Page 8 of Gaze

I flick on the small table lamp by the window, and it bathes my living space in an amber glow, so different from the blue light only that lit my room only minutes earlier from the computer screen. I settle down into my chair and light a cigarette, taking in a long first drag.

Several of the windows have flickering lights illuminating the walls, a tale tell sign that they are watching TV. Miss Prozac is lying on her bed again; she is barely moving but I see the occasional flick of a wrist as she changes the channel on her own set. Mr. Songwriter’s window is dark, he’s out with his guitar no doubt, trying to find his fame and fortune and a way out of the small box he lives in.

My eyes finally drift down to the new widow and its occupancy, I have been savoring this one till last. Like a child at Christmas saving the biggest present until the end. What I see takes me a second to understand. But when I do, my mouth runs dry and my libido awakens.

Looking lazily around I see movement in the dark ground floor window, I lean closer trying to make out the shapes in the near blackness. When my eyes adjust and I see what is unfolding, my breath catches. A woman, naked, her back to the window, blond hair cascading down her back. She must be sitting on a desk or something to be that high up as to see the top curve of her ass. Her movements are rhythmic and hypnotic, every now and again I catch a flash of the side of her breast, but it is impossible to make out any more form here.

I reach over and clicked off my desk lamp, plunging my space into the same darkness as her, after a few seconds my sight improves. Now I can make out a hand against her breast, the fingers placed over the erect nipple, pulling and twisting - I let out a small moan in pleasure at the mere thought. The very idea of being that woman with someone paying that much attention to my flesh was alluring, stimulating even. Her movements became faster, more desperate, her climax evident even from this distance.

I blink.

Shocked with myself for prying on this intimate moment, a moment of naked vulnerability I unknowingly watched. Would she have wanted me to? Would she have consented for anyone to watch her be stripped so bare? The thoughts were pulled from my mind as a new movement in the space caught my attention. Another face, pale against the darkness, rose from between her legs, its feminine features taking me by surprise.

It’s not that I haven’t seen other lesbians before, I have been to bars and clubs, nodded at fellow women who share the tell-tale tell signs. I even watched the odd pornographic movie, but they were always designed for a man's pleasure and I felt very little. I had been with multiple women over my lifetime, so why was I so shocked to see two women in the window?

I tear myself away, taking myself off to bed to try and process my thoughts. But lying under the thin sheet, naked, my mind had other ideas. All I could do was think of the ecstasy on display in the window. It wasn’t long before I felt my own hand drift down between my legs, feeling the dampness of my own hair only heightens my arousal. I play with myself, running my fingers through the short dark tendrils slowly inching closer to my clit, catching it every now and again sending a wave of electricity into my core.

After several minutes I couldn’t stop myself any longer and I reached to the nightstand and pulled open the drawer fumbling inside. My hand finding everything but the little pocket rocket I wanted. Lisa and I had spent several fun shopping trips in the village purchasing different indecent items, but the little Doc Johnson Pocket Rocket was a personal favorite of mine. I like to take it on longer business trips to deal with any urges that might arise. I finally feel the cool plastic against my fingers and pull it out the drawer.

For a moment I think about the silicon cock in the living room and how I want to try it out. I chase that thought away as quickly as it comes to me. I don't have the energy to hobble and get it from the desk, and I want this done fast.

I twisted the base and the device rumbled to life, shaking in my hand I moved it lower to between my legs. The first jolt when the plastic makes contact with my aching clit causes a moan to fall out my mouth as my back arches.

I build a slow rhythm, roaring the vibrator around my clit, my cunt aches to be filled but I don't have the patience to find the dildo in the drawer next to me, I build myself faster towards the climax. It’s not unsatisfying, but I wouldn't call it my most spectacular orgasm either. It delivers the relief I need as I roll over, throwing the pocket rocket somewhere into the drawer and settle myself down for another sticky night of airless sleep.

chapter

nine

Lisa comes to visit again.

I’ve lost track of the days.

I know there is still food in the fridge, but I don't think I am eating at regular meal times any more. She tuts at me and goes about putting all new containers in the fridge and freezing them for me to eat. Steve is right, I don't deserve her.

She does my washing and makes us dinner, all while I stare out the window. The couple opposite is having an argument and I can't quite read their lips but it looks like he did something and she’s unhappy about it.

“Jen…” Lisa's voice cuts across my own thoughts and for a moment I had forgotten she was even here. I pull my eyes away from the argument, still unresolved and turn to see Lisa standing with her hands on her hips.

“Did you hear anything I said?” She asks, it's not an accusation, there is too much care in her voice.

“No sorry” I say sheepishly

“Why won’t you just come and stay at mine, there is so much more space” She sounds desperate in her plea. I wonder how much I have missed.

“I like where I am now” I shrug.

“No, you want to keep looking out that window like a peeping tom.” She points at the window as if it’s a person with feelings, that it might be able to hear her accusation and argue back.

“I'm not a peeping tom” I furrow my brow in annoyance, she doesn’t understand, she couldn’t possibly understand. “I’m just looking out the window Lisa, watching the world go by - where is the harm in that?”

“But I have so much more space, and a garden you can sit in and enjoy the weather” She’s grasping at straws, she knows she’s losing the argument.

“But I’m happy here, I don't want to change.” There I said it, I don't want to go, however trapped I feel in these walls I don't want to be anywhere else. I don't want to leave the people; I like watching their lives unfold around me.

“This is the problem Jen, you don't want to change anything” She doesn’t raise her voice, I am not sure she is even capable of shouting in anger, but the hurt is there, I can hear it. I think back to the handful of times we have argued over the years, nothing major bickering really. But this feels different, it’s charged and dry like a powder keg.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” I shoot back, but I know exactly what she is talking about, she’s been wanting us to move in together for months.