the center of the window, the woman put both hands on the lapels of her robe and dramatically rolled them back over her shoulders, the garment dropping to the floor.

Pearl gasped.

The woman walked over to one of her potted plants, took grasp of her soft cock...

And watered the plants.

Pearl's tight cotton briefs were not prepared for this spectacle. Her swollen girth snapped the rubber waistband, the garment slipping down her legs as if they knew when they would no longer be needed. Her freed erection stood out from her skirt like someone poking their head as they hid under a table with a tablecloth. She panted, clenching and unclenching her hands. Something was building inside her... and she absolutely HAD to get it out.