Voyeur

Every night, every morning he looks at the windows opposite, the hotel rooms on the top floor. He looks for her. For the lady often staying at this hotel, always in the rooms the top floor. Sometimes she comes twice a week, sometimes only once a month. He is addicted to her. The elegant lady with the long dark hair that always pushest he curtains aside when she enters the room, and then  undresses, almost like a reality striptease just for him, the shoes always first. She fascinates him. It drives him mad that she often wears no lingerie at all. He bought binoculars to catch a better view. He knows that she knows he is looking at her, and she knows that he knows it. It is a game, a game of seduction, a game of hunting, a game of the eternal attraction of the female to the male. He is totally hypnotized by her, there’s nothing he can do about it. Sometimes she puts on a show for him, playing with herself on the bed, making sure it is too dark to take pictures. When she falls asleep, she covers her body only partly, and he stares at her for hours. Sometimes, she wakes up in the middle of the night and sees him still watching.

She wonders what he is all about. Maybe he is a violent man, unable to reach out to women, frustrated by the commercial nature of sex with sexworkers, divorced. Surely he dreams of fucking you, maybe he dreams of raping you. Danger is part of the game, but fortunately there is a safe distance. But maybe, he is too shy to reach out to ladies, and you are the incarnation of all his dreams. Surely, he is not a happy man. She will never know, and she prefers not to know. No, it is better not to really get into contact with him. She just plays with him, like a sex toy. Women may find disgusting what he does, but men may find disgusting how she plays with him. She makes sure she leaves the hotel without him noticing. In summer, when the nights are warm, she sometimes opens the window and looks outside, with a glass of wine. She sometimes smiles when he stares at her, at her face, at her bare breasts. He never waves or smiles or anything. It never gets closer to „communication“ as this.

For him, the best part is in the morning when she opens the bathroom window and showers, deliberately longer than usual. Maybe she shaves her legs, or more. He understands, as soon as he tries to take pictures, the show is over, instantly. After finishing everything in the bathroom, she closes the window, the curtain falls, the show is over. He patiently will wait for the next one, full of desire for the elegant lady with the long dark hair, while she will forget him soon after breakfast, until her next visit.

He is watching her like in hypnosis, and she enjoys the thrill

 

Über sunflower22a

I am a mystery.
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