Woman in the next building opened her blinds this morning. T shirt and underwear. I was out smoking. She looked out at the morning sun kissing the trees. Surveyed the world for a moment. I was in the parking lot shooting lasers into her crotch. Scanning the slit of her skinny cunt like the Terminator, for later use. She looked down and saw my Kubrick stare. Neglected cigarette dangling. Recoiled in horror.
This is the second window shot I’ve got in a week. Another girl, same building, left her blinds open while lounging in a black bra on the couch. Her tits were…. there is no word for them. I saw the face of God. She saw me looking. There was a second of direct eye contact. I kept looking. I couldn’t not. Finally pried myself away, went back inside. Then I went out again. I’d remembered there was a recycling bin to be brought in. Thank you Lord for this luck. They had shut the blinds. “They” because they’re a couple; the guy was with her now. They shut the blinds but their dog has chewed off half the slats. Big gaps of visible space. They were laying on the couch entwined. The girl and her nice boobs facing outward. I looked again. They didn’t see me. Eyes on the TV. I looked and looked.
Nice people. I don’t think they’d get mad. And if they did, fuck ’em. If you are naked in a window I’m going to look. I’m not going to pull out opera glasses, set up a pup tent and camp out. But I am going to look a beat too long. I am not going to nervously look at the ground after, admitting transgression. There’s an art to leering at women, they say. Not getting caught. Well I don’t give a shit if I get caught.
I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. But yes, I’m looking at your tits. Long enough that you will know. I’m looking at your ass, your crotch, straight into your pussy if it’s out. Sorry. But I’m not going to stop. Seeing that half second of panty-clad cooch, knowing it’s all musky and hot in the dawn– this is a million times more erotic than anything, in an age when every conceivable kind of porn is out there easy and free.
I think you are beautiful. I am not looking at it to gross you out, or scare you. I don’t want to hurt you. Well, OK– I kind of want to break in, hold my hand over your mouth and bend you over your kitchen counter and fuck you hard until I fill you with my seed while you cry and try to bite through my palm. Which is technically hurting you. But I don’t– I don’t really want that. That’s just some dark reptilian recess of my mind. What I actually want is to look at you long enough to memorize what the outline of your twat looks like. Savor the image when I’m masturbating. That’s all. You need that extra beat because otherwise your mind loses images while you beat off. God made us broken, in other words. So: sorry, but, I need to stare. So my dick’s testimony will be admissible in court.
Let’s not make a big deal out of it. I’ll see you on the street. We nod, friendly, like it never happened. Maybe I hold eye contact a second too long. Then you beckon me over and “present” to me like a baboon and we rut like filthy monkeys in the neighbor’s rosemary patc– no! Control yourself, man. We’re in a god damn civilization here.
Half naked in the window. Daisy dukes on the street with the fat-mottled bottom of your ass hanging out. Yoga pants pressing your cuntflaps into sharp relief. Loose low cut tops that let slip a half inch of nipple when you lean over to hand me my change, open toed shoes with toenail polish chipped like a little girl after a day at the beach… you drive me crazy, you god damned women. But please, please: