Window Lady

The rain is pouring outside like mad. The street is empty of walking pedestrians except for moving automobiles. Claps of thunder echo across the dark underbelly of the sky. It’s been pouring like this since the new week began.

It is past eight in the evening. Soft music is coming off the little radio by the head of my bed but my mind is barely hearing it. I am at my usual position by my bedroom window with a tall glass of Johnny Walker in my hand waiting for her to arrive. A month has almost gone by since I started watching her, through this same window, of course. I don’t even bother going out on a lonely female hunting night with my work pals anymore. What the hell, I doubt if they’d understand why.

Already my body nerves are up and wired. You’d think I’m under the influence of a narcotic if you see me right now, but it’s not like that – I don’t even drink much and I’ve always been scared of a needle – but anytime I see that lady doing her thing …

She lives in the twin apartment complex across the street from mine.

It is a three-storey cream-coloured building and we both live on the top floor (the top floor with a best view, as the Building Manager calls it) with our room facing each other. Well-trimmed elm trees like transit soldiers on leave stand in front of the sidewalk of both buildings with their branches nearly over-shrouding the road, giving the avenue a sort of distinguished aplomb. Though the rent is staggering, but I still love the place. I sip my drink and continue to wait.

Several cars have long driven past and some have stopped in front of the building but neither of them carried the lady I seek. For a second I begin to contemplate failure: perhaps she isn’t coming back this night … or maybe she already has sneaked into the building without me noticing. Still her room is dark; there is no one there, I’m sure of it. I continue my watch.

A car has just stopped father down the street. A taxicab. I can’t see the person coming down from it because of the beam of its bright lights, but I’m very much patient. Once more my heart begins to beat when my eyes fall on a pair of red high-hilled sandals partly covered by a yellow rain slicker jacket. The taxi soon moves further down the street away from the avenue, and then I get a good picture of the visitor.

It’s her!

I can barely control my happiness; feverish excitement courses all through my veins. It is really she. Her hair is hidden beneath the hood of the rain slicker and though I can barely make out her face from over here, I can still very much tell that it is her.

I watch her look down both sides of the street before she walks hurriedly towards her building’s entrance. Her handbag, also a matching colour as her sandals hangs across her right shoulder. She says something to the young man outside manning the door entrance (probably wishing him goodnight) and pushes through the revolving glass doors and enters the warmth of the building away from the annoying rain.

I quickly gulp down the last of my drink and hurry over to the small bar in the sitting room to get a refill. I’m so excited I have trouble steadying my hands. I succeed in spilling part of the drink on the carpet before going back into the room.

I switch off the bedroom lights and go back to my former position by the window. Not more than two minutes have gone since I left the room, for that I am glad. I don’t want to miss seeing her entrance. I sip my drink, feeling the liquor swirl in my mouth before sinking down into my throat. Intoxicated I now am. But is it from the drink or from the rising anticipation of waiting for the lady, I don’t know.

A few minutes pass by before I notice a thin appearance of light appear by the edge of the lady’s door and continue to widen till her dark silhouette shape stands between the room and the passageway behind her from where the light comes from. She closes the door behind her and switches on the lights (for the hundredth time I’m glad she never draws her curtains before leaving) and goes into her room to switch on the lights there as well.

I watch her stand beside her bed – just like before – and take off her rain slicker and the rest of her dress. She is nimble and delicate like a nun taking off her habit. She’s wearing lacy lingerie inside. Black and sexy – it matches entirely with her sultry figure. My eyes are as wide and sharp as an owl as I watch her raise her leg on the edge of the bed and unclasp her knee-high stocking. I watch as she unrolls it down her thigh till it comes off her feet. She does the same to the other one as well before taking off the entire lingerie outfit.

My glass of wine is already empty and I throw it behind my back and hear it smash on the floor, but I don’t pay it any attention. My eyes and all my thoughts are absolutely fixed on the beauty across the street from me. I already have an erection. I lick my lips continuously while I lean forward at my window.

I watch her stand in the middle of her room totally naked. She places her arms akimbo and flexes her body around while she glances behind herself at a tall mirror by the wall. She loosens her hair; my eyes follow it as it falls like water behind her back. She swings it back and forth while she continues to admire herself and starts up a slow dance. My erection is getting to breaking point and I gently begin to stroke it. I begin to imagine a hundred ways of making love to her, if only I can reach out and call her …

She does a few ballet-like steps at the same time runs her hands like a sultry gypsy dancer from her hair down to her neck over her ample size breasts and down past her navel towards the little bush surround her pubic region. Her legs slide open wider on the rug as she continues her sexy dance. I am standing here totally captivated out of my mind as I watch her wiggle and shake her beautiful bum unknowingly at me and I as well speed up my hand groping up and down on my penis.

I notice her lips moving as she goes closer to the mirror never letting up on her dance. She puts a finger in her mouth and pulls it out like one would pull a Popsicle sweet; her face reaching into a warm glow of ecstasy as she continues jerking her other hand in and out of her crotch. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but in my mind’s ear I pretend she’s talking at me. She is telling me in soft sexy whispers not to come too soon as she too won’t come without me. I reply her I won’t.

I watch her arch her back as if she is dancing to the sensuous charm of an Indian flute. Her eyes and lips still talking at the mirror while her hand jerks in and out from between her legs. Slowly she falls down on the rug and spreads her legs up and wide to the far corners of the room and speeds up her finger jerking; her face writhes in a mask of moaning pain mixed with ecstatic joy as she hurries herself to orgasm; her other hand fumbles her breasts.

I notice all this and speed up my own jerking too. My breath comes in gasps, sweat falls down on my face and my eyes bulge out with wanton excitement as I watch her unfurl herself into an orgasm and squeeze herself into a naked ball, her body covered in sweat. She unfurls herself and lies there for a while gasping. Her hair once lush to stare at now lies scattered. I watch her chest heave for breath. A minute later she gets up and goes over to open her closet and takes out a bathrobe from the side. She puts it on and goes into the bathroom. It is over. I go into my bathroom and finish up masturbating into the toilet bowl. I flush and dry myself up with a towel before turning off the light and going to sleep.

I wake up early in the morning hoping without hope to beat the city’s traffic. The rain of yesterday has long stopped falling and the sun is already out. I notice the broken glass on the floor and go into the kitchen to find a broom and a dustpan to collect it. Later I go into the bathroom for a quick shower.

I would have loved to get some breakfast before leaving but I know I would then be very late. I get dressed up and I’m about leaving when the phone by the bedside table begins to ring. I wonder who it might be before picking it up. I say hello into the mouthpiece.

“Hello there,” a light female voice replies me.

“May I know who’s calling?”

“I think you do.” The voice says; I am now confused.

“This is your window lady. You’ve been watching me from across the street for sometime now.”

The realisation immediately dawns on me and I am both shocked and confused of what to say. I move towards my bedroom window and look out. There she is standing by her balcony, still wearing her robe staring straight at me with a phone by her ear. I stare back at her, too dumbfounded to say anything. I notice that she is smiling.

“I know you’ve enjoyed much of what you’ve seen and now I was wondering if there was any way that the both of us could meet.”

THE END