The Gap in the Curtains Ch. 02bySevenSquared©
Eventually, using the CCTV footage from the store, Atlanta PD were able to track down the crook. He was found guilty of armed robbery and sentenced to four years in jail...
Vicky, Liz and I spent a lot of time watching reality cop shows. Not because they were good, but because they were bad enough to be entertaining. The criminals on the show usually got caught not by the brilliance of the police, but because of their failure to plan properly or just their own stupidity. I didn't understand how someone could do something as drastic and risky as commit armed robbery without making sure they had every possible angle covered. Criminals were really dumb, which I guess is why they had to resort to crime. The three of us took great pleasure in picking apart the crimes and pointing out where they went wrong.
"That guy is such an idiot," I mused, as the credits rolled.
"Totally," replied Liz. "Always scope out the CCTV cameras in advance and have a plan to take them out. Every criminal must know that!"
"And why on earth did he fill a bag with cigarettes?" I added. "That added valuable seconds to the job and would give the police concrete evidence if they found them."
"He might have got away with it if he wasn't wearing a Drew Brees football jersey," said Vicky. "Who the hell wears a Drew Brees jersey in Atlanta? He can't have been hard to find for the cops. Just look for the guy at the bottom of a pile of angry Falcons fans."
Liz and I both laughed. Anne, who was also in the room, just rolled her eyes.
"Shall we watch the next episode?" said Vicky
"I'm going to bed," said Anne. "I'm not spending another hour listening to you guys talk shit." I pricked up my ears at this last comment. I quickly glanced at my watch as Anne stood up and made towards the door.
"Okay, goodnight Anne," said Liz as she left the room.
"Night Liz, night Vics," she replied.
"Good night Anne," I shouted after her down the corridor.
There was no reply. I didn't expect one really as Anne rarely acknowledged my existence unless it was to insult me, put me down or try to land me in trouble. It was ironic really, because if she only knew my little secret she would have enough ammunition to land me in all the trouble she could ever want. In one fell stroke she could probably get Liz to break off our engagement, her dad to kick me out the house and maybe even lose me my job as well.
But she didn't know, and with any luck she never would.
"So are you guys going to stay up for one more?" asked Vicky
"Sure, I'm up for it," said Liz. "How about you Craig?"
"I don't think so. I have an important meeting first thing in the morning, so I might just go to the study and finalize my presentation."
This was mostly lies. I was still the junior member of the town planning department at work and I didn't have many 'important meetings' as such, but Liz liked to think I was becoming someone important at City Hall, so I occasionally threw her a bone. I was going to go to the study for a while, but not for anything work related. The study had been a brilliant idea actually. It was a small room around the side of the house that apparently hadn't been used for anything much in years. I asked Liz's parents if I could use it to work in and they were more than happy for me to do so. I brought home a load of impressive-looking folders, reports, plans and drawings from work and covered the desk in the study, but in reality I did very little actual work in there. I mainly used the study for two purposes. The first was for a bit of 'me space'. The Delaney house was very large, but with my fiancée, her two sisters, one brother, two parents and me, seven people in total, it could be difficult to get any privacy sometimes. In the study I could get half an hour to myself with nobody hassling me. The second purpose was that it was where I said I was going when I didn't want to tell anybody what I was really doing.
I sat down on the leather chair in the study and relaxed for a moment. It was dead quiet at this end of the house, the only noises I could hear were the faint sounds of Anne moving around in her room next door. That was another great thing about the study - it was in a perfect location, right next to Anne's room. I knew I had to be patient and wait a while, at least ten or fifteen minutes. Sometimes it would take half an hour, or maybe I would be unlucky and it wouldn't happen at all, this wasn't a precise science. I pulled a mountain biking magazine out of the drawer and read a couple of articles. After five minutes or so I could no longer hear any noise from next door. A further five minutes later I put down my magazine, left the study and quietly made my way out of the front door and around the side of the house.
I wasn't the only one with a secret in this house, Anne had one too. She loved to masturbate! She did it at least two or three times a week, maybe more, but as far as I was aware I was the only person who knew. I had found out completely by accident a couple of months ago. I happened to peek in her bedroom window while I was taking the garbage out and I caught her at her PC with her hand down her panties. It turned out her curtains didn't close properly and after that I had checked in every Wednesday night while I was taking out the garbage and other nights as well when I got the chance. Most of the time I was disappointed, but on a few occasions I happened to look in at the right time and got a real treat watching Anne get herself off.
It was hit and miss, but over several weeks I learned to tip the odds in my favor. My first bit of luck had been the study, where I could chill out and keep tabs on Anne without arousing suspicion. Then I started to notice patterns in her behavior. She would usually go to bed around midnight, but the nights when she wanted to masturbate she would often turn in a little bit earlier, maybe between eleven and half past. But the really big clue was what she said when she went to bed. If she just said "I'm going to bed" or something like that, then that was usually exactly what she was doing. But if she gave a reason or an excuse for going to bed, especially a contrived-sounding one, then it was a clue that she had something else on her mind. It was like she was lying to cover her back as a reflex action, even though there was nothing really strange about wanting an early night.
I was proud of myself when I noticed that pattern. If the signals were right, I knew there was a pretty good chance I would get a show that night and so I would often retreat to the study to 'work'. It wasn't a precise science and I was still left disappointed sometimes. On those occasions I would usually go crawling back to my room, hoping to release my built-up sexual desire on my fiancée instead, who didn't usually take too much persuading. What was it Anne had said when she went to bed tonight? I'm not spending another hour listening to you guys talk shit. That was a textbook example of one of her contrived excuses and at exactly twenty past eleven. As I said, it wasn't a precise science, but I was fairly sure I knew what she really had in mind.
I slowed down as I got to Anne's room so as not to make a sound. I carefully crouched down on the grass underneath her window and then slowly raised my head to look through the gap in the curtains. I never knew what I was going to see when I did this, as Anne's self-pleasure rituals took on several different guises. Sometimes she frigged off at her computer desk, I assumed while looking at some kind of porn. Sometimes she used an improvised sex aid such as a hairbrush or a pillow to help her get off. Sometimes she would just strip, lay on the bed, close her eyes and get knuckle deep. Sometimes she would do more than one of the above. One of the great things about watching at Anne's window was that it was never quite the same twice.
When I looked in tonight, she seemed to be playing a brand new game. She was standing in front of her full-length mirror in her underwear. I had rummaged through Anne's underwear drawers before and found very little other than plain white cotton bras and panties, and that was all I ever saw her dressed in, but tonight she was wearing something rather different. Both bra and panties were a fully opaque deep pink color. The bra was one of those half-cup plunging ones that are designed to be worn with a low-cut top and show a lot of cleavage. Anne certainly had a lot of cleavage to show and her young, voluptuous breasts were practically spilling out of the top of the cups. The panties were slightly more conservative, but were still rather skimpy at the back. Anne had a fantastic ass and they showed it off beautifully, her tight and firm buns clearly on display either side of the fabric.
Anne cavorted in front of the mirror, striking various poses. I wasn't sure what she was doing, I guessed she had purchased some new underwear and was just trying it on. Maybe she had a date at the weekend and wanted to see how she looked in her 'date underwear'. Or maybe it was just some kind of sexy dress-up game. Whatever the reason, I wasn't complaining as the end result was extremely sexy. I could feel my dick getting hard in my pants. I briefly wondered if she had been wearing this underwear all night, or if she had changed into it when she got back to her room. It would be a shame if I missed her getting changed. I would just have to hope she took it off again sometime soon.
Anne turned around a little, standing side-on to the mirror, to view her profile. Her body was now facing me and I could now see that the panties didn't really work at all. They were cut quite thin at the front and unfortunately Anne didn't do much maintenance on her secret garden. I chuckled to myself at the sight of her pubic hair sticking out either side of the panties. Not that I disliked it really. Liz had a neatly trimmed bush, so Anne's unkempt one was a bit different and gave her an aura of innocence and naivety which was a turn on for me. Anne showed no signs of caring about, or even noticing, her bikini line faux pas. She slowly ran her hands over her flat stomach, across her hips and down her thighs, pouting in the mirror as she did so. I pulled my dick out of my pants and started to stroke it slowly, trying to take in every aspect of her body. She ran her hands up her midriff again, this time lingering over her breasts and cupping them briefly, before crossing her arms and running her hands down her forearms. It was hardly a polished erotic dance, but it was good enough for me.
Then came the moment that I had been waiting for, Anne reached behind her back and unclipped her bra. She allowed the straps to fall slowly down her shoulders, then removed her arms from the straps and covered her breasts with her hands to replace the cups as the bra fell onto the floor. It was almost like she was practicing a strip routine. Did she have a job that I didn't know about? Not in this small town, I thought, and certainly not with that bikini line. She must just find it sexy doing it in front of the mirror.
Anne gently massaged her tits. Her hands were small and her tits were large, so there was plenty of 'spillage' around the outside. Eventually she slid her fingers slowly outwards, allowing me to see her areolas and nipples for the first time. She gave her nipples a little tweak, then a longer rub, then she started circling them with her thumbs and I noticed how firm they had become. Anne threw her head back and squeezed her breasts again, mashing them together over and over. Then she released her breasts altogether, walked over to the other side of the room and picked up a chair. She positioned it facing the mirror and then sat down, adjusting the chair to get the view in the mirror she desired. Once satisfied, she started playing with her breasts again.
I rubbed my dick harder as she slowly opened her legs. This was slower and more subtle than most of Anne's usual antics, but I appreciated the variation. I hoped this masturbation in front of the mirror in sexy underwear would become a regular fixture. After another half a minute fully exploring her breasts, she finally released them. She ran her right hand down her body, past her stomach and into her crotch. She then rubbed her snatch through the fabric of her pink panties, slowly applying more pressure to her mound. She was several feet away from me, but after a while I fancied I could see a wet patch forming on the opaque material of her panties. Eventually she brought her other hand in to join the party. She slipped her fingers underneath the crotch of the fabric and started doing... something. It was difficult to see what exactly because I was looking at her right profile and so her right hand obscured precisely what was going on. My imagination ran wild with the possibilities
Whatever she was doing, it was clearly having the desired effect. Her nipples were fully erect and as hard as bullets and her mouth hung open. She started to move her hips slowly in time with her fingers, which caused her tits to gently rock up and down and side to side. Just as I was starting to wonder which one of us would come first, she slipped her right hand down the front of her little pink panties. Whatever her fingers did there seemed to have the desired effect as thirty seconds later she convulsed in orgasm. Her hips jolted forward nearly causing her to fall off the chair. At the same time her back arched and her head tilted back as she rode the waves of pleasure that must have been shooting through her. Just at that point I felt my own orgasm arrive. As it hit I looked at Anne's expression of orgasmic pleasure, wishing I was firing streams of milky cum onto her face instead of harmlessly into the handkerchief that I held over the tip of my cock. I knew I would never fulfill that fantasy, but this was definitely the next best thing.
This was my dirty secret. I had been spending the last two months spying on my fiancée's sister, watching her most intimate personal moments and using her youthful body and her primal sexual urges to help fulfill my own carnal desires. I was a peeping Tom, a voyeur, a pervert, a stalker even. I had made my peace with all of those terms; it didn't really matter how you dressed it up, it amounted to the same thing. I was betraying Liz, who loved me and had no idea about my secret perversion. I was abusing the trust of Liz's parents who had allowed me to live in their house for the last three months. I was probably breaking the law too, although to be honest I wasn't sure precisely which law. I guess I was also violating Anne, although ironically this was the part I felt least guilty about. She had been a complete bitch to me ever since I moved in for no reason at all. In fact part of the initial thrill had been getting one over on the person who seemed determined to make my life as miserable as possible.
I often thought about all of the above. I knew that if Liz, or Anne, or Vicky, or their parents ever found out about what I was doing, they would be repulsed and I could expect no sympathy from anybody. In the past I had read stories in the newspaper about people like me and I always thought they were sick perverts. I didn't feel like a sick pervert. It had all started completely innocently, I never even realized it was Anne's bedroom when I first looked in. But once I knew what Anne was doing it became very difficult not to look. I challenge any man to say they wouldn't take a peek if they knew there was a hot young girl masturbating behind an ill-fitting curtain right under their nose. And it wasn't like I was actually hurting anybody; it was basically a victimless crime. As long as nobody found out that is.
I knew that voyeurism was a recognized and quite widespread sexual kink. A few weeks previously I had spent some time on the internet researching it. I found a whole bunch of websites showing women caught on hidden camera. Sometimes they were caught fucking, sometimes masturbating, sometimes just getting changed. In fact, some of the websites contained little or no nudity at all, showing videos of women just going about their day-to-day business. The only constant was that the victim was unaware that they were being watched. I got quite turned on by some of the videos and eventually jerked off to one of a woman masturbating on the sofa while home alone. I wondered if I could use internet voyeur porn to wean myself off of Anne, maybe I could get a laptop for the study so I could jerk off when I wanted to. But after the initial novelty wore off I found hidden camera videos were no substitute for watching my own blonde bombshell giving me an exclusive private show. Within a week I was back at Anne's window again.
I often wondered about Anne's sex life. Did she pleasure herself a lot because she never had sex? Or did she just have a very high sex drive? She never spoke to me about anything, let alone this kind of stuff, but it seemed even Liz knew very little of Anne's social and love life. Apparently she had dated a guy for about two years at school, but they split up during senior year and Liz was at college by then, so she never found out why. Anne then went to college herself, but dropped out after only a year and since then Liz hadn't been aware of any serious boyfriends. She never brought anybody home and never admitted going on any dates, always claiming she was going out 'with friends'. I assumed that Liz would know about it if she ever had a proper boyfriend, as it was difficult to keep secrets in this small town. I didn't ask any further questions in case Liz became suspicious as to why I was suddenly so interested in Anne.
For the next couple of weeks I didn't spend much time at Anne's window. This wasn't a matter of choice, but between a tight deadline at work, a few social events during the evenings and a wedding upstate, I just didn't have the time. The wedding was for one of Liz's college friends and it was the first we had been to as a couple. Her friends were all nice, but they couldn't really hide their surprise and mild concern about how quickly we had got engaged after meeting on the internet. Some of them had been with their partners for several years and were still not engaged. One asked me if it was weird to move all the way across the country to live with Liz's family and I admitted that it was a little. I suddenly thought of all my family and friends back in California, who I hadn't seen for several months, and it made me a little homesick.
Still, it was an enjoyable event and was nice to do something as a couple on our own. We stayed in a hotel nearby for the whole weekend and it reminded me of when we still had a long-distance relationship and would meet up for dirty weekends. It was nice not to have to worry about who might be walking past the door when we were having sex. Liz was rather loud in bed and several times at her parents' house I had sat embarrassed at breakfast, wondering if any of her family had heard her screams and moans the previous night. If they did they hadn't said anything so far.
When we returned from the wedding, we settled back into our regular routine, except that I made a special effort not to spy on Anne any more. The weekend away had reminded me of everything I loved about Liz and I wanted to spend my precious free time with her instead. One night the following week Anne made it pretty clear (although not to anyone without my powers of deduction of course) that she was going to her room to 'pet the poodle', but I didn't make an excuse so I could go and watch. Instead I suggested to Liz that we have an early night and I was rewarded with a fantastic blowjob from my fiancée. Admittedly I spent a lot of the time imagining what Anne was doing in her room, but I guess that wasn't so bad. I knew lots of guys fantasized about someone else while getting head from their girlfriend.