A woman, a man, a window. With knowledge and consent. Explicit from 18.
Tobias and I had lived across from each other for two years without ever speaking. We had seen each other often — on the street, at the bakery, once in the elevator of his building when I dropped off mail for my mother, who lived two houses away. We had nodded. Nothing more. But that nod was always accompanied by a look that searched for something — something I couldn’t name myself.
My third-floor apartment had a large window facing the street. His second-floor apartment across the way had an even bigger one. Between us lay a Viennese alley, six meters wide. We could see into each other’s apartments when the curtains were open, which was often the case for me, and always for him. I knew he saw me. I knew he caught my body through the window when I walked around in my underwear. And I knew that, just like me, he enjoyed those looks without ever saying a word.
In August, when it was hot and no one wanted to close the curtains because it would only get hotter, we inadvertently lived our lives in front of each other. I saw him cooking, I saw him on the phone, I saw him coming out of the bathroom naked. His body was wiry, with a light dusting of hair on his chest that trailed down to his stomach. I sometimes saw him standing at the window, hand in his pocket, and I knew he was watching me as I lay on my couch, legs slightly apart, wearing only a thin dress. He saw me, I was sure, seeing similar things.
Neither of us made anything of it. It was a kind of politeness between us. But at night, when I was alone and the heat kept me awake, I thought about his hands, his mouth, the way he moved. I imagined him touching me, his fingers gliding over my skin, his mouth closing around my nipples. I got wet just thinking about it, my cunt starting to throb, and I had to masturbate to fall asleep.
On a Thursday in September, the doorbell rang. I was alone in the apartment — divorced for two years, wearing an old t-shirt and pajama pants that evening. I opened the door. It was Tobias.
“Excuse me.” His voice was deeper than I had imagined. I felt my heart race.
“Hello.” I leaned against the doorframe, letting my gaze slide over him. He wore jeans that hugged his thighs and a light shirt open at the collar. His beard was trimmed, his hair slightly tousled.
“We’ve known each other as neighbors for two years without ever talking.”
“That’s right.”
“I wanted to get something awkward off my chest.” He looked embarrassed, which suited him. That embarrassment made him human, tangible. I felt my body react to his presence — my nipples hardened, a slight shiver ran down my back.
“Go ahead.”
“I look into your apartment. I try not to stare. But I see. And I think you look into mine too. I wanted us to say it out loud so we don’t spend two more years pretending we don’t see.” His eyes searched mine. He was nervous but determined.
I thought it over. I wondered if I should find this embarrassing. I didn’t. Instead, I felt a hot rush between my legs. The thought that he had seen me, that he had seen me naked, maybe in moments when I was touching myself, made me horny. I opened my legs slightly, unconsciously, as if my body was offering itself.
“You’re right.” My voice came out hoarse.
“What do we do about it?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it again. I said what came to mind in that moment: “Tobias.”
“Yes.”
“Would you like something to drink?”
“Yes.”
We drank wine. On my couch. He told me about himself — he worked as a programmer from home, which is why I saw him so often — and I told him about myself — translator, also from home, which Tobias had guessed. We talked for an hour. It was surprisingly easy. But as we spoke, we kept looking deep into each other’s eyes, and I felt the air between us thicken, an invisible tension building.
I saw his gaze on my lips. I saw him swallow as I lifted my glass and the red wine wet my lower lip. I knew he desired me. And I desired him with an intensity that surprised me. My thong began to moisten. I could feel the heat radiating from my cunt.
Then, around eleven, he said: “I’d better go. I’ve kept you up long enough.”
“Tobias.”
“Yes.”
“If you look through the window again tonight — watch.”
He looked at me. He nodded slowly. His eyes grew darker, deeper. I saw his Adam’s apple move up and down.
“You too.”
He left. I cleared the glasses. My hands were shaking. I was wet, my cunt almost dripping. I stood in front of the window. The night was clear, the moon shining. I looked over at his, waiting half a minute. He appeared — he had changed clothes, wearing a black t-shirt that emphasized his arms. He stood at his window. He looked at me.
I started to undress. Slowly. In front of the window. I knew he saw every move I made, and that made me even hornier. I pulled off the t-shirt. I wore nothing underneath. My breasts fell free, heavy, with hard nipples silhouetted against the window light. I saw his mouth open. I saw his hand go to his pants.
I pulled off the pajama pants. My thong underneath — black, a thin strip of fabric — stayed on. I stood naked at the window except for that. I turned slowly, so he could see my back, my ass. I knew my ass was round and firm, and I knew he desired it. I leaned forward slightly, making the thong tighten between my ass cheeks. I could almost hear him gasp.
Tobias stood at his window. He had taken off his t-shirt. He was leaner than I expected. But his chest was well-shaped, with a light dusting of hair that trailed down to his navel. He had one hand on his stomach, then lower. He opened his pants. His cock sprang out — big, thick, with a dark glans glistening in the moonlight. My breath caught. I wanted to feel him inside me, that cock now resting in his hand.
We watched each other. I didn’t sit down — I stood. I placed my hands on my
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