I hadn't brought a pair of binoculars, but realy didn't need
them. The street between the buildings was one-way and
narrow. I could have spit and hit his window. Inside his
apartment, the lights went on.
My ears rang, and I let out the breath I'd been keeping
prisoner in my lungs. He was there. This was realy going
to happen.
Everyone peeks. We do it al the time when we drive past
houses at night with the lights on, in hotel rooms we can
see into from across a courtyard, when we pass a half-
see into from across a courtyard, when we pass a half-
closed office door. I'd never set out to spy in hopes of
catching someone doing something naughty. I couldn't
decide if the tension in my gut and tingling in my fingertips
were from ilicit arousal or self-loathing.
The former, I thought as the curtains in Eric's bedroom
twitched and the light came on in there, too. I was more of
a pervert than I'd ever imagined. Voyeurism had never
melted my butter before, but knowing this would get him
off, that this was a trigger for him, got my nipples hard and
built an ache between my thighs I knew I'd have to
aleviate with my own hand before the night was through.
He stood at the window for a minute or two, looking out
for so long I wondered if he could see me. With the light
inside his room and the dark out here, I didn't think so. I
didn't dare move. Shielded by shadows, I drew in slow,
even breaths and watched him stare out into the night. He
didn't look as if he saw me, or anyone, though his eyes
moved side to side, searching.
Finaly, he turned and took a few steps toward the bed.
He wore only a towel, his hair wet and slicked back.
Water gleamed in silver droplets on the tanned skin of his
back and shoulders. I wasn't quite close enough to see
back and shoulders. I wasn't quite close enough to see
them run in rivulets down his spine and into the crack of his
ass below the towel's edge, but I could imagine it. And
did.
He hesitated, looking over his shoulder with a hand at his
waist. I wondered if he'd ever thought so hard before
about who might see him from outside. Though I kept my
sheers drawn al the time, they wouldn't entirely block a
peeper from getting an eyeful, but I'd never realy believed
anyone was trying to. I was sure I'd think of it every time,
now, and wonder who might be spying on me when I
thought I was alone.
The difference was, Eric knew he wasn't alone. I thought it
would make it more difficult to get naked, knowing, even
though he had said he liked it. That he wanted it. His
shoulders hunched for a moment and then the towel was
gone. Disappeared.
