Call Me Tom

The summer’s evening was cool tonight, far less humid than it had been for the last week, and it seemed like a good night to step onto the stoop to enjoy a smoke. It was late enough to know I wouldn’t bother anyone, though that was the price you pay for apartment living, and I stood in the middle of the walkway, exhaling after each long drag. The bugs creaked and chirped in the moonlight, and as I stood there, I listened intently to the song of the night. As I looked out over the balcony, I could see each of my neighbors had closed up for the night, and not a single light peeked through the windows. If it weren’t for all the creatures stirring, it was as calm and quiet as you might expect in the secluded apartment complex.

It certainly wasn’t luxury living, but the place suited my needs. Each building stood two floors, with stairs on the either end to climb, and a wide walkway topped the doors of the floor below, giving access to the second level apartments. It reminded me of a cheap motel, the worst part having people walk by as they traipsed to their destinations. Tonight the walk was empty, and I used it to my advantage, tossing my cigarette over the side, and into the patch of grass below. As I turned toward my apartment door, I was surprised by the bright flash rushing over the blinds of my neighbor’s window, and my heart began to pound in the start of the sudden light. I hoped it wasn’t me they were coming on for, since I was only attempting to enjoy the small area allotted to me in my lease.

I was ready to call it a night, and slip back in through my door, when I heard the muffled scream of my neighbor “You now what, FUCK YOU!”

I had met the neighbor once or twice. She was a young woman, perhaps in her late twenties. She had long hair, but it was dyed, and it seemed to change color every time I had seen her. While I can’t say I knew her well, I did know I hadn’t heard her yelling before, and it gave me pause to hang around. I can admit I was being a nosey neighbor, and instead of going inside I pulled out another smoke, lighting it with a flick of the wrist. This time I stepped back, and stayed near my door. I waited to see if the light would go off again, or whether the argument would continue on. Much to my dismay, neither took place, and as I reached the end of my second cigarette, my cover story had literally gone up in smoke.

I glanced over at the window one last time, hoping for something to stop me from going in, and that was when I noticed the crack between the blind, and the edge of the window. There was enough light to make me think I could get a glimpse inside, but I wondered if it was worth the possibility of being caught. I guess I am just a deviant at heart, and I crept over to the edge, hoping for a view inside.

The blinds were off the shelf, nothing custom, and the lapse in coverage gave me a half an inch of opening. Much to my nefarious mind, I had to thank the landlord for being cheap, and the woman inside for not having the forethought to put up window dressings. I peered into the crack, bringing the interior into view. As I scanned the room, I could make out the television on the opposite wall. Underneath lay a dark wood entertainment center, something you might pick up from the local discount department store. It was covered in electronics and tchotchkes, but they were all placed there with care. I moved my eye across the room more. In the center sat a bamboo wicker style coffee table, which appeared to be a real reject from Pier 1 imports, but they sell those things to someone. Apparently I had found one of their recipients. I had to laugh at the design, I never understood how you could put a cup of coffee on the top, which rendered the construction useless in my eyes.

Taking up the L-shaped corner of the rest of my view lay a standard sectional couch, the three seats coming toward me to the window, and the loveseat portion riding the back wall of the unimpressive cookie cutter layout. The fabric of the huge piece of furniture was trying to mimic leather, but the low quality gave itself away in the worn areas, and there was no thickness you might expect from the real thing. Finally, tucked into the corner nearest the window, a tall metal post lamp stretched toward the ceiling, which was what gave the blinds such a bright wash of light. The room wasn’t a matching set, but piecemeal in the way it was all put together. It wasn’t much different than my own apartment, which I never put much into either, so I couldn’t really knock the layout, but it was all utilitarian.

The only part of the scene I really wanted to see, wasn’t actually in sight, and I had to wonder what happened to the screaming woman that had drawn my attention in the first place. I looked around the room once again, the television was on, and I figured she would be coming back at some point. With nothing to hold my view, my paranoia made me break my gaze, and I looked over the doors and window behind me, making sure no one could see me be a peeping tom. I relaxed a bit when I was sure I was unseen.

I turned my eyes back to the opening, waiting for what I hoped would be a naked woman, unaware of my prying eyes. The thought of what I could see made my dick grow, and in the absence of something to keep my attention, my mind was fast at work, replaying all those pornographic videos I had so feverishly consumed over the years. It wasn’t until she walked back into the living room my mind stopped dancing, but I was rewarded for my corrupt thoughts. She came in from the kitchen area, and to my malevolent pleasure, she pranced around in tiny shorts, and only a black lace bra covering her top.

She began to preen the couch, pulling up on the back cushion, and pushing in on the bottom, her back turned from my as she started at the loveseat. Her gorgeously long hair ran down her back, held at shoulder length by a hairband, and it swayed back and forth as she muscled the cushions into their correct positions. One by one she went down the line, and as she turned up the couch portion, her profile came into view. She was slightly tall, pale white skin, and the straps of her bra stretched as she performed her chore. She was plump in weight, I couldn’t make out any bones in her torso, and as she bent, her figure would roll over, more like a real washboard than any of those hardbody abs you might be shown in underwear ads. I didn’t mind that she wasn’t some wafe skinny girl, her plump body only lent to the curviness of her figure, and the elastic of her bra was forced to do its job as she bounced her tits down, then back up with each section of the couch.

As she bent over each position, her tiny blue shorts slid tighter over her ample ass, and each time she worked on a cushion, the fabric disappeared a little more between her cheeks.