Page 11 of Gaze

I spent over an hour watching him as he slowly composes what is sure to be his next masterpiece. Before my eyes wander again to Miss Prozac's window, I wish I could teleport or astral project myself to pull back the curtain so I could see once and for all what was behind them. I tear my eyes away again, swinging the camera round to look at another window. Miss Torso.

Now I could see it in so much detail. Her room was illuminated. Full of more trinkets and texture that I could have dreamt of. There was a string of Christmas lights around her room that bathed it in a nostalgic soft glow. I could see her outfits, all covered in sequins, each individual one catching the light independently, shimmering around the room. She has an open closet filled with an unknown number of dresses and feather boas that just beg to be leafed through like a book, each one carrying its own story.

I watch her for hours as she smokes and slowly gets ready, watching her transform from the mask of masculinity she wears outside to the glittery goddess she really was. As I watched her head out the door to get on with her life outside the apartment I sat back, refocusing my eyes. It had gotten dark while I was watching her, it must have been several hours.

This just gave me a new sense of life, soon people would be putting their lights on allowing me to see the illuminated insides of their homes in even more detail. I licked my lips in feverish anticipation. Lighting a cigarette in satisfaction at my work.

I focus the camera on one of the families, they are sitting eating a light dinner, it looks like salad - I don't blame them for not wanting to cook in this heat. The children are squabbling, leaning over and hitting each other while the mother looks exasperated. I wonder what they are fighting about. Did the boy steal his sister's dolly or cut some of her hair when she wasn’t looking? Did the sister come and stomp on his Legos breaking his latest creation. I quickly decided whatever I was thinking was probably more interesting than the actual truth.

Next, I look into one of the widows that are normally out of my view, and while it's nice to get to see some new faces going about their day they don't grab me like the familiar ones do. A woman is lying on her couch with her dog. An elderly man and woman are sitting on deep armchairs reading the paper, each turning the page at a different rate. None of these people were doing anything interesting, no one was worth watching.

chapter

twelve

My eyes finally slide to the new window; it’s not lit but I can see movement. As my pulse quickens, I reposition the camera. I lick my lips involuntarily as I move my eye to the viewfinder.

“Fuck” I uttered under my breath.

They were back at the window, the blonde had her hands firmly planted on the desk, her back arched as, as… my mind stutters, unable to process what I was seeing. The other woman was behind her, her breasts round and perfect. I could see now she had shorter hair, just long enough to get in her eyes but it was slicked back with sweat. A single dark strand loose and swaying with the motion. They both had a light sheen across their naked bodies. I flicked my eyes further down. I could see a strap, leather I think running round her thigh. I knew what this was, what she was wearing. I had a similar one in my own bedroom. As I watched them from my darkened window I couldn't help but wish I was there with them, that it was me being bent over and taken so roughly. The details were not clear from here, even with the camera. I couldn't see the exact expressions on her face, hidden by the curtain. But I could feel the movements on my skin. As if I was the blonde woman, bent over while the dark-haired one took me from behind, unraveling me with every stroke. Long lank hair obscuring my face from the world, but not my pleasure. I watched stroke after stroke as the dark-haired woman pushed herself all the way into the blonde, I could only imagine what it felt like. How good it felt to be filled so deeply and so thoroughly to the point where pain and pleasure combine in ecstasy.

The dark-haired woman shifted slightly, adjusting her angle - whatever she did I could almost hear the scream emanating from the blonde's mouth as she let the ecstasy spill out. She leant forward, cupping the woman’s breast, resting her torso on her back. In this heat the closeness must be unbearable - stifling, suffocating, or just another form of enhanced pleasure. My own nipples tightened and strained against my cotton shirt suddenly, sensitive and tender. My own arousal deepening with every stroke I watched.

In

Out

In

Out

I couldn't stop myself, the pressure building in me from watching them was unbearable when mixed with the heat. I couldn't help but slip my own fingers into my waistband and feel my own slick wetness. The closeness of it all, like there wasn't anything between us. I couldn't remember the last time I was so wet, so turned on. I was just an onlooker here, a voyeur - as Lisa would say - no better than a peeping Tom in the bushes.

But I didn't care, the feel of my own hand had never been sweeter, I pinched my erect nipple, as I would want a lover to do to me. As I watched them, I became part of their sexual act, an unwanted third person taking pleasure from their connection. It was wrong of me, yet I couldn't stop. The more I watched them the deeper I fell into my own pleasure, I could feel myself getting close, my fingers dipping inside and coating my own desire across my clit. My head felt light and my skin grew a new layer of sweat, this time not from the unbearable heat but from my own exertion. I had let my head roll back, extending my spine, stretching muscles to extract the pleasure further from within. So close. I knew I would climax in moments.

I took one last look at the two women in the window, taking my last inspiration and fantasy as I waited for the orgasm to roll across me.

What I saw sent an ice pick of shame through my chest. When I trailed my eyes back to the window, I saw the dark-haired woman looking back at me, she hadn't stopped her movements, her actions remained the same as she defiled the blonde. But her eyes were trained on me. She knew I was watching them, she knew I was taking pleasure from their connection and yet she hadn't stopped. She hadn't gone to close the window or called the police. As our eyes met something flashed inside me, a need to continue, to complete the act while she watched. I should have stopped; I should have hidden in shame. But I did neither. Instead, I drove my fingers in deeper, taking more of me, pulling my own pleasure out of me. For her.

Then she sent me over the edge, she looked me dead in the eye, our connection solidified, no longer a couple and a stranger but three people seeking pleasure together.

My orgasm came thick and fast, I felt the pressure build in me and release before I could stop it. All the while she watched me, her rhythmic motions unfazed by my presence.

chapter

thirteen

Another few day’s pass and I continue to lose my grip on time, waking later and later in the day before falling asleep in the early hours. I split my time between the window where I sit chain-smoking for hours watching the comings and goings of people like ants in a colony, and the computer where I engage with Bite.

There is still no sign of Miss Prozac.

I haven’t seen the women from the window since that night.

The computer roars to life and I log myself straight into the private chatroom with Bite, she is almost always available when I am. As if she is waiting for me, like a snake about to swallow the field mouse.

I_BiT3: Hello Jenifer

L3NS_72: Hi