Who watches the watchers? Part one.

[JackJonesHull]

His nose was almost touching the glass of the window.
The crack of light through the gap between the curtains his whole life.
A drum solo playing loudly in his ears from the pummeling his heart was providing.

For two weeks the curtains had been opened and nothing hidden since the mysterious new neighbour had moved on.
By accident he had discovered that on these summer evenings he had an unobstructed view from his upstairs box room directly through this window.

Every evening he'd seen her, a fire haired woman, appear here, discard her shoes by the door and progress to slowly disrobe until finally laying naked, languishing catlike, across the sofa. The need to watch taking his will and demanding his presence as observer.

But today the curtains had been roughly pulled closed. He knew he should have just returned quietly to his normal daily routine but thir*** evenings of her had him addicted. So he had sidled through the gaps in their mutual fencing and found himself desperately trying to see her again.

His breath steamed the outside of the glass, slightly obscuring the view. But he dare not wipe it clear for *** of making a noise and betraying his voyeuristic intent.

There didn't seem to be any movement from within but he could hear a soft music emanating through the glass. Perhaps she was not alone. The thought suddenly struck him. Perhaps this was a very bad idea. He stepped back and went to turn away. But what struck him most of all was something across the side of his head.

"Oh dear, a trespasser, a ***ping tom!' he saw her reddened lips pronounce as consciousness seeped away.

......


She watched him from the sofa as his mostly limp, but completely naked body, hung in the chair before her. A criss cross of ropes securing him there. A web of beautiful shinbari. Her very best example of Kinbaku to show him at his best. The cosh used to subdue laid tidily upon the coffee table between them. His clothes, equally tidily, folded beneath the wooden throne like chair upon which he was restrained.

She had to admit that she was surprised that he had come on the first night the curtains had been closed. The expectation was perhaps the third or fourth, certainly not the first. For thir*** nights she had laid the bait, fully aware he watched. Already noting when viewing her new home that her upstairs room had a clear view into his house a mirror of her own.

She sensed him stirring at last. His head no longer dropped to his chest. His breathing no longer the steady rhythm of the absent. His legs and body unknowingly gently straining against the soft ropes.

" "Will you walk into my parlour?" said the spider to the fly." She murmured beneath her breath.

...

To be continued (if so desired).