Molly's Mistake

As she finally finished hanging the shower curtain in her tiny new bathroom, Molly Sullivan took a step back from her work, shaking her hands to get the blood back into them. She'd had her arms up over her head for the last five minutes or so while she was hanging the damn thing and her palms had gotten all tingly.

Her new apartment was almost livable. Granted, there were lots of things she had forgotten to pick up, but for the first night, it would do. Or, possibly for the first week or so, until her next pay check. Getting here and getting basic furnishings had pretty much used up her savings until then.

It was true that she was going to be getting a per diem rate from the school for this place, but what with academic bureaucracy, lord only knew how long it would be until that would actually get into her hands.

She was an adjunct professor, which was not exactly the most glamorous or well-paying position to be in. Seven years ago when she had finished her PhD in English Literature she had thought she was on track to getting a good job and making decent money. So far that hadn't been the case. Now at thirty-two she was wishing she'd skipped the PhD, gone to teacher's college and then taught high school English like her mother used to.

"I'd probably be making more money," she said to herself, looking around at the tiny space she was supposed to live in for the next eight months. "Actually, forget the 'probably'. I'd definitely be making more money."

Her old school had suddenly downsized her department and her position at the end of the last school year, leaving her scrambling to find another teaching job. This one had come up in a city a good three hours away from where she and her husband lived. She'd almost had to turn it down, because they were tied into a lease that they couldn't afford to break, but then the university had offered to fund a meagre bachelor apartment for her to live in.

Her husband Jake had to stay behind in the old place for the time being. Things were just easier for him there. His physiotherapist and doctors were nearby and the apartment was better set up to accommodate his limited mobility. He was recovering from a bad back injury in a car accident eighteen months ago, which meant he couldn't work at his job in construction. They had some insurance and disability benefits, but nothing close to what his salary had been while he was working full time.

When he had been working, her salary hadn't been as important, but now that he wasn't she was the primary breadwinner. This was going to be the first time they'd lived apart since they got married back when she was still just starting her PhD.

It definitely felt like he was getting the better end of the deal at the moment. This place was a little bachelor apartment, basically just one big room apart from the bathroom. There was a little kitchenette along one wall, and on the opposite wall from that was the door to the bathroom and a separate door to a little closet. Her desk was set up along the third wall, just under the big window that was the only nice feature about the place. Although the view from the window left something to be desired because it was only of another apartment building across the way. On the opposite wall across from the window was her futon couch, which pulled out to a bed.

It was basically the smallest place she'd lived since she was an undergraduate. But there was no point in dwelling on all that now, it was time to make the best of things.

She microwaved herself a quick dinner, ate it, and debated unpacking a few more boxes then decided she couldn't be bothered. She settled for digging a towel out of one of the boxes and hopping in the shower.

After the shower she wrapped herself in a towel and walked back out of the bathroom. She realized right away that she not only hadn't hung curtains in the window, but that she didn't have any. She only had one set of sheets that was already on the futon, and she might have another towel that she could hang up, but it wouldn't cover the whole window anyway.

"Damn it," she sighed and then shrugged. It was after dark already and there wasn't that much light coming in from outside. She could sleep without curtains for one night.

Still wrapped in the towel she sat down at her desk, not wanting to get the bed wet while she dried off. She called her husband and they talked for a while about the move and the new place. When she jokingly mentioned that she was only wearing a towel because she hadn't really unpacked he seemed interested. The conversation turned a little sexier, and Molly was hopeful he might want to have phone sex.

They hadn't made love since the accident, not because anything was wrong with his equipment, but because they hadn't been able to find a position that didn't cause him any pain. They'd experimented with mutual masturbation, but Jake seemed to find it humiliating that it was all he could do, so they hadn't even done that in quite some time.

This time he seemed to be into it, so much so that she dropped the towel and laid down on her bed. But next thing she knew he was apologizing and saying he wasn't in the mood and they were saying goodnight.

She almost threw the phone across the room, but caught herself and just dropped it on her bedside table. Her attempts to get him horny had failed on him, but they had definitely worked to get her going.

She couldn't help but think about what their sex life used to be like. Before the accident Jake was an attentive lover with an enthusiastic tongue and a nice big cock. They had made love frequently before, so adapting to a life where they hadn't at all for a year and a half had been very hard for her.

Remembering their sex life quickly turned into fantasizing about it, and before long she found herself losing the battle to keep her fingers from sliding down between her legs.

It did cross her mind that she should probably get up and at least turn off the light, but the switch was across the room, and what she was doing felt so good that she didn't want to stop.

Before too long she was in the throes of an orgasm. But almost before she had finished she started fretting again about all she had to do, and about whether Jake and she were ever going to get back their sex life.

Eventually she fell into a restless sleep.

The next evening after she got home from a long and tedious day of running around campus doing paperwork and errands there was an envelope taped to her door.

Thinking it was probably from the landlord she grabbed it and started opening it while walking in her apartment.

It turned out to be something way creepier. It was a picture. Of her. Naked and masturbating the night before. It was taken through her window from somewhere higher up. At a guess probably taken from the apartment building across from hers. You couldn't make out a ton of detail, but it was still clear what she was doing with her hands all over her pussy.

All the blood in her body felt like it was rushing to her face and she knew her cheeks were blazing scarlet. She felt dizzy and nauseous and she had to sit down but she didn't want to sit in front of her still uncovered damn window. She went into the bathroom and sat down on the floor feeling like she wanted to cry.

She was still holding the picture and she noticed something written on the back.

"Are you okay?" it said. And there was an email address written underneath the question.

Her first thought was to ignore it, to throw away the picture and pretend this had never happened. But then she thought maybe that would be riskier. Maybe not responding at all would just make this creep angry. Who knew how many more pictures they had or what they might do with them.

She thought it over for a long time, sitting uncomfortably on the bathroom tile and then decided to reply.

First she took the time to create a new email account with a fake name and info.

Then she started a new email. The subject line was, "What the hell you creep?"

The message was only one line long. "Why the hell are you spying on me? I should call the cops."

She sent that off and waited for a reply. She didn't have to wait long.

"Your window was open and your lights were on. It was after dark. I was just looking out my window and I could see you. I don't think that counts as spying."

It took a second for that to sink in but then Molly realized they were probably right. The police would probably shrug and tell her it was her own fault. She was still mad enough not to let this go even as she told herself she probably should.

"It's still rude though," she typed back. "And sending me that picture was creepy. What do you want?"

"You're right it was rude," came the reply. "I shouldn't have kept watching, but getting a chance to watch someone as hot as you masturbating? I'm sorry but I couldn't look away."

She couldn't help but feel a highly inappropriate flush of pleasure at that, but she pushed it out of her mind.

The message continued. "I saw you on the phone with someone and it looked like you were going to have phone sex but then you hung up. You looked kind of sad for a minute and then you did your own thing...I don't know I just thought maybe you needed a friendly ear?"

"So why the hell did you take my picture?" she sent.

"I was just trying to get your attention," he replied. "I know you have no reason to believe me but I only kept it long enough to print a copy to send your way and then I deleted it."

She thought about that for a minute. "I guess that could be true," she sent. "I mean you could have just taken it and kept it for yourself and it's not like I would have known. But how did you break into my building?"

"I didn't break in. I walked in. Someone held the door for me and I walked in behind them. I counted windows from the bottom to figure out what floor you were on and left you that message."

"Why?" she sent. "Are you trying to blackmail me?"

"I don't even know who you are," they replied. "How would I blackmail you? And what did you do wrong? All you did was masturbate. Even if I had kept the picture as proof, that's not a crime. Although you might want to close your blinds. Not that I mind if you don't of course."

She actually laughed when she read that and then was surprised she had. "Why was that funny? How could anything about this be funny?" she thought to herself. But even as she thought that she was typing back a response almost automatically.

"I don't have any blinds" she sent.

"Hooray!" came the reply.

She laughed again. "Yet," she sent back.

"Boooo," they replied.

This is getting weird," she thought even as she laughed again. "It's starting to feel like I'm flirting with this creep."

She was about to close the screen and walk away when a chat request popped up. They were both using the same free email site and it also supported chat.

"Tell me a little bit about yourself," it said. "Are you single? Married? None of the above somehow?"

She smiled and accepted the chat request. "Married," she said. "Didn't you see the ring?"

"That's not where I was looking," came the reply with a winking emoji.

Her computer had a webcam. Without really thinking why, she used it to take a picture of her left hand and sent it as part of the chat. "There you go," she said.

"Damn look at that rock," came the reply. "No wonder you're living in that apartment, you must have spent all your money on the ring and have none left for rent."

"This is just a temporary place. I'm here for work," she said, adding an eye rolling emoji.

"Without the hubby?" he sent. "That must suck."

"Yeah..." she started.

She found herself wanting to explain more and then had to think about why that was. Then it dawned on her. This person didn't know her at all. He had no expectations for what she was like.

All her friends kept expecting her to be the same person she was before Jake's accident. But even though she hadn't been the one to get hurt, the accident had changed her too. And the financial changes had created a social isolation that she'd never experienced before. Her friends were all in their early to mid-thirties as well, and most were established in careers that paid better than hers, or had spouses and partners who were still bringing in a full income. They took for granted going out to dinner and shows and shopping sprees, things that Molly could only rarely afford now.

Her friends still invited her to these things of course, but she was too embarrassed to explain why she often couldn't go, so she would make up other excuses. This had the effect of leading her friends to think she was being snobbish or anti-social. Her best and oldest friend from childhood had gotten married in the Caribbean eight months ago and Molly couldn't afford to go. Not being there for her friend had caused a rift that hadn't yet healed.

At a cocktail party a few months ago, she accidentally overheard a few of them calling her "boring" and "depressing" which hurt more than she could admit. She almost confronted them but couldn't bring herself to do it. But she knew that they all wanted her just get over it and be normal again. Whatever "normal" was supposed to be.

Her friends had also all heard the many details of Jake's recovery and physical rehabilitation over and over. Polite as they were, she could tell that their concern was wearing thin with the monotony and slow pace of change involved in the subject matter.

This person on the computer was a new audience. They weren't going to listen only to compare what she was like now with the person she used to be, and find the new Molly coming up short.

She found herself opening up to this guy. Not specifics of course, because that would be too risky. She didn't say where she worked or even that she had a PhD. But she told them her husband had been in an accident (she didn't say how) and what that had been like for her and how hard it was.

He was very sympathetic. He asked good questions and paid attention to her answers. They had been talking almost two hours when he said "so in some ways you've been all alone in this haven't you?" and she found herself fighting back tears because it was so true.

"Yes," she sent back.

"Well I'm happy to lend you an ear or a shoulder to cry on if you want to keep this up."

"Maybe," she sent. "If you do two things."

"Name them," he replied.

"Ok," she typed. "First, tell me what to call you?"

"Max," he said.

"Ok Max," she replied. "I'm going to stand up and look out the window. I'd like you to wave at me. If you don't look like a serial killer I might keep chatting with you in the future."

"Ok," he said. "Let me take my hockey mask off and put down my machete first."

"Ha ha," she said. She stood up, feeling nervous and excited. She looked out the window. About two floors up from her in the building across the way she saw someone waving. It was a man, mid to late twenties at a guess, brown hair, tall and a bit thin.

He didn't look threatening. In fact he was sort of cute. She waved back, then sat back down at her computer.

"Okay, you passed for now," she said. "But I have to stop and get some dinner I'm starving."

"Fair enough," he replied. "And...uh...maybe you should tell me when the next show is, just so I can make sure to shut my blinds and leave you some privacy?" This was followed by a winking emoji.

"Sorry pal," she said. "I'm not scheduled to perform tonight."

"Rats," he said. "Talk to you later."

She closed the chat window. "Okay that was a little much," she thought to herself. "The guy takes dirty pics of you without your permission and now he's your new best friend?" She shook her head and stood up.

She made herself some dinner, ate quickly and then surfed aimlessly on the web for a bit. Realizing she wasn't tired enough to sleep yet she ended up putting on some music, which lead to dancing around the apartment in a one person dance party.

She knew Max might be watching, but she didn't care. She was fully clothed. Well, mostly. After she started to get too warm - the apartment was always a little too hot so far - she did take off her jeans. But she was wearing boy short style panties and she had nice legs. "Fuck it," she thought, "this is way less than he already saw anyway."

Dancing did the trick in that she eventually tired herself out enough to call it a day and hit the sack. She slept better that night too.

The next two days were almost a repeat of the one she'd just had. Lots of errands and running around for her to do. There was ordering textbooks to do and submitting the syllabus for the three classes she was teaching for review and approval, getting a parking pass and so on. Then she got home, with no more envelopes. Each night she called Jake and talked for a while, but then ended up chatting with Max on and off for an increasingly large chunk of the night.

The third day was where things took a turn. It started badly on campus, with a bunch of negative feedback on one of her proposed teaching topics. She also got a parking ticket that she couldn't afford because it turned out she had been misinformed about what lot her parking pass actually allowed her to park in. It rained while she was running back to her car after a meeting too, and she got caught in it without an umbrella and got soaked.

When she got home she called Jake. She finally tried to bring up some of her sexual frustration with him on the phone, but he got angry at her, saying she was being unsupportive and trying to make his problems all about her.

"So you'd rather watch tv than listen to your wife have an orgasm on the phone?" she said, feeling hurt, frustrated and angry.

"That's what I need right now," said Jake. "I wish you would get off my case about it."

"Fine. I'm going to go then," she said. "Maybe I'll masturbate with the window open. I'm sure somebody else might appreciate it even if you don't give a shit."

"Whatever," he said, and he hung up.

"Fuck," she said. This time she did throw the phone, and it bounced off her mattress and fell on the floor with a loud crunch. "Fuuuuuucccckkkk!" she shouted, running over to pick it up and see if it was broken. It was still working, but now there was a crack on the screen. Which of course, she couldn't afford to fix.

She wanted to throw it again, but settled for dropping it back on the bed instead. "I should make dinner," she thought, but she couldn't be bothered. Instead she grabbed a beer from her fridge, drank it too fast, and then had another one.

She drank the second one more slowly and by the time she was finished she had a nice buzz going. Telling herself she shouldn't she opened a third one anyway.

The beer took the edge off the anger, but did nothing for the heat between her legs, which was begging for attention. Still no curtains though, she realized, looking at the big window. She considered masturbating in the shower, but there wasn't enough room to lie down and she didn't like to masturbate standing up.

She thought about lying on the floor, under the level of the window, but that didn't seem like it would be comfortable.

"I could just..." she said out loud, looking at the bed, but then shook her head. Only the beer made that seem like a good idea.

Trying to figure out what to do she sat down at her computer and noticed another chat request pop up.

It was from Max of course. "Hey what are you up to?" it said.

She sat looking at it for a few minutes, wrestling with herself, trying to convince herself she shouldn't do what she wanted to. But then slowly her hands reached out and she typed "About to go on for another show." Her hand hovered over the send button. "I can't send this," she thought. But after another moment she did send it anyway.