Jennie put the last of the boxes on the stack in the living room of her new apartment. Everything she owned: a life's collection of books, clothes, and memories, sat in a 10 by 10 space in front of her.
She thought about her childhood neighbor, a friendly older woman that had passed away when Jennie was 16. After the funeral, the woman's family had divided her possessions. They sold and donated what they could, and placed the remainder in front of the house for trash collection. This had greatly disturbed Jennie, the thought that a woman's life - her legacy, could end up as a few bags of garbage on the edge of the street.
She looked at the 20-odd boxes and realized that should she die tomorrow, she'd leave even less on the curb than the old woman next door.
Two days ago Jennie left her husband of 22 years. She should have left 21 years earlier, but stayed on for the kids. As spouses go, they didn't come much worse. She left the day after her youngest moved out of the house.
Her new home in Honolulu was small, less than 1,000 square feet. She could have afforded larger. Jennie had built a successful career as a photographer and was relatively secure. She realized early on that her alcoholic, rudderless husband would not be contributing to their family-financially or otherwise. Her childhood hobby became a way for her to support her young family. Jennie had started out doing wedding photos, mostly for friends and referrals, then began working for a small modeling agency. She had the ability to pull beauty from the most difficult subjects, and within a few years had gone freelance, her sessions commanding $500 an hour.
Jennie had picked the apartment for its incredible view, a 17th floor corner unit in an older high-rise. Kalakaua Avenue had become a forest of high-rise apartments and condos, but her building had been built in the seventies and held a waterfront spot that would never lose its view. The building had been renovated in the late 90's, the owners adding modern kitchens and bathrooms, and floor to ceiling windows.
From her living room she could see Ala Moana beach and the blue Pacific beyond. She loved watching the boats come into the marina at sunset, imagining from what adventures their passengers were returning.
The bedroom faced a neighboring building, one so close she felt that she could lean out the window and touch it. Both buildings had windows of coated glass, providing privacy during the day while allowing the beautiful Oahu sunshine to pour in. Her bedroom had a small balcony, called a lanai in the islands, with a sliding door and privacy screens in either side. Jennie had drapes installed on the door prior to moving in. She didn't feel comfortable sleeping in front of an uncovered window, especially one so large.
Jennie stayed up late unpacking. She didn't have another shoot scheduled for a week, which would give her time to get settled. She worked on the boxes until 3am before calling it quits.
She managed to find a towel and shampoo, and headed into the shower to wash off the day's work. Jennie stepped out and was greeted by a view of herself in the bathroom mirror.
Jennie had always had a nice body. The years had been kind to her. Her full, round breasts hadn't sagged, and her running regime had kept her bottom firm and taut. She had great hips, for which she was thankful. Some of her friends worked to get thin, athletic glutes. Jennie would rib them, "You know, from behind you look like 12-year old boy." She turned in the mirror, looking over her shoulder, hands on her waist. "Nice ass," she said to the woman in the reflection.
She dried herself using her only unpacked towel, wrapped her long brown hair in a turban, and headed to the kitchen. After an 18-hour day of moving, she was ready for a nightcap. Jennie rummaged through the boxes to find the bottle of scotch she had packed. She opened another box and pulled out the first glass she could find; a cut-glass tumbler she had bought years ago at a yard sale. Jennie poured three fingers of the whisky and took another long pull from the bottle, feeling the burn of the scotch hit her throat before putting it in the kitchen cabinet. She felt the whisky's warmth creep through her limbs. She hadn't felt this relaxed, this at peace, in a long, long time.
She walked back to the bedroom, nude and turbaned, glass in hand, and stood in front of the sliding door. She was curious to see what the neighboring building looked like at night, and opened the door to step out on the lanai. Remembering she was unclothed, she hesitated. It was doubtful that anyone was awake at this hour, so she slowly walked out on the lanai and peeked around the privacy screens.
All of the windows were dark, save for a few. The lit apartments were likely people getting ready for early workdays, she thought, and she looked at them one by one. She could see shadows in a few of them. A TV flickered in another.
Her eyes drifted to the apartment directly across from her, which upon her first look had been empty. Standing in the window was a man, naked from the waist down. She quickly stepped inside the bedroom and closed the door. She noticed that he was looking in another direction and hadn't seen her, so she stayed for a moment, watching him through the glass. He was close in age to her, maybe a little younger.
Between his legs hung the biggest cock Jennie had ever seen. Even from the sixty feet or so between the buildings, she could see that it reached down to the middle of his thigh. "Jesus," she said, "look at that thing." She went for another sip of the scotch, her eyes never leaving him.
The glass bumped against the window as she tilted it back, and some of the whisky dribbled over her chest. "Shit," she mumbled, and looked down to wipe the scotch off with her hand. She licked the whisky from her fingers, returning her gaze back to the man.
He was staring directly at her. She drew in a quick breath and reached to pull the curtain closed, then froze.
The man was now half-erect, his impressive cock pointing at the path between the buildings. Jennie stood motionless, watching it expand. In a matter of seconds it was twice its original length, and its massive head now pressed against the glass.
Jennie flushed, and felt herself getting wet.
The man reached down and began to slowly stroke himself, still staring at Jennie.
Jennie quickly closed the curtain and stepped back from the door, her heart pounding from her chest down to her loins.
She sat on the edge of the bed and finished the scotch in one gulp, then lay down on the bare mattress. The memory of the man's cock burned at her.
She wondered what it would be like to take something of that size. Her fingers drifted to her mound, and she began softly running them across her labia. They settled on her clitoris, and she began rubbing herself in slow circles.
Jennie imagined the man's cock on her, teasing her clit with its massive head. She curled her hand into a fist and rubbed harder, moving her hips in time with the rotations of her arm. She lifted her hips off the bed and ground her fist against the opening of her vagina, her head now filled with the vision of the man's enormous head straining to enter her.
Jennie came quickly, one fist pressed against her cunt, the other in her mouth, stifling her moans. With her ass hovering above the bare mattress, her body quivered through the orgasm before slowly lowering back onto the bed.
She woke up the next morning and went to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. She conducted a brief search for her pourover stand, but decided to walk to the corner cafe instead. She threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, plopped a baseball cap on her head, and headed for the door.
She thought about what she had seen the night before, and headed back to the bedroom. Jennie stood in front of the window, then cautiously opened the drapes a few inches, peering at the place where she had seen the man last night. His curtains were still open, but there was no sign of activity within his apartment. She closed the drapes and headed out for coffee.
