I wrote the words in black ink on the white cardboard and slipped the sign behind the curtain onto the windowsill facing her apartment. It read:
Apt. No 1630--->
The arrow pointed to the bottle of champagne placed next to the message. I knew she would see it well in advance of the date. I did not ask for an RSVP, intending to wait until the appointed time to learn if she would appear.
One year ago, I was in my apartment and glanced out a window at her building. By chance I noticed her watching me, her head peering around a curtain while she otherwise concealed herself from view. When caught she did not hide, she just continued to watch. I waved an unsure wave, not knowing what else to do and went about my business. Our apartment windows were not far apart- separated by the distance of two sidewalks and a single lane one way street. The view was clear and close, close enough to see and be seen.
That odd event stirred my interest and I began to randomly glance at her window wondering if I was being watched, again. From time to time I would catch her. She never shied away. This continued over a period of time. I did not know her apartment number or her name. I assumed she did not know mine either. At first it all was 'innocuous', if you could label it that.
As our encounters mounted, her behavior became more open and brazen. Her physical concealment ceased and exhibitionism began. It started with her standing at the window in a bathrobe leaning forward and watching me, her breasts barely covered, cleavage exposed and a devilish smile on her face; the next time she stood in the recesses of her room wearing a dark but see through body stocking. And it evolved, each time more enthralling than the last. At first I was not sure if she knew I saw her, if she just did not care if I was watching or if her exhibition was intentional.
One day she caught me watching her, she walked away from the window, looked over her shoulder, gave me a seductive little smile and dropped her bathrobe exposing her bare ass as she disappeared into another room. 'Playful' I thought. The next time she did more- uninhibited, she slowly disrobed in the recess of her living room, far enough away from the window that nobody else but I would see her peeling off lingerie and caressing her breasts, pinching her nipples and touching herself. She threw me a kiss and walked out of sight. Lovers would come and she would insist on being taken in plain view, unbeknownst to them, where I could view their acts.
Did she know I was watching? Yes. During the acts she subtly acknowledged my presence; a glance, a fluttered wave of her fingers or a smile were the acknowledging signals. She was generous in her exhibition but personally distant. It was not often, but occasionally we would cross paths on the street. A nod, a glance and smile, a wink or a shy quiet "hi" were the only forms of acknowledgment. Neither of us ever stopped to talk. I would always look over my shoulder to see if she had looked back at me. She never did. When I laid out my invitation, I was not sure if she would accept. The anonymous nature of our relationship was the allure of it.
When the day finally arrived, my anticipation and anxiety heightened. Just before the appointed hour, I put the fine bottle of chilled champagne in an ice bucket in the living room and sat down in an over sized chair facing the door. I waited in silence, straining to hear each little noise in the hallway, hoping for the sound of her approaching footsteps.
I sat for a while. It seemed like an eternity. I kept wondering to myself if she would come. Since the time I extended the invitation, I had pondered whether she was had reservations about joining me for a drink, whether she was reluctant to break the 'silence' and take a risk. Five minutes passed, maybe a bit more. It seemed like an eternity. Disappointment began to overcome anticipation as the appointed hour passed minute by minute. From the long strained silence, there came a polite tapping on the door. I got up and peered out the door eye hole. There she stood, just on the other side of the door, waiting to meet me. I turned the knob, wondering how that very moment was going to change the future....
"Come in. Thank you for joining me," I said as I offer to take her knee length fur coat. A coat? In late September? Quite odd for early Fall weather. She clutched at the collar indicating she would keep it on.
"Thank you," she said as she entered, and seized a seat in the over sized chair near the door and opposite mine. As she sank into it, she crossed her bare legs and looked directly at me through a pair of very dark and sexy sunglasses. Her knowing exactly where she wanted to sit should not have surprised me. Her decision was premeditated; this woman looked through a window directly into my living space and watched my life like I was in a fish bowl.
"It is a nice view from over here, yes?" she said in a serious voice as she gazed out my window towards hers. I noticed she had a slightly foreign accent, perhaps French.
"Yes, always very nice," I complimentary replied as I poured a glass of champagne and handed it to her.
"Thank you," she said accepting the drink, "I come here conditionally, and will stay, provided, we discuss nothing more than what we have seen through our windows. Agreed?"
"Agreed. What is your name?" I asked.
"That is inconsequential," she said brushing aside the inquiry, "but I now know yours from the board in the lobby."
"Then what should I call you?" I asked.
"...'Fiona' is a good name, I am partial to it, even though it is not my real name. Why did you invited me here?" she asked.
"It has been about a year since I first caught you watching me. After that you unabashedly continued. I have been guilty of reciprocation. I thought a toast to the past year appropriate," I replied, "...beside, it is not everyday that complete strangers share the way we have..."
"Being 'complete strangers' is what makes the sharing all the more fascinating, and 'guilt' is not the proper word for what you have been doing. I never deterred your gazes," she said, "in fact, I am pleased you watch me...." She seemed very direct, "I need to know something- what happened to her, the brunette, who was with you for about six months?" she asked.
I was taken aback by the question, "Claudia? Our personalities clashed," I replied.
"Shame. She lasted longer than the others. The sex, it was very passionate, yes? I was sad to see her go. Claudia seemed to like the sex... so did I, more so than when I watch you with the others," she confided.
"Why did you find Claudia so good?" I asked.
"It was not just the physical act. It was the way you approached her. Some nights you would romance her, be soft and tenderly kiss and play with her, take time to tease her, and all this before you would remove one stitch of clothing.... and as you did, you took your time to know her, appreciate her, pleasure her, covet her, engage her and then slowly succor her... finally you would climb on top and take her with a slow prideful enduring passion.... then there were the other nights... the nights when you would ravage her like an animal, rip off her clothes, devour and pillage her for your own pleasure, and then hers... I found it all sordid and tantalizingly erotic. Add to it the secretiveness of voyeurism and knowing that you knew there was a chance I was watching, and, perhaps that you were also performing for me too.... I often wondered....," she said.
"Sometimes I saw you there, watching us... Your presence did not change how I performed, it was strictly about her, but with others, it is different," I replied.
"Your passion for Claudia is so far unsurpassed," Fiona commented, "I liked it best when you bent her over the back of the couch, her face toward my window. I particularly liked watching her facial expressions at the height of passion- they are unforgettable. They communicated the core of what she was feeling, her eyes closed tight, she deep in concentration, her body rippling with every thrust until she threw her head back and screamed in a sudden and powerful overwhelming orgasm... she is a very passionate woman...it is a shame you do not still see her... it excites me just thinking about it, and I do think about it...."
"Do you think about me?" I asked seeking ego fulfillment.
"That, I will not tell you, yet," Fiona replied, "The others, do you like any of them?"
"Yes, and you will not know which one or ones. That is my business for now, despite the fact I have allowed you to watch," I said.
"I like the short haired one. You need to be more aggressive with her. I think she likes playing the role of a prude and playing you. Maybe you should tie her up, be a little aggressive, see if she likes it..... I would.... like to see it, that is," Fiona said baiting me.
"I'll remember your preference," I replied sarcastically.
"Oh, not into making a show for me? I am so disappointed... what if I sent you someone who was a willing complicit? Or, maybe I have and you do not know it?" Fiona suggested.
I leaned over and poured her another glass of champagne pondering her last comment, "I may leave my curtains open for your view, but I do not know if you are there. I assume you do the same for me. It is a game of coincidence. Do you know who I enjoyed? That short brunette you had last week."
Fiona looked puzzled as I continued, "You remember, the one who was about your shoulder height, short hair, very submissive? The way you devoured her was amazing. She just kept throwing herself at you over and over... You must have very good technique- she really loved the way you fondled her.... I loved the way you stood on the couch, hovering before her face as she tasted you, your hands on the back of her head pushing her face forward as she took you to climax. That, my friend, was a very very nice...."
"I am sorry, you are mistaken... that was not me. I have a twin sister, she likes both women and men. Last week I was away and she stayed at my home," Fiona claimed.
"Well, she knew to look for me. There was no doubt she caught me watching and enjoyed it. She could have closed the curtains and did not. Does she know about our little 'thing'?" I asked.
"Well,... kind of, but not everything," Fiona said, "I told her things in the beginning but shortly after we started I told her we had stopped, that you stopped... she must not have believed me...."
"Or, maybe it is you creating a layer of intrigue?" I suggested, baiting her.
"No, I do not like women, but you can keep guessing if you chose to doubt me," she retorted.
"By the way, how long have you been watching me?" I asked.
"I am surprised it took you so long to catch me. It has been more than a year. Why did you not seek some privacy?" she asked.
"Curiosity and because you permitted me to watch. I never expected to see what I saw and each time it became more fascinating. If I stopped, then would you have too? Do you like being the object of attention?" I asked.
"Object of your attention? Yes. I noticed that you do not want to be caught watching me when I am with someone- you like the sordid secrecy of it all. The lights in this room go out when you see I am with someone. I can see your silhouette illuminated by the lights in the back room as you sit in that exact chair and watch. I may be making love to my partner, but I also know you are watching. It can become a 'ménage a trois' in my mind. I close my eyes and imagine what you are doing, or, what I would be doing to you if you were with me at that moment. It turns me on. I like it best when my lover sits on the couch; I straddle him and place my hands on his shoulders. I lean my breasts into his face and slowly ride him as I look out the window searching for your presence. I think about what goes on in the dark, how you touch yourself and think of me, how you would touch me, how I would touch you, maybe how it would feel if you joined us.... Tell me, what have you seen, what have you liked?"
I began, "There is one man who usually comes to you after midnight on the weekends. He is much bigger than you. With his size and strength, he can throw you around like a rag doll...," the look on her face suggested I tell her more, "there is never much conversation and the two of you are quick to the act. You lay back on the coffee table top and spread your legs. He is quick to lift your dress and bury his face between your thighs... you must like his technique very much- it is not long before your hands are reaching above your head to grasp the table edges and brace yourself as you arch your back to resist the pleasure. His hands are forcefully placed on your hips to restrain you as he devours and pleasures you. I notice he has the ability to get you off really hard- you buck your hips hard and he fights to hold them down. Once you are satisfied he stands you up, bends you over, your hands placed on the coffee table for balance. He removes your skirt and he has his way with you, slowly working his way in, spreading your lips and widening you until he penetrates deep. He is a man of respectable size and I can tell that you enjoy being widened... Do you feel pain when he takes you? Do you like it? Do not answer, I know the answer is yes to both questions.... and here is what I like the best- once he has entered you fully and widened you to his liking, he withdraws and leads you to the bed. He throws you on it. Yes, I can see what happens in there too when the door is left open... You spread your legs in a submission, he lays between them, brings his sex to yours and the two of you join. Your legs barely wrap around his hips. He raises his head and shoulders, his muscular arms holding up his torso as his hips thrust his sex into you.... as he builds momentum he shifts position and brings his arms under your legs and pushes forward pinning you down, your legs angle straight up in the air, your high heels pointing to the ceiling... as he sears his sex into you he erupts with hard forceful thrusts.... It is the way you are taken that I enjoy watching- you are dominant and controlling with your lovers but with that one man, you are submissive. I wonder what it is about him and why you change your behavior, why you are so submissive to him...."
"I have wanted to hear you tell me that story for a long time. I have always wondered about your impressions of us, how you would describe it, what your voice would sound like telling it. I will not tell you who he is or why I am like that with him. That is for me to know. I can only tell you the relationship is private and very, very illicit..." she said.
Fiona rose from her seat, removed her glasses and walked behind me. "May I?" she asked as she reached around and began to unbutton my shirt. I did not reply. As her hands worked the shirt she leaned to my ear and whispered, "I have wanted to run my hands across your chest," as she fanned her fingers and ran them through my chest hair, down under the shirt, across my abs to my waist and back up, "...does that feel good? I think you like it," she said as she shifted her hands to my shoulder length black hair, running her long slender fingers through it, "I bet watching me all this time, not being able to talk to me, touch me, have me, has been slowly burning an insatiable craven desire within you.... the inability to satisfy a desire is such a powerful thing... pure lust is addictive- it can take hold, course through your veins and drive you mad if not satisfied. Have you suffered that as you watched me?"
I could smell the sweet subtle odor of her perfume. Her touch, and the first feel of her warm flesh, made her human and set free the all too familiar lust for her to course through my body. She walked around the chair and stood before me. I observed her up close for the very first time. She looked right at me, her look penetrating my deep green eyes, piercing directly into my soul. I felt exposed. She knew exactly what I was thinking and feeling. She brought a finger to her deep red lips, cocked her head to the side, sublimely smirked and contemplated me.
"I owe you for your hospitality, and not just today," she said before a long silence fell between us. She began to unbutton her coat, a smirk growing across her face. She took the coat by the lapels and slowly spread it open revealing her naked body, save for her sex which was hidden by a black 'see through' silk panty.
"Do you like?" she asked. I took a sip of the cold champagne, swallowed hard and observed her. She was like the fluted crystal in my hand- sleek and elegant, perfectly curved in all the right places and enticing to the eye. I wondered if she was as pleasing as the elixir in the glass.
"A much better view from here now..." I replied.
She said, "I thought a close up was in order. Study me more."
And that I did- 'Fiona' was an appropriate name. She had short dark hair. Her skin was a true alabaster. Facially, her cheeks were high, her lips deep red and her eyes cat like in shape and deep blue in color. Her body was a slim and firm five foot six or so. Her breasts were small and perfectly proportioned to her slim body, crowned by large puffy peach-pink nipples, the kind that demanded a soft caring attentive touch but might also like it rough. The dark colored panty sharply contrasted her pale skin and seemed to jump off her body. I thought of the times I watched her from afar, lusting for her and wondering what she really looked like up close. Now, I knew.
"I need to know..." she said softly as she knelt before me and parted my knees. She reached and pulled my shirt tails from my pants, unbuckled my belt and undid the zipper. I lifted my hips and she drew down and removed my pants and boxers.
"Just as I suspected... perfect size and shape... oh, and slightly stiff too... Is someone aroused?" she asked taking it in her hand and shaking it in jest. "You know, voyeurism lends itself well to fantasy... you must have a vivid imagination, especially with what I permit you to see.... do you touch yourself in the dark when you watch me? Tell me, I need to know," she commanded.
"My imagination runs wild for you. I imagine you in all sorts of fantasies," I confessed.
"Tell me more, tell me what kind of fantasies. Specific positions? Situations? Special clothes? Bondage? Domination? Submission? Romantic? Sometimes I like the kinky fetish ones," she plied, "I want to hear one now. Maybe the idea of the fur wearing rich-bitch woman from next door in her elegant clothes and high society jewels, the one who begs the young stud to take her, she on her knees sucking him off and begging to be fucked, does that turn you on? It does wonders for me," she said taking my cock in her hand and slowly stoking it. I looked down and watched her every move. She kissed the head of my sex, her red lipstick marking her territory.
"Want to tell me, now?" she asked just before taking the head in her mouth. The warmth of her breath and moistness of her mouth heighten my excitement. I sat in silence enjoying the moment as my arousal swelled.
"No? How about now?" she asked as she went back down on me all the way. I sat in silence for a few more moments as she savored my sex.
"You tell me your deepest darkest fantasy first," I requested, "and then I will tell you mine."
She paused and thought about the proposition. She looked up at me with her deep blue eyes and confessed, "My deepest darkest fantasy- I have two, really, the first is not just a fantasy, it is more of a fetish. I really do not know what to label it. I will role play any fantasy you want, provided, I am always in control. That is what turns me on- 'control'. Want to try?" she proposed.
"Yes," I replied.
"Then first tell me your fantasy about me," she countered.