Voyeur Extraordinaire

I
’d never considered myself a voyeur, but that changed one night when I came home late from waiting tables in a shabby bar where ass touching was considered a valid sport, and spotted my new neighbor banging a red-head across from my bedroom window. If I’d known what would follow after, I’d have never picked up those damn binoculars. Or maybe that’s just what I’d like to tell myself.

***

I could still feel the imprint of his hand on my butt. It had burned itself into my skin – just like his sweat had left a stain on my skirt. I hated the way the guys in Jack’s bar thought that because I delivered their drinks to them in a ridiculously tight and short skirt (requested by my boss a.k.a. Asshat Jack), I gave them permission to clap my ass like I was a donkey they wanted to get moving faster. But I shouldn’t complain – I needed that job and those ass claps were more action than I’d gotten in a while and, if you didn’t count the few awkward make-out sessions with creepy-Chris, probably all my life.

I squinted into the darkness. The light in the hallway on my floor wasn’t working – again. I’d complained to our landlord Mr. Olsen at least a dozen times and just that often he’d promised to fix the problem. Maybe he’d finally fix the problem if I broke my legs tumbling down a flight of stairs. That might actually solve my financial problems. I felt my way forward, my heels catching on the uneven carpet. Who in their right mind put carpeting into a corridor of an apartment building?

No light came from under the doors of the neighbor apartments. It was past midnight and most of them were probably long asleep.

When I reached the door to my apartment, it took me a few minutes to fumble the key into the lock and open the door. Bruno yapped sharply and jumped against me, his paws scratching over my legs. I guessed that meant I could kiss my tights good-bye. At least they’d been only 99 cents. But with my budget even that added up to a dangerous amount of money if your overweight dog managed to get runs into a new pair every fucking night.

I pushed him into the apartment, closed the door and turned the light on. The stupid bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered a few times before it started working properly. Amy threw a fit every time she saw it. I should really take her up on her offer to go lamp shopping with me. For a moment, I stood in the middle of my one-room apartment with its tacky kitchenette and bathroom where I got water on the toilet and every inch of the floor every time I took a shower. Despair and frustration kindled in my stomach but I squashed them immediately. It wasn’t pretty or big but at least I had a roof over my head and didn’t have to live with my parents anymore.

Bruno gave a high yowl, his claws digging another hole into my tights. I patted his head as I stepped out of my 4-inch heels. After a nine-hour shift running around in them, it felt like my feet were on fire. Luckily, Amy was looking after Bruno for a few hours every day while I was at work and brought him back into my apartment around 11pm every night.

I glanced at the stack of paper on my tiny desk squeezed between my grandmother’s wardrobe and my bed. Would someone ever want my writing or was being a waitress really the end of the road?

Three years ago, after high school, I'd moved to New York in the hopes of finding inspiration for my writing and maybe – hopefully – an age
nt or a publisher for my books.

‘
That had worked out just perfectly, hasn’t it?
’ A nasty voice whispered in my head.

My parents weren't happy that I hadn’t started college and was now living on my own in the big city. If they'd had a say in the matter, I would still be living with them, attending community college, boring myself to death or alternately trying to escape Chris's advances. Freaky Chris had been my prom date and still tried to contact me occasionally. He was too insistent and oblivious to my rejections – just like the stupid ass customers in Jack’s bar.

I walked over to my desk, which was pressed against the white wall below the window, and grabbed the curtains to close them. I glared at the brick building in front of me that towered over its surroundings and obstructed my view of the park that I knew lay behind it. It was a new investment project with luxury apartments. I’d heard rumors that they were planning on removing our apartment building to build even more of those luxury apartments. It wasn’t that I loved living in this dank room so much, but it was cheaper than most apartments, so if Mr. Olsen ever decided to sell I’d probably end up on the street.

I allowed myself a peek at the panorama windows of the other building. They’d been rented out or sold only recently and I didn’t know a single person who lived there. Not that those people would want anything to do with a waitress. Most of the windows were dark or the curtains were
drawn, only a single window, one floor below, was illuminated. It was a bedroom – which was held in light colors. Beige and white. A painting of red and black and blue squares hung over the massive bed. I’d never understood modern art. Why would people pay millions of dollars for something a kindergarten kid could draw?

I let out a frustrated sigh. Had my life gotten so pathetic that I was analyzing other people's bedrooms?

Yes.

Definitely, yes.

I let out another sigh, more resigned this time. Bruno wagged his stumpy tail and let out a yelp while he was busy tripping over my feet. His little pug face seemed to be smiling up at me. He was only ten months old and I'd bought him because I'd promised my dad that I'd have a guard dog if I lived alone. I had to bite back a snort. Dad hadn't been too pleased when he'd found out that I'd chosen a pug. I guess he'd imagined a German Shepard or a Great Dane or something like that. Maybe he should spend more time in my tiny apartment, then he’d realize how ridiculous his suggestion had been.

I tore my gaze from Bruno and was about to close the curtains when something in the illuminated window caught my attention. My eyes widened and a strange small gurgling noise escaped my throat.

Stumbling back, I almost ripped the curtains off but managed to pull them shut in a jerk as I tried to catch my breath. I drew in some desperately needed gulps of oxygen and tried to calm my racing heart.

A naked man.

There had been a naked man in the window.

My mind tried to wrap around the fact and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking while they were still clutching at the curtains. I wasn't sure why I hadn't let go of them yet but my body seemed unable to move. Slowly, and a bit guiltily, I leaned forward and peered through the gap between the curtains.

My eyes found the window; the light was on, and there he was.

The man stood in the middle of his room, in plain sight. Didn’t he know that everyone who peered at his window could see him? Maybe he enjoyed being watched. But now that I took a closer look, I noticed that only his chest was naked and he was still wearing beige pants. The sigh of relief – or maybe disappointment, I wasn't entirely sure – got stuck in my throat when a beautiful woman with long red hair came into view. She
was
naked.

I almost choked on my tongue when she knelt down in front of the man and pulled his pants down. Now I almost wished that the stupid brick building were closer to my apartment; then at least I'd have a better look. I bit down on my lower lip, feeling ashamed for that thought, but at the same time I couldn’t stop thinking about a solution for my problem.

A grin tugging at my lips, I turned around and hurried toward my wardrobe. I fell down on my knees and pulled out one of the moving boxes I used for storing old stuff. I threw away the lid and started rummaging in the box, ignoring the photos of me flashing my braces in stupid smiles and not caring if I spread my belongings all over the floor. At the bottom I finally found what I’d been looking for.

I grabbed the binoculars with a sweaty hand and jumped to my feet. My toes caught on a bump in the floor and I had to grab the wardrobe to steady myself. Whoa. I’d end up breaking my neck if I kept it up.
Pathetic.

I hastily switched off the light, covering the room in blackness, before I positioned myself behind the curtains, hidden in the darkness of the room. With shaky hands, my pulse pounding in my veins, I brought the binoculars to my eyes and peered through them. After a moment, I found the illuminated window. My focus was on the upper part of the man, and I was mesmerized.

His eyes were closed and his head was tilted back in obvious pleasure. His hair was the most fascinating shade of blond, almost golden, and he was simply beautiful. I usually didn't use that word for men, but it was all I could think of when I looked at his face. His lips parted slightly and, though I couldn't hear it, I imagined he'd moaned. Slowly, my gaze traveled lower over his muscled chest, his taut stomach, the fine line of hair that led to his...

…
cock. Oh my.

My face heated and I had to steady myself with a hand on the window frame.

His boxers had joined the pants on the ground by now and his erection stood on alert. The red-haired woman wrapped her fingers around his shaft and started pumping up and down slowly.

My mouth went dry when she parted her lips and began sucking him, her eyes watching him the entire time. She seemed so in control – as if
she
had no problem taking what she wanted. Heat pooled in my lower belly and I rubbed my thighs against each other to alleviate the sweet tension that was building in me.

I couldn't stop watching as the redhead sensually worked her mouth up and down, her fingers tracing every inch of his body. I wondered how his skin felt under her fingertips, how he tasted. Was he burning up the way I did? I allowed myself to close my eyes, imagining how it would feel
to be the woman in that moment.

I shuddered and my lashes fluttered open.

The man placed his hands on the woman’s head and tangled them in her red curls, pushing her mouth up and down harder and faster. He was looking down at her, watching how she worked him and another silent moan escaped his lips.

On its own accord the hand that wasn't holding the binoculars traveled over my breasts, my hard nipples, and down my belly. Slowly, hesitantly, I pushed my hand into my sweatpants. I cupped myself over my panties and moaned softly. It had been a while since I’d pleasured myself. Most of the time I was too tired. As I watched the redhead sucking the man, a heat I’d never felt before spread through my body.