Waiting and watching

[JackJonesHull]

The clouds shielded the ground from reflected light from the moon, in turn shielding his furtive movements from sight. No street light reached to here, the failed bulbs over the alley between the houses keeping him in darkness. The only light was that from the not quite drawn curtains ahead.

 

He’d first caught sight of her at the back door overlooking the garden on the day she moved in. The previously empty house briefly a hive of activity as a moving lorry appeared and eventually vanished. The fire haired, equally fire lipped, woman in baggy black clothes leaning in the doorway sipping from a champagne flute, clearly toasting her new home.  Then again just after twilight a few days later through not yet closed curtains, as he stood in his own back door. This time her frame clad in what appeared to be just underwear. Next day the same, underwear only seen, this time, from his kitchen window. Soon every night, for weeks, he would wait in a darkened room, an audience to her, become obsessed.

 

Then last night no more free show to unknowingly excite him. The curtains drawn, just a narrow column of light showing, occasional flickers to suggest movement within.

 

He’d ***ed himself with thoughts, remembrances, imaginations since the moment. What was he missing? But he was confident that he would see her again tonight. But no! His addiction behind fabric protections, stolen from his view. 

 

The only option was to steal closer and satiate this need he had built to see her curved lines, those lines that had danced in his mind for over twenty four hours. So he did, even knowing the  wrongness of his actions but unable to stop. The garden was still unkempt so easy to hide in as he approached the house, but pulling at his clothes, the occasional thorn jabbing through. The anticipation, the panic of being caught, tightened his throat and dried his mouth.

 

But he was there, the light from inside ***ting a column of light upon his face. He leaned forward to the glass, one eye aligned to the gap. 

 

She was there!

 

---

 

His breath caught in his throat. 

 

Just beyond the curtains, just beyond reach, the vision projected on the inside of his head made real.  With her back to the window he surveyed the view. The soft gentle red curls tumbled around her shoulders, close to not one red but a shifting curtain of reds. Her pale white skin even more so as a background to such vivid colours. A, seemingly, matching underwear seat of lace bra and high leg briefs, with clincher almost bridging the gap between. 

 

The initial shock subsided, the moment passed, time started again, and he realised that she was moving in time to music. Her feet, in very high heeled strappy boots, spread wide. Her hands placed upon the back of an old wooden chair. His eyes followed the metronomic sway of her arse as it kept time. One leg suddenly hooked over the chair back, then balance shifted and around the chair she sashayed, then bent forward over the chair as she faced towards the window. A burlesque routine he realised, being performed for him alone.

 

Unwittingly he found himself stroking a growing tautness within his clothes. His breathing heavier misting the window.

 

Still she toyed with the chair, the heels fall heard even through the glass. As she passed behind the chair the clincher was cast aside.

 

His heart tightened, but his tautness released as he unbuttoned his jeans.

 

And still she danced for him. His mind locked absolutely on this moment. He almost missed out on this moment.

 

There was a noise inside. Her head whipped around towards the front of the house. Quickly she sat and removed her boots, shrugging a mid length silky robe about her shoulders and tying it closed. He watched her leave the room and despaired.

 

But she'd be back he knew, so stayed where he was, waiting for her dance to finish and with it him too.

 

The minutes passed, he replayed what he'd observed in his memory, still softly stroking himself, smiling surely.

 

Suddenly his breath left him, and with it his consciousness, as the sound of electricity arcing filled the night. He collapsed to the floor.

 

“I've caught myself a ***ping tom!” Her amused voice chuckled.

 

---

 

Something was very wrong.  He couldn't think, he couldn't remember, he couldn't feel, he couldn't move.

 

He couldn't move!

 

Memory flooded in. The neighbour dancing. The need to touch himself. The disruption.  Then new recollections. A sense of someone else then *** then nothing. Nothing until now.

 

He was laid back upon an inclined cushioned surface, close to upright but not quite. Ankles out of sight but restrained by wide straps, he could turn his head now enough to see his wrists were the same. Moving to test other movement he found similar straps seemed to be around his thighs with another across his midriff.

 

What was happening?

 

“Ah, I see you have awoken!” A throaty voice murmured from the shadows.

 

A light flickered into existence to illuminate.

There she sat upon the old wooden chair. Dressed as he last saw her but with the boots adorning her feet again. Ankles crossed, knees slightly apart, turned slightly to her right, right arm hooked over the chair back, left arm bent across her and resting upon her right thigh. Slowly tapping a closed notebook upon that thigh. Now he could see smokey makeup about her eyes and scarlet upon her lips.

 

“What were you doing in my garden? At my window? Are you some dirty pervert?” She asked.

 

“I'm nothing of the sort” he managed to cough “I'm just a concerned neighbour!”

 

“Concerned neighbours are not to be found masturbating in other people's gardens” she barked back. 

 

He ***d on that unwilling to admit the blatant truth she uttered.  Any sense of the excitement he has felt absolutely gone now.

 

“Why were you at my window with your cock out you nasty little worm” She murmured 

 

Unthinking he replied “You closed your curtains!”

 

“Oh, otherwise you'd be cumming in your kitchen sink!” She snapped back. “But this is much more fun.”

 

She dropped the notebook on the floor next to her and pulled the left cup of her bra down placing her uncovered breast on a shelf of lace.

 

“Now you're scared and it shows, now it's my turn!” Her left nipple was teased by her own fingertips in counterpoint to her words.

 Her right hand displayed her other breast, now both being massaged and teased as she watched him stir. She leaned further into the light to provide a better view as she stroked her skin, then whipped the bra up and off in an obviously practiced move.

 

He couldn't help himself, near instantly he was hard. Her supple body inflamed him despite the ***.

 

“Oh that's better! She gasped and moved from sitting to standing in an instant. A few steps and she was before him. The smell of her filled his senses, a vaguely honey soap smell washed over him. She reached up and released his right wrist. In a breath she was away and back on the chair.

 

Now it was confusion that filled him.

 

Her hands cupping her breasts as thumbs stroked nipples. Feet set wide, knees apart. Tongue licked lips glistening in the light.

 

“If you like what you see then cum for me!” The command came.

 

Tentatively he reached for himself, seeing he may escape if he did what was demanded of him. Certainly he was excited, the restricted movement adding something unexpected. His hand moving up and down his shaft his release could be only a few minutes away.

 

“Oh, you can do better than that I think!” She laughed at his almost mediocre masturbation.

Standing up again she clapped 

“Play music!” And music played from hidden speakers.

At once she recommended her burlesque routine, this time with breasts swaying to exaggerate her every step.

 

His movements quickened as the excitement rose within him. Seeing this, perhaps to add encouragement, she pushed her panties down and stepped out of them. Now only clad in black boots and confidence she continued her routine.

 

His balls were starting to heat and he could feel the slight jerks within himself that he was close. His hand moved more quickly, the trailing thumb rubbing against the head. The movement catching her attention so she was sat facing him as a jet shot from his grip, followed by another, lesser, ejaculate.

 

“Now, there's a good boy!” She gasped. The fingers of her right hand upon her own sex, thumb stroking high whilst fingers dipped within. Her left hand upon her left breast, nipple clearly squeezed tight between thumb and forefinger.

“Keep going, make sure you're empty!

 

With eyes locked they took their own pleasures until, almost in unison, they both gasped. Another jet of cum from him, a full body shudder from her with eyes wide and leaning forward trapping her own hand.

 

They both sagged in position.

He waited,

And waited.

Then she looked up at him.

 

“Did I say that I called the police about a trespasser. I might have not mentioned that. They could be here soon.” She warned.

 

Very quickly she pulled on baggy jeans and a loose sweater and smiled as a predator would.

 

“Are you going to be a good boy for me?  You don't want the police involved really do you?” She enquired of him 

 

He shook his head no. Sure that she might be in greater trouble than he but not wanting any trouble. He had done something wrong and, despite being humiliated, appeared to have got away with it.

 

As the thought occurred there was a knock at the door. She stepped out of sight to answer it.

 

“Oh, good evening officer, thank you for coming so quickly.” He heard her say.

“Good evening miss, you called about an intruder in your garden!” The police officer replied.

“There was someone looking in my windows in the back, but they ran away after I rang you, I didn't really see them” she explained 

“Do you want me to come in and take a look?” came the response.

“No thank you. Sorry I forgot to identify myself.” She declined.

“Detective Chief Inspector? Ma’am!” He could hear the police officer straighten up.

“I shall do the paperwork tomorrow constable, good night.” And the door quietly closed.

 

The thoughts that filled him now were crashing. Perhaps he wasn't getting away after all.

Edited July 27 by JackJonesHull
Superfluous text.