Woman in the Window


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A ForbiddenFiction Story
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Mature Content

Contains explicit sexual or violent content.

The woman was a quick, whimsical movement from the corner of his eye, and he was helpless not to look. And look. Stan, a failed writer who’d lucked out on an editing job, soon finds his home life turned into something from Amsterdam’s Red Light district: his luscious neighbor has begun performing obscene and tantalizing acts, visible through her bedroom window. Stan has a front-row seat. Unfortunately, like most things too good to be true, it is. (M/F)

Short Story (9,000 Words)
Publication Date: April 27, 2012
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Stan froze, though he hadn’t been moving. A giddy unease flooded over him, as with anyone who finds themselves witnessing something of note. Unfortunately, it was soon cancelled by a strict sense of reprimand: he was spying, spying, on an Innocent Woman, him now the pervert villain of a thousand Hollywood thrillers, deserving of whatever pain and humiliation the screenwriter could regurgitate. And what if Misty, his wife, dropped in just now, to bring him some tea or a beer or just shoot the shit? Both being thirty-five, they were far from newlyweds, but by no means beyond jealousy. Yet, he did not look away.

He was looking, still, when the brunette abandoned her paperback and went to town, cocking a silky knee and using both hands, the tiny panties pulled to one side. Her tongue sought the air, parting adorable red lips, and her eyes squeezed shut. As she built rhythm, she went on her side and parted her legs fully, toward the window, as if to give Stan a better look—which he got. He was denied nothing as she spread herself into inventive configurations, bucking against her imaginary lover, her midriff rolling in tidal pulses. Her blouse opened to bare, animate breasts, the nipples hardened dark, a hand itinerating between them and other erogenous zones. Her climax was violent and unrehearsed, that of a woman who believes herself alone.

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