At the end of the day, I was intending to close the blinds in my bedroom and so I moved towards the window. I live in a third floor apartment and noticed that the old four-floor house across the road was all in darkness apart from an upper window facing towards me. It was a full-length window, down to the carpet level. I had the blind-closing cord in my hand but then noticed movement in the room opposite. Without moving myself, I watched as a woman came into view and took off her dress. She unbuttoned it down the front and let it drop, so that she could step out of it. Underneath, she was dressed in a long white bra, into her waist; and a sort of white full brief that also came up to her waist. But I could tell they were two parts; not a single piece of underwear. She had no tights or leggings or other cover on her legs. I judged her to be in her 30s, going from her hairstyle and the way she moved.
At that moment, a truck came down our little road with its headlights full on. They didn't point up to our level but the whole road width was suffused with light and the woman quickly looked up and then withdrew from the window. After the truck passed, she came back into view and stared across at my window before grabbing a curtain and flicking it across half of her own window. I stayed at my window, hoping to see more of her but she didn't reappear, so I pulled on the cord and closed the blinds.
Those few seconds of an undressed female had a big effect on me. I'd been living in that apartment about 3 months, having moved to that town for a new job and to recover from a failed relationship. Actually, my ex had been calling me from time to time; I supposed she was trying to re-awaken our friendship but I was done with it. Even so, I was beginning to feel lonely and short of feminine company, so this glimpse started my juices stirring.
Two days later, as I parked my car after work, the same woman came up to me; I didn't know where from, and spoke to me, "Where you watching me that other night?" She had a slightly foreign accent.
I thought to myself, "Oh god; she's going to make a complaint" and so I lied a little.
"No. I just happened to be at my window. Closing the blind. Did I startle you? I'm sorry."
She took a step towards me and smiled broadly, "That's OK. I've been watching you for weeks, anyway," and she giggled.
I was taken aback and couldn't reply except to ask, "Why? Have I done something wrong?"
"Not at all. I was seeing you moving in and wondered if you had company; but now I see you have not. Would you like a coffee or something, when you dropped off your bag?"
No one would say, "No thanks" in that situation, so I replied, "Yes, thank you. I'll come across in half an hour. Will that be OK?"
"Is great, see you then," she smiled again went into her gateway; and waved at me as she got to the door.
Thirty minutes later, I'd got changed into comfortable casual clothes although I made sure that I was wearing my firm speedo-type underwear. They make me feel strong to be well-held in place and smooth over my bottom. I rang her bell and she came all the way down from her third-floor apartment in the converted old house.
She opened the door and stood back to let me in, but then put a hand on my arm and pulled me to give me a quick kiss on my cheek. I noticed that her other hand was cupping under her breast and she noticed that I had seen the gesture. She left the hand there under her breast for a second or two and smiled at me, looking into my eyes.
"Come up," she said and nodded her head towards the stairs. I followed and watched her as she ascended. I noticed the smooth globes of her bottom and perhaps just a hint of the edges of her tight briefs underneath. And the shapely thighs in leggings; and her waist; and her athletic movements. My interest was growing, shall we say? I mean my erection was developing inside my Lycra underwear. She looked good from this angle climbing the steps within my hand's reach of her figure.
Her apartment door was ajar and she pushed it to let me through first. I turned round once inside and saw that one hand was on the door lock, but the other was pressed on her groin, with fingers curling underneath towards her labia; through the tight leggings. Then she locked the door behind us. She pointed towards a sofa and it was then I realised that this was the room opposite my apartment, and I could just see my own window. I sat down and so did she, right up against me, with her thigh rubbing against mine.
She put her hand on my thigh and asked, "Coffee?"
"Yes please," I replied, using all my learnt and traditional English politeness.
She giggled, "You English. You have such manners. I shall get it." She went to her kitchen, leaving me to look around for a minute or so.
On her return, she placed the tray of cups and sugar on a little table near us; before resuming her position next to my left thigh.
"You live here alone, yes?" she asked and, before I could reply, "So do I also. Since ever I am coming here." She looked straight into my eyes with a little smile.
"Yes," I replied and then it occurred to me that we hadn't exchanged names, "What is your name. Please."
"Ah yes," as if she'd forgotten something, "I am Anya. I come from here from Hungary. My name is meaning Mother." And she giggled again.
