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A Room with a View

By: WmForrester



With the help of her friends, National Nude Day gives Ruth back her memories by restoring her view.

The only thing that Ruth liked about the room she shared with Dorothy at the nursing home was the view. If it wasn't for the view, she wouldn't be happy here at all. Everything was too new, too small, too white, too antiseptic, and too cheaply made. Unlike her house, a 100-year-old old English Tudor styled cottage with original windows and woodwork, hardwood floors, a slate roof, a garden oasis out back, and colorful, fragrant flowers in front, her room held no such charm or character.

It was just a room, albeit with a view that admittedly was so much better than the view she had at home of her familiar street. If she was to trade one for the other, her house for this nursing home room, perhaps, she received the better end of the deal by having this view. Perhaps, it's not so bad being here after all. 

Where so many of the busybodies preferred a room in the front of the nursing home, one that overlooked the entrance for them to monitor visitors, they needed that view to give their empty lives meaning by feeding their gossip with a purpose. Perhaps, by living vicariously through the freedom of those who were able to freely come and go, they didn't feel as she did, as a prisoner on death row waiting to die.

Ruth preferred, instead, the inactivity and the quiet of the rear of the building. Willingly not wanting to be part of the nosey group of elders with their inane talk and their childish gossip, she didn't mind keeping to herself. She read and knitted her time away while happily humming and enjoying her view. 

"I'm not here to socialize," she'd look up from her knitting and say with a smile to anyone who asked her why she seldom left her room. At first sight, she was a little, old lady seemingly so pleasant and charming, only what she'd say next was unnerving. "I was left here to die."

Then, there were those residents who preferred rooms closer to the dining hall or the recreation room so that they wouldn't have to walk as far when they wanted to eat or recreate, which seemed all the time with many of the residents them favoring the former over the latter. Finally free of the responsibilities that came first with raising children and then with helping to raise grandchildren, many of the other residents reverted and were so much like children themselves in the way they enjoyed and took full advantage of all the nursing home had to offer by making friends, playing cards and board games, and watching movies and laughing, almost as if it was a girls' and boy's club.

Ruth wanted none of that. She was beyond the pretenses of making friends and playing games. She was depressed with a sadness that only her view could make better.

"My life ended when my children left me here to rot," she'd tell anyone who'd listen. "Now that I'm here, I'd rather just be left alone in peace with my view," she'd say turning away from them to look out her window and rebuffing the advances of anyone trying to coax her from her room.

She was glad her room was away from the noise of the gossip and inane conversations of the other residents. She tired of listening to how they exaggeratedly remembered or how they boastfully imagined their lives were before they were forgotten about and discarded here by those who didn't love them enough to make a committed sacrifice to care for them. She carried the sadness for them that they chose not to burden themselves with, a sadness that would make them more like her and a depression that would make them unable to get them through their days without medication.

"If your lives were so great before your children put you here to die and if you were so loved," she'd say to those, after a while, who endlessly bent her ear with the same mundane conversation about how wonderful their children were. "Then, why are you here?"

Like an echo that reverberated across a serene lake and that grew louder as it traveled further, the words suddenly and shockingly shattered the quiet calm so much like breaking glass.

"Then, why are you here? Why are you here? Why are you here?"

Those who heard Ruth utter those words were unable to give her an honest answer without having to confront their worst fears. They were here because they were no longer useful. They were here because they were too much of a burden. They were here because they weren't loved enough. They were here because it was easier for their relatives to put them away in a place where they wouldn't have to deal with them and with the guilt they created and carried with them 24/7. They were here because of any and all of those reasons and it was only when they didn't think about why they were here that they were able to happily exist without being consumed by the sadness and depression that consumed Ruth. 

The other residents making friends and the activities that the nursing home provided, kept most of the residents occupied and entertained enough that they didn't miss their families. Not so much that she missed her daughter and son, Ruth missed being independent. She missed her house, her friends, and her neighborhood. Yet, at least she had this view.

After a while, easier to avoid her than to confront her, those who sought out Ruth would rather let her be alone with her view than to confront their sad existence and answer Ruth's question of, Why are you here? Like wilting flowers without water, abandoned without love, appreciation, respect, and attention, they were all left alone amid strangers to linger and to die. Yes, there were some who blossomed being in an environment of their own, but too many of the residents withdrew and languished here. Ruth was one of the lucky ones. Had she not had her special view, she would have been much like many of the others depressed and ready to die.

Where her room was situated on the second floor, at the end of a long corridor, and in the back of the building away from everything and everyone, it was as quiet as a five star hotel, only not nearly as luxurious or accommodating. Clean and Spartan was more the appropriate description of her room and because of that it always appeared tidy and never cluttered.

"I resent being dumped here," she admitted to Dorothy, her roommate. "After working so hard to get my life in order and my house in the way I wanted it, this place is a sad punctuation to the end of my full life. I'm so sad, so lonely, and so hurt. If it wasn't for my view," she said suddenly preoccupied in looking out her window while talking and with her words drifting away with her attention, "I'd hate being here."

As far away as she could get from the rest of the old people, a constant reminder that at 83-years-old, she was old, too, Ruth preferred the solitude and the privacy her room with a view gave her. Had her room not had a window with the special view she had, it would just be another room and she didn't think she could tolerate being here. Without this view, her room would feel much like a prison cell. Yet, her view was not appreciated by all. Many who looked out her window saw nothing but overgrown bushes, tall grass, and trees with a lake in the distance. Ruth saw so much more than that. Ruth saw memories.

"Before this facility was converted to a nursing home, it was a private hospital for the mentally ill," she enjoyed telling Dorothy over and again. "Tucked far back on a high hill in the forest in a serene setting, it once had landscaped lawns, dozens of beds of colorful flowers, a grove of fruit bearing trees, and a manmade lake. The grounds were so beautiful."

"The way that it looks now," said Dorothy, "overgrown instead of lush, it's difficult for me to imagine how it once looked."

Becoming animated with the thoughts of visiting her mother during the time her Mom resided here, Ruth smiled at her friend.

"When escorted by an orderly, there were numerous pathways that those non-violent, well behaved, and nearly cured residents could take to walk down to the water to feed the ducks or just enjoy being out in the sunshine. It was so Heavenly peaceful that you'd never know it was a hospital for the mentally ill. Looking out over the valley below, it was a scenic oasis. It was my Garden of Eden," she'd say clutching her hands to her chest.

Perhaps embarrassed by her relaxed modesty back then, Ruth left out the good part of the story. Before there was a National Nude Day and before she was even born and before she matured to become a beautiful young woman and after she had, these grounds were a depository for the forbidden. Through the gay nineties, the progressive nineteen hundreds, the roaring twenties, the depressed thirties, the warring forties, the space age fifties, the changing sixties, and the modern seventies, these were the grounds where people gathered to lose their inhibitions and remove their clothes.

It was on these wooded and secluded paths that she'd take her lover, Robert, before he was drafted in the Army to serve his tour of duty in World War II. They came here again when he was on leave before shipping out to France. Unable to keep their hands and lips off one another, they were so in love.

The hospital grounds were such an idyllic place that it added a magical ambience to their romantic interlude. It was here that they stripped off their clothes and explored one another's bodies for the first time and several times thereafter. She'd take him in her hand before taking him between her legs and later in her mouth. He touched her where no man has ever touched her before or since. Reserved in her thoughts and private in her feelings, always guarded for fear of anyone learning her secrets, she never shared any of that with anyone, not even with her friend, Dorothy.

Still a virgin when she met Robert, she wasn't ready to make love, yet, even with him. She was saving herself for that special someone who she hoped was him, the one who she'd marry. Finally, after nearly three years, she submitted to his lust and to her love. It was here that they celebrated his return from war by finally going all the way. It was here that they vowed their love and faithfulness before making the same vow in the church at their wedding before family and friends.

After writing all those love letters and saving every one of his love letters in a shoebox beneath her bed, he had become that special someone and she was glad that she had saved her virginity for him. He had proposed to her when he was in France and she was forever promised to him. So glad that he returned safely home to her, after going so long without touching and kissing him, there was nothing that she'd now and forever deny him. 

"Robert, Rob, Bob, Bobby," softly saying every incarnation of his name over and again soothed her soul. She'd silently say his name, as if reciting her nighttime prayer or chanting a relaxing mantra while knitting. "Robert, Rob, Bob, Bobby."

She loved his name and the sound of it in the way it just flowed from her mouth and fell from her lips before kissing and kissing him. She said it so softly and so quickly that it was impossible for anyone who heard her endlessly recite his names to discern what it was she was saying. She remembered as if it was yesterday, every morning, she'd awaken him with a kiss and a hug.

"Robert, you're breakfast is ready. It's time to get up for work." And then after he left, she'd sleep in his spot for a bit before getting up again to start her day.

Much like the passing of time with the flow of it following the long lifeline she possessed in her palm, the meandering river has since taken over the manmade lake with a multitude of tributaries that stock it with fish and feed it with nutrients. To Ruth, her view of the landscape was still beautiful, albeit lushly overgrown. With the encroachment of the forest floor and the hundreds of rotted and fallen trees, nature had reclaimed much of the cleared land and manicured lawn as forest. Times have changed not only the landscape but also her. Now, in the winter of her life, she was cold with aloneness and loneliness and bitter for the loss of her deceased partner in life, her lover, her friend, her husband. 

Although the nursing home owned the grounds, the owner of the nursing home didn't feel the need to beautify the forest with manicured lawns, a multitude of flower beds, and fruit bearing trees, as did the mental hospital before. The undertaking to clear the overgrown land and then to maintain it was too costly of a proposition to even consider. Besides, most of his residents were more interested in what was happening within the four walls of the nursing home rather than what happened outside, especially in the back of the nursing home. Most of the other residents didn't appreciate or even acknowledge the imagined view in the way that Ruth did.

For Ruth, it didn't matter; as if her view never changed, she could still see her memories come alive through the forest. She could clearly see the maze of paths that led to the lake and when she looked out her window and she imagined all of it the way that it once was and the way that she once was, so young, so beautiful, so happy, and so in love. When she looked out her window, she saw people. Not so much naked people, but happy people relaxing and enjoying their day amid the beauty of nature.

As Charles Dickens wrote his Great Expectations about Mrs. Nora Dinsmoor, subsequently becoming Mrs. Doris Dinsmore in one of the movies, with Anne Bancroft playing the role, and about her decaying mansion and her sorrowful life, this view was her fantasy of how her life once was and Robert was her handsome Pip. Allowing her to forgot her present reality, that she was old, allowing her to forget that she was left to die in a nursing home, looking out this window was like watching a rerun of how her life used to be.

"With the good there is always bad and it was here on this very site that, as a little girl, I visited my Uncle Joe who lost his mind with the stock market crash of '29 in 1932," she'd tell Dorothy who had the patience of a saint and who never tired of listening to Ruth's same, sad stories, as if hearing them for the first time.

"My parents lived through that, too. They lost everything," said Dorothy to her friend, as if saying it for the first time, too.

"It was here that I visited my cousin Frank in '43, who had returned home from WWII with a steel plate in his head and a never cured screaming madness created by the horror that he lived through on the battlefield of war. An ice pick lobotomy up the nostril silenced his screaming but he died shortly thereafter, bleeding to death from complications of the surgery. And it was here that my mother, Rose, in '51, was committed for depression when my Dad died unexpectedly of a heart attack that left her penniless."

The psychiatrist at the hospital said her mother needed peace, quiet, and rest. Days later, the doctor lied when he said that her mother's condition was improving. Only, the days she was locked away in her rubber room turned to weeks and then months before they diagnosed her as terminally depressed and dying of a broken heart.

Unable to fend for herself, married to an older man who had made every household decision, financial and otherwise, and who had earned every dollar, she was lost without him to tell her what now to do. Instead of being the widowed wife and losing her beloved husband, it was as if she was an abandoned little girl who was lost after her father died.

Unbeknownst to Dorothy, every time Ruth looked out this window she saw Robert, her boyfriend, her friend, her lover, and her husband, resplendent in his army uniform. She was so happy then and that happiness, that was once giddiness, was still there. A forever memory never forgotten of feelings that stuck like glue to the forest floor, only she held the secrets that unlocked and opened the visions for her to see and feel the remembrances when looking out her window at the view.

Every time she looked out her window, she saw Robert and smiled. Every time she looked out her window, she saw him waving his hello before kissing her his good-bye. For fear that he'd not return, unable to leave him for a second, if she left her window, she'd be leaving the love of her life not knowing if he'd return.

The view made her want to write a love letter, like so many of the love letters she wrote before when he was away. Only, no longer having his address, but for the memory of him, he was gone for good now and would never safely return home to her, as he had promised to do and did when away at war. Seeing him there seemingly so alive before her cold splash of realization of not having him in her life and that he was no longer alive stopped her from writing her letter, but it never stopped her from looking out her window and wanting to write him.

"Robert, Rob, Bob, Bobby, he was so handsome," she said to herself for no one to here. "He was the love of my life. Robert, Rob, Bob, Bobby, I love you."

"Did you say something, Ruth, Honey," asked Dorothy engrossed in her book? 

Before this window ever held a view, Ruth's mother committed suicide a year after being held here against her will. Even though it took the lunacy and the lives of all of them to give this window this view, Ruth comforted herself with the knowledge that had her mother had a window with a view, perhaps she would have been okay with being locked away here, as she is now with her terminal incarceration. Uncle Joe, Cousin Frank, and her Mom are all buried there in the mass graveyard to the left of the lake that she can clearly see from her room. That this one place should hold such a significantly historic connection to her family, Ruth found it not only tragically disturbing but also ironically humorous and now somewhat comforting that she was placed here by her children for her to enjoy such a view.

Little did her daughter and son know and had they known the history of this place, in their good intentions, they surely wouldn't have placed her here and would have placed her elsewhere to die. Now that she was here, she was glad she never shared that information with them. Private, personal, and secretly cherished, she was glad she saved and kept her memories to herself. She may have told them about her uncle, her cousin, and her mother being committed in an insane asylum, she was sure she did; one time or another. She was glad she never told them that she used to come here with her lover before he became her husband and their dad.

The time they spent lying naked by the lake was her special memory and one that would die with the death of her. It was shockingly immoral behavior back then to be naked in public and something that one didn't do unless married and never in public, even if married. With his arm around her and her arm around him, he fondled her breast while she fondled his penis. She cherished him then, just as she cherished this view and the imagined sight of him now.

"Robert, Rob, Bob, Bobby... Robert, Rob, Bob, Bobby..."

Yet, her children were so involved, too involved, in their own little lives that they wouldn't remember or care enough or have enough time and energy to include her in their lives, which would explain why she was here in the first place. When she was lucid, when she refused to take the medication they tried to give her that kept her quiet and made her sleep, she always wondered why she was here and best she could figure was that her children didn't love her enough to keep her with them. Still somewhat depressed, more some days than others, she was long over that sadness now and it was her view that helped her to get over her feelings of rejection and abandonment. Believing that there is a reason for everything, this view was her reason for being here and she was grateful for the memories that this view saved only for her to see.


A Room with a View



Her daughter and her son were no longer able to give her the round the clock care she suddenly required and that she gave them when they were babies. Life is funny like that, but what goes around comes around and do onto others as you would have them do onto you, life is all about karma good and bad. The children of her son and daughter, no doubt, will do to them what they have done to her.

Both married with children, her children have lives of their own. Admittedly, times are different now with people living longer, notwithstanding, when she grew up, she was taught to never turn her back on family. Unless they were mentally ill, as was her uncle, cousin, and mother and needed professional medical care, family members did whatever was necessary for other family members in their time of need. Nonetheless, she still felt guilty about leaving her mother here and wondered if this wasn't her justified punishment for doing that with her children placing her here, too. Just as tragic when her mother could no longer function and care for herself, it was horrible when she received the call that her mother was gone.

"We're sorry, but your mother is gone." 

"Gone? What do you mean she's gone? Where did she go?"

"I'm sorry. She's dead. She committed suicide."

No daughter should receive a telephone call like that about their mother, a call she discovered this institution routinely made. Cold and detached, they were so insensitively unprofessional back then. She always wondered if there was more to the story. As Ruth was in her youth and still is now, her mother was an attractive woman and Ruth always wondered if her mother had been sexually assaulted, brutalized, and physically abused by the mostly male staff that was not very well trained to care for the women who were left unconditionally and unsupervised in their care. Sometimes under the false pretenses that they were mentally ill, the patients were routinely drugged by the staff to keep them quiet and to keep them there as paying patients, when instead they were just depressed.

Had this happened today instead of in the early 50's, they could be prescribed a pill and there'd be agencies that would open an investigation into the wrongdoings of the nursing home on her behalf. She could have filed a civil suit for wrongful death and ultimately put the hospital out of business. Still, she was saddled with remorse and saddened with guilt that it was somehow her fault and that she hadn't done enough to help protect her mother.

Back then, she didn't harbor any thoughts that a medical doctor, a psychiatrist of all professionals, would place money before the mental welfare of a patient. With the grounds so beautiful and the setting so serene, she was naïve that evil didn't lurk here, but it did. Much like in the Garden of Eden, it thrived. Understanding all of that now helped her to understand the motives of her children for leaving her here. At least she had her view.

Albeit somewhat accustomed to her new surroundings now after being here for more than three years, Ruth still had her bad days where she felt angry having been abandoned here by her family. Apart from their obligatory holiday visits, her son, her daughter, and her grandchildren came to see her less and less and when they did come, their visits grew shorter and shorter and to the point where she was so hurt and so angry when they finally arrived that she pretended she was asleep, just so they'd leave.

Thinking she was asleep, her son and daughter were insensitive in their words. The venom they spewed that she was still alive, gave her the strength to continue to live and her view gave her the reason she needed to continue. The older she lived, the more she was forgotten by them and the more she relied on her view to make her happy.

She imagined her daughter getting a call for her to come to the nursing home one day. She imagined the meeting they'd have with the nursing home administrator. 

"Gone? She's gone," she imagined her daughter saying when hearing the news from the administrator. "What do you mean, she's gone? Where did she go?"

"I'm so sorry. She died peacefully in her sleep." She imagined the administrator breaking the sad news of her demise to her daughter.

"Gone! She's finally gone!" She imagined her daughter saying when telling the news to her brother over the phone.

"Well, it's about time. I thought she'd never die. I thought the old bag would live forever," she imagined her son saying to his sister. 

Her daughter gave her a cell phone for her to keep in touch, but she always misplaced it and whenever she found it again, she always forgot to recharge the battery before losing it again. Since her children put her here to die, she still believed, she wondered if losing her cell phone wasn't psycho-symptomatic of not wanting to talk to her children any more.

Living life on her own for nearly twenty years after the death of Robert, her beloved husband, a lesson of being self-sufficient that her mother had unknowingly taught her by her mother's inability to live on her own after her husband died, Ruth felt imprisoned here. When she was first placed here, no longer independent, it was too big of an adjustment to suddenly swallow all of that at once and to find herself living in an unfamiliar place with strangers that she didn't know, like or trust.

Five years older than her, she wished Robert had lived longer. She wished he was here with her now to care for her and to protect her, as he had done during the years when they were together. Oh, how she loved him. He was her best friend. If he was here with her now, they could look out the window and at the view together and hold hands, while smiling at one another with the secret of what they used to do by the lake.

If it was up to her, she would have been married on these grounds, but her mother insisted that they have a church wedding. If it was up to her, she would have eloped with Robert before he shipped out to war. She thought she'd never see him again. She was so happy when he returned home safe and sound and in one piece.

Like a dream, it seemed like yesterday when they first met and sometimes it seemed as if it never happened, it was so very long ago. When she met him, she never thought her life would turn out the way that it had become now. Certainly, once she found him, she couldn't imagine her life without him. Then, with him leaving for so long and finally coming home from war after defeating the Germans and the Japanese, she thought their time together would never end. Now alone and still missing him, she dreaded every minute of her life without him. Something she thought would never happen, some days she forgets to remember him by not thinking about him.

'Robert? Robert who?'

If it wasn't for his picture on her nightstand, she feared she'd forget him altogether. Yet, her view never allows her to forget him because he never forgets her. He's there. He's always there, especially when she needs him to be there. There he is again.

He returns to her every night to stand and wave at her by the lake; it's his time to visit with her. She still kisses his photo goodnight on those days when she remembers who he is. It's the medication they force her to take that makes her forget him. Those pills fog her mind and make her lazy and tired. She's better off without them and hides them in her mouth, whenever she can, to spit them out later, once the nurse leaves her room.

She hates forsaking the control of her life to a staff of strangers. No longer can she eat what she wants or go where she wants, whenever she wants. She misses driving her car to go shopping at the supermarket or the mall and she misses visiting her old friends. The fact that her friends never came here to visit her made her wonder if they were still alive or if they were locked away somewhere else, too, as she was locked away here. She wished she had a friend who was locked away with her; they could reminisce about the old neighborhood and gossip about people they used to know. It was horrible to be so mistreated and as a good mother and a caring grandmother, she certainly deserved better than being imprisoned here, she felt. 

"I miss my grandchildren. I miss my cat," sometimes thinking that she was alone, she surprised herself by saying that out loud and was even more surprised when Dorothy answered.

"I'm sure your grandchildren will visit you, soon, Ruth, Honey. And I miss my dog, a Golden Retriever named, Molly." 

When they first left her here, she wondered and worried what would happen to her house and her possessions. They've all since been sold and her possessions divided between her son and her daughter leaving her with just a few of her most treasured things to make her feel at home here, they said. She wondered who took her cat, Julia, named after her daughter who died in childbirth, something else she never told her children. She remembered how special Robert was during that time, caring, loving, and understanding to help her through her pain and depression. She found out later and just as quickly forgot again that her daughter took the cat.

She wondered about her neighbors and how her best friend, Cynthia, was doing after she had fallen and broken her hip. She had forgotten that Cynthia had died some years ago, long before she was even placed here. What seemed like yesterday was years ago and what seemed like years ago happened yesterday.

She wondered about her mail and the mailman that she spoke with every morning before sending him off with some freshly baked cookies she made the night before and quickly wrapped in a paper towel when she saw him approaching. He's since retired and moved to Florida. It's funny that she never saw him as being that old, old enough to retire, but he was. 

It wasn't so bad being here. For one thing, she didn't have to cook anymore and shop for food, even though she sometimes missed it, cooking and shopping had become too much of a burden for her to do. Now that she thought about it, things can be worse, they always can be worse. Unlike so many others who had gone from her life, at least she was still breathing.

Usually very early in the morning while the others slept, she'd catch a glimpse of a deer, a fox, a hawk, and even the rare sight of a black bear. Then, late at night, she'd watch the nocturnal creatures emerge, owls, bats, coyotes, badgers, opossums, and raccoons to hunt prey and forage for food. The forest never slept. Breathing, living, changing, and alive with activity, there were always animals out and about and things to see. And then she saw her Robert.

She couldn't believe he was there, but he was, just as how she remembered him.

"Robert, Rob, Bob, Bobby, I love you."

Ruth didn't sleep much. Sleep was such a waste of her time when she had so little of it left to live. She'd sleep when she was dead was what her grandmother used to say and what had now become her mantra. As if devoting all her time in church to gaze up at the altar, she spent her days and nights looking out her sacred window at her beloved view. She didn't want to miss seeing Robert. Sometimes she imagined seeing Robert wearing his uniform and sometimes she imagined him naked. Sometimes she imagined him waving to her and calling to her to come out and join him, but she couldn't open her door. She tried, but it was locked from the outside and she'd bang on it wanting to leave.

"Open the door. Open the door. Robert is out there waiting for me. Let me out. I need to talk to my Bobby. I need to kiss him. Open the door. Please, someone unlock my door. I want to see my Robert."

"Ruth, Honey, it's late. Go to bed," said Dorothy. "You can go out tomorrow morning when they unlock the door."

Sometimes, she'd fall asleep in her chair and be surprised to awaken in bed after one of the orderlies put her to bed, as she had done so many times with her children. Sometimes the touch of the orderly lifting her would awaken her and she surely thought it was Robert helping her to bed.

"Robert? Is that you? Oh, Robert, I love you."

Away from cars and people, with everything done for her, it was relaxing to watch nature in its natural habitant with birds building nests and animals taking shelter and living off the land, as it was meant to be. Suddenly, becoming withdrawn, anti-social, and even a bit misanthropic, she preferred watching her animals than talking to people. Except for the lack of manicured lawns and overall nature's natural landscaping, the view she had was what a mentally ill person had peering out through his barred window from 1880, when it was built, to 1970, when it was demolished to make way for the construction and dedication of this nursing home in 1999. How awful it must have been for her uncle, cousin, and mother to not only be confined here but also to have been trapped in their disturbed minds, as she is now.

Never having been an artist, never having had a lesson, yet, always knowing she could draw, she suddenly took to sketching her view with pencils. When the staff noticed her drawings in black pencil, they happily supplied her with art paper and a rainbow of colored pencils for her to sketch in color. Her mood enlivened with her drawings and her drawings were so remarkably and professionally done, that the staff had an art show of her sketches for all the other residents of the nursing home to see and enjoy.

It had taken her more than 80 years to discover her artistic gift and to reveal her talent for sketching through the memories that she was given from her view. It was as if she had an extension of her view that she could now post to her white, lackluster walls to give them not only a bit of color but also to extend her view so that she could see it even on those sick days when confined to her bed.

Only, she penciled her view the way the landscape behind the nursing home was before and not in the way that it was now. Always, Robert stood prominently in the picture. Sometimes he was dressed in uniform, sometimes he was naked, but she never drew him; she merely imagined him leaving a space for him to be penciled and colored in later, perhaps. Only, she never did pencil and color him in later because he no longer existed. 

Everyone questioned why she left a space and some guessed why she did, but she never told anyone. Her love was gone and leaving the space for him was her window of escape to take whenever she needed to see him again. Leaving that part of her drawing empty allowed her to imagine him there and to imagine her gone from this view to be with him.

The land had remained vacant for nearly thirty years until some wealthy doctor got the idea that this was the ideal location for a nursing home and it was. High up on a hill and overlooking the valley below, the view out back, unnoticed by those who would rather recreate with the other residents, was what made being here tolerable. Her room with a view gave her the solace she needed to continue. The view from her window was her ever changing canvas of life, wild or otherwise. Besides, this is where Robert came to see her every night.

In all the places her children could have placed her, once she resigned herself to no longer being able to live in her house and on her own, she considered herself fortunate to be here. Knowing that eventually she'd die here, she felt at home here because of the view she enjoyed so much each day. She only wished she could be buried on the grounds in a plot next to her mother, so that she'd overlook the lake and could come out late at night to be with Robert again, but that cemetery had been closed for decades. Nonetheless, she's already written her will requesting that she be buried next to her baby daughter, Julia, a plot across the way from her beloved husband. Hopefully, when he's not here, he's there.

She had bought the double plot when they were first married but used one grave for Julia. Then, when Robert died, as a WWII veteran, he was allowed a plot in the veteran's lawn across the way from Julia's grave. She likes the fact that he watches over Julia, as he will watch over her when she's finally put to rest across from him. That should come as some surprise to her daughter and her son to discover that they had or would have had an older sister. She almost wished she could be around to see the shocked looks of surprise on their faces when her lawyer reads them her will. 

Slowly rocking in her chair, it was the same chair she used to nurse her babies, comfort her children when they were ill, and welcome and hold her grandchildren when they visited. She rocked as if keeping beat with the ticking of time that her mantle clock faithfully ticked away on her dresser, the antique clock her mother had given her as her wedding gift. She knitted clothes and blankets for the great grandchildren she imagine she'd have and sipped lemon tea from the good china cup and saucer that her husband bought her for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, the one she always kept on display in the china cabinet with the good china and dared never use for fear of breaking it. All the while, Ruth loved looking out her window at the view. It was all about the view, as now there was nothing else left for her to do or to see but to enjoy her precious view.

It didn't matter if the landscape was covered by the snows of winter and the lake was frozen solid with ice, she loved watching the winter giving way to spring with its announcement of another year of life for the new creatures that emerged from the forest. Then, when winter warmed to spring, she awoke to the birds singing and she enjoyed watching the bloom of the buds come alive before closing her drapes from early June until mid September, when the colorful speckled leaves and the chill of fall allowed her to reopen her drapes and enjoy her view again.

During that time, when she shut her drapes, she drew her sketches. During that time, instead of looking out at her view, she endlessly stared at her sketches. During that time, she slowly became more withdrawn and more depressed, no longer leaving her room to mingle with the other residents.

Every year, the summer was her time of depression when she couldn't enjoy her view. Every year around this time her precious view was assaulted by a collection of deviant, nude men who invaded and abused the privacy that this remote location afforded and that encouraged and helped to hide the secrecy of their perversions. Some of the men were gay and others were just perverts hoping to catch a glimpse of a nude or semi-nude woman that tanned on the bank by the lake while flashing them their penises. She didn't need to see any of that nor did she want the memory of her view despoiled by their abhorrent lewd and lascivious behavior, which is why she kept her drapes closed for three months.

Open minded and accepting of others, Ruth didn't care that some of the men were homosexual; one of her grandsons was gay. Yet, still, just as she had no desire to watch a man and a woman having sex, she had even less desire to watch a man and a man having sex. Then, she wondered, if when she came here to have sex with Robert, if those who lived in the mental institution could see them. Because they weren't free to make love, she wondered if the sight of them making love tortured them, as much as the sight of man making love with another man now tortured her.

Yet, what bothered her even more than public sex was the open promiscuity of the gay men who came here just to have sex with not just one special man, but with several strangers. Every day they came looking for a lover and looking for sex and every day she counted the days until she could open her drapes to enjoy her view again. Especially with AIDS and other STDs running rampant, she never understood that kind of driven, dangerous, deviant, and self-destructive lifestyle that would put them at such risk for diseases and even death.




A Room with a View



Lately and especially now that the economy has grown sour, there have been several sexual assaults on the grounds. The lack of money increases the need for forced sex, it seems. Once in a while the police would raid the more secluded spots around the lake, but the lake was so big and there were so many hidden paths for the men to take to escape, that the raid was more of a temporary scare tactic to appease the abutting neighbors than anything else.

There were no trespassing signs posted and notices that warned of arrest and prosecution for anyone found without clothes or being lewd and lascivious in their behavior, but that never stopped those who had grown to prefer this spot for sex as much as Ruth loved this spot for its view of nature and its natural order of things. The site had always been a very private place for nude bathers and sun worshipers, as far back as when she was a little girl and when her mother and grandmother were little girls before her. She named it her Garden of Eden and in the way that the grounds were cared for back then. With its great manicured lawns, colorful flower beds, and a grove of fruit bearing trees, the scenery made her think that Adam and Eve could have lived here. It truly was a special scenic paradise.

When the mental hospital was closed and before the site had become a nursing home, the grounds lay dormant for nearly thirty years. The seclusion and beauty of the location attracted throngs of people each National Nude Day, as well as other warm weekends. As she did then, so long ago, it was a place where lovers could celebrate the holiday and still have privacy, if they so desired. 

Except for the public displays of nudity, nothing ever happened here. A time before major highways were constructed and when not everyone owned a car, it was a place that couples could safely walk to, come together, and enjoy while sharing some private moments in the woods without their clothes. An unofficial nudist spot, if you will, was now despoiled by naked men who weren't there to enjoy the majesty and splendor of nature and its natural wonderment, but were only here to have sex with one another or with themselves while leering at others, who were there without their clothes, as nature had intended all of it's creatures to be.

Ruth hated that her memory of this precious spot was now being ruined by an immoral society of perverted men. She wished it was the way it was back then when she took her college sweetheart here to not only explore nature but also to explore his body while allowing him to explore her body, too. Her college sweetheart later became her husband and she never told her mother that she wasn't a virgin. It was a big deal back then to be virtuous enough to wear white in a church wedding and she lied not to disappoint her mother and shame her family with the truth that she wasn't pure.

"Ruth, Honey, open the drapes and let the sunshine in the room," said Dorothy pushing open the drapes with a whoosh. As if someone had turned on all the lights all at once, the bright sun danced pyramids of glimmering rainbows across her white walls. "You live like a shut-in. This room is depressing enough. I feel like I'm living in a cave," said her roommate with a laugh.

"I close the drapes because of those nasty men," said Ruth standing up from her rocker on unsteady legs to walk closer to the window.

"Nasty men? What nasty men," asked Dorothy walking to the window and looking out at Ruth's view?

"There," said Ruth pointing a crooked finger while leaning against the table for balance. "There," she pointed again but in a different direction. "And there," she said watching her friend following her index finger.

"Oh, my, I had no idea. Are they doing what I think they are doing?"

"Yes," said Ruth.

"That is nasty."

"This used to be such a nice place," she said to Dorothy while her sudden rush of memories replaced her anguish with a smile.

"Here," said Dorothy moving Ruth's rocker away from the window and placing it closer to her bed. "If you sit back here, not as close to the window, you can still enjoy the view and can still see the lake, without having to see all that nastiness."

"Yes, I know, but that behavior bothers me because I know it's still there," she said walking back over to her window and closing the drapes. "And from back here, I can't see Robert."

"Who? What? What did you say, Ruth?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"You were busy last night sketching, I see," said Dorothy looking at all of Ruth's sketches. "Why do they all have an empty space in all of your drawings?" She said turning away from the sketches to look at her friend, who had her eyes closed and wasn't listening or if she was listening, pretended not to be. "The sketches are beautiful until you see the space that you left. Then," she said turning to look at Ruth again, "it's shocking. I'm disturbed by the space, but my eyes are drawn to it. I feel your emptiness that there is something missing in you that you are unable to complete the picture."

"It's just a sketch, Dorothy. You read too much into it."

"Well, I'm going down to the recreation room to socialize. There are some new residents and I want to see if there are any cute men. Won't you come, Ruth? You never leave this room anymore. It's not healthy to keep to yourself in the way that you sometimes do."

"You go ahead without me, Dorothy. Maybe I'll join you later," she said but knowing that she wouldn't follow her friend. She hadn't left her room since she closed her drapes.

"Where's Ruth," said Ed, a retired cruise ship director, to Dorothy. Still a good looking woman, he missed flirting with Ruth, who enjoyed giving him a run for the money when she was in the mood. Many of the residents gathered around the big screen TV to watch the Bachelorette before arguing over what they'd watch next. Presently, the vote was to watch reruns of Golden Girls with one woman constantly and continually wanting to watch Bob Barker and the Price Is Right. 

"I want to watch the Price Is Right with Bob Barker."

"We already told you, Rosemary," said Ed for the hundredth times. "Bob Barker doesn't do the show anymore. He retired. It's that heavy set comedian, Drew Carey, who does the show.

"Drew Carey's not heavy set," said someone else. "He has a hot girlfriend, that Jenny McCarthy, who was a Playboy bunny."

"Nah," said Ed with a wave of his hand. "You're thinking of Jim Carey."

"Are they brothers," said someone else?

"Who," said someone else?

"I didn't know Bob Barker and Jim Carey were brothers," said someone in the back of the room.

"They must have had different mothers," said someone else.

"Oh, never mind. Can someone put the Price Is Right rerun on the other TV for Rosemary," said Ed pointing to someone to wheel her out to the waiting room where there was a TV.

Ed had hoped Ruth would be there, no doubt. He had a crush on her and he had a fondness for sitting beside her and holding her hand.

"She's in her room," said Dorothy. "She won't come out. I told her that it was the Bachelorette night, but she's depressed because she can't look out her window."

"Can't look out her window?" Bill, an ex-state trooper who riled easily, once a Marine, always a Marine, turned in his seat ready to take action against whoever disallowed Ruth from looking out her window. "Why can't she look out her damn window? Who said Ruthie couldn't look out her window? That's an outrage. I never heard of such a thing. We're not prisoners here and the last time I checked this was still a free country. If she wants to look out her damn window then—"

"Ruthie? Why, Bill, I had no idea you were sweet on Ruth."

Apparently, Ed wasn't the only one who had a crush on Ruth.

"Yeah, well, just because I like her doesn't mean that I want to marry her. At my age, I like playing the field."

"At your age, you can't even find the field to play and if you could find it, it'd be too far away to walk to it," laughed Walter, a retired car salesman.

"So, what's going on with Ruth and her window," asked Sophie, a retired nurse?

"Yeah, why can't she look out her window," asked several others in the room nearly in unison who were now impatiently waiting for the Bachelorette to return from station break? 

"During the day, there are those nasty queer men having gay sex with one another in the woods and perverts flashing their private parts to women walking in the woods or sunbathing," said Dorothy making a sour face.

"It doesn't offend me that they are gay," said Allen, a retired shoe salesman, who returned to the closet and hid the fact that he was gay after his gay lover of 30-years passed. "Some things should be done behind closed doors. Those men have no decency. They know that they can be seen and they don't give a care. Besides its just nasty how they can be with so many partners in one evening."

Everyone knew Allen was gay, only Allen didn't know that everyone knew. It didn't matter he was gay. Everyone liked him.

"Well, I still have a few connections and some favors that I can call upon to clean up the area," said Bill puffing out his chest.

They all figured that Bill was a blowhard and a pompous ass, and in most cases, they were right. Yet, this time, he kept good his word and the next morning the area behind the nursing home was thick with state troopers and local police. A helicopter that flew overhead directed the police where to go to apprehend and arrest the predators that lurked in the woods. They were surrounded and all the paths were blocked. With more than two dozen arrests in the short span of a few hours, the raid was deemed a success. Quickly the word got out to the rest of the gay and/or perverted men that this spot was now closed.

"Come look. I want you to see what Bill did for you," said Dorothy opening Ruth's drapes. "He directed a raid. All the men are gone."

Ruth ambled over to the window.

"Oh, how nice, I must thank him later, but first I want to enjoy my view."

"That's not all," said Dorothy catching her and pulling her to the window before Ruth had a chance to make herself comfortable for the day in her rocking chair to look at her view. 

"What?" Ruth looked at her friend.

"It's a surprise."

"Oh, goody," said Ruth clapping her hands like a young school girl. "I love surprises."

"Do you know what day today is?"

"Of course, I know what today is," said Ruth hesitating to answer to make sure she got the day correct. "It's Tuesday," she said looking at her friend. "Isn't it Tuesday? Now, that I think of it, it could be Wednesday. No, I remember now, yesterday was Monday...I think."

"Yes, it is Tuesday, but do you know what else today is?"

"Other than July 14th, I think, I have no idea," she said with a vacant look in her eyes.

"Yes, today is July 14th. Today is also National Nude Day."

"National Nude Day? There's no such holiday, I mean, it's not an official holiday like the Fourth of July," said Ruth waving a hand of disbelief at her friend.

"There is," said Dorothy. "National Nude Day is a real holiday celebrated by people all over the world."

"I don't understand," said Ruth, while watching Dorothy suddenly removing all her clothes. "Why are you naked, Dorothy?"

"Because we are going outside," she said unbuttoning Ruth's blouse. "We're going to celebrate National Nude Day naked just like all those times you told me how they used to celebrate National Nude Day by going to the lake naked."

"I told you that? I don't remember telling you about the lake. I never told you no such thing."

"Yes, you told me how beautiful this place was and how people would gather to spend the day without their clothes.

"Outside? Naked? Certainly not. I'm not going outside without my clothes. I'll catch my death of cold."

"For gosh sakes, Ruth, it's 85 degrees outside. You'll get sunburned before you'll catch a cold. Look," said Dorothy turning her to face the window and pointing to a long line of nursing home residents walking naked towards the lake.

Arranged as if it was a view just for Ruth, walking out in the open below her window, even the nurses and orderlies who pushed some of the residents in wheelchairs were naked while other of the naked residents made their way alone down in their walkers and canes. With so many naked people walking towards the lake, it was as if Ruth was reliving how it used to be when her parents took her here when she was a little girl.

"Oh, how wonderful," said Ruth. "This is just like old times," she said looking at her friend and smiling. "It's lovely to see so many enjoy this view again."

"C'mon, Ruthie" waved Bill turning towards her window to give her a full frontal view of his manhood. "Last one down to the water is a rotten egg," he yelled.

"Oh, my," said Ruth thinking that he looked a little how she imagined Robert to look at this age when naked. "Bill is blessed with a rather large penis."

"I saw," said Dorothy. 

Ruth looked at Dorothy wondering how much more she knew and if she ever told her about Robert. She couldn't remember.

"Did I tell you about Robert?"

"No, you never told me about Robert, but I figured you would in time," she said stripping Ruth naked. "You can tell me now while we walk down to the lake. C'mon, let's go have some fun," said Dorothy taking Ruth under the arm and escorting her out the back door naked.

"You go ahead, Dorothy. I have something that I need to do first. I promise I'll be right down in a few minutes."

"Okay, but if you don't come, I'll bring Bill up naked to carry you down."

"Maybe, I should stay in my room then and wait for him to scoop me up in his arms," said Ruthie.

True to her word, Ruthie hobbled down in her walker. Like all the others, she was naked and she felt again, as she did when she was a young girl. Her life had come full circle and she was now accepted and with her friends. She loved being here and all her sketches showed what this place meant to her because now the blank space was replaced by sketches of her and Robert holding hands.



A Room with a View



As the plane banked in, the land below looked rich and green, dotted with developments and striped with roads. It reminded Connor of his time in Hawaii visiting the islands that were separated from Oahu's overdevelopment. As the vista grew closer, however, the roofs of the houses bloomed into focus and he could see the developed cityscape of Havana in the distance. Many of the houses were just corrugated metal or patched, and windows were missing glass or the glass was marred by tape in an X the size of the frame. The neglect was obvious even from a distance.

When the plane landed, the passengers broke into applause and he joined them bemusedly. He waited as the passengers slowly disembarked, and he and his co-workers worked their way down the narrow aisle to the portable steps and down onto the tarmac. They walked to the waiting bus with the rest of the crowd and as they did, the heat seeped into them. There was no air conditioning on the bus and the short ride to the terminal was sweltering. 

Emma was next to him and chattering inanely, indifferent to whether anyone was actually listening, but Stephen, sitting across the aisle made an occasional murmur of reply, so perhaps he was. Jammed next to a thin, older, Cuban woman who was weighted down with a large purse and multiple plastic bags, Lauren was in the seat in front of Connor. This was her first trip to Cuba and she sat quietly, staring out the window in fascination. Connor was staring in fascination too, but his interest didn't have anything to do with anything outside the bus.

As soon as Lauren had walked into the conference room the first morning of their 3-day preparation for this trip, he'd been struck by her beauty. She had long legs and a waist that tapered from rounded hips and then swooped upward to shoulders made wide by athletic activity. She exuded a quiet confidence and when she spoke, it was with an emotional intensity that was magnetic. He was normally self-possessed, even roguish in talking to women, but something about this one left him a little stunned when she turned her full attention on him. 

She had a mischief about her when she smiled and he always had the impression that she somehow knew some litany of secrets or insights about him and what he was thinking. Now they were going to be spending the next 5 weeks working and staying in the same hotel, forced to share time and space. That thought, and the thought that there was little to do in the evenings and weekends besides lounge at the hotel pool or at the beach sipping iced rum drinks, presumably with her in a bikini, brought him more excitement than he'd like to admit. 

Looking forward at her, he could see sweat beading on the back of her neck and painting down wisps of her hair where it had pulled free from where she had tied it up. Idly he wondered what her reaction would be if he leaned forward and blew lightly there to send a chill through her. He was brought out of his study and his attention turned outside by a nudge from Emma asking for translation of one of the signs they were slowly rolling by.

"Commander in Chief, Your Ideas are Invincible," he answered. He was the only one among them that had been to the island before, but Stephen and Lauren at least had varying ability in Spanish. Emma was going to be a trial. Connor privately maintained that she was on the trip and employed with the firm based more on her ability to please certain partners than for any actual ability.

The fences and buildings seemed oddly cobbled together but functional, topped with razor wire and sided with mismatched colors and materials. The entrance to the terminal was made up of planks and the walls had cut outs to hold window style air conditioners that were whirring futilely against the thick, damp, stifling heat.

He and the others were pulled from the line almost immediately and moved past the people returning to visit relatives or from vacation. A uniformed woman took his passport and stared coldly from the photo to his face before telling him in English to look into a camera. He did, and then returned her stare impassively. Finally, she nodded him through the door to an open area where baggage arrived intermittently via a sluggish conveyor belt. There was no sign of organization as the passengers milled about and workers tossed the bags into their midst. When the four of them finally had all their luggage over an hour later, they approached a second checkpoint.

The special business visas in each of their passports kept them from even more scrutiny, but it didn't make the line in front of them move more quickly. Waiting was a religion in Cuba. When they finally made it outside again, it became clear that if the terminal with its overworked fans and window air conditioners had been stifling, the sun-bleached sidewalk and dirt outside the exit was a steaming furnace. He had expected the heat, but he could see that it was withering most of the others. Lauren, however, though sweating, was doing well, smiling even, as she looked around in excitement.

"No worse than Thailand, right?" he asked her, matching her grin, and she gave a quick nod.

"The heat and the humidity are about the same, but the scenery is..." she answered, nodding toward one of the many communist slogan billboards that lined the road leading to the terminal.

"Bienvenidos," he laughed. "Come one, we'll have to change some money for the taxi and the hotel deposit."

They walked down the cracked and intermittent sidewalk to another building that adjoined the terminal and inside to a bored looking woman in a booth flanked by two armed guards. After waiting for a few moments before the woman could be bothered to acknowledge them, they exchanged American dollars at a rate and fee that bordered on open extortion and then made their way back outside to find a man in a yellow and black checked tie and short sleeved, button down shirt waiting for them.

"Taxi to the Hotel Nacional, Sir?"

"How did...?" Emma began, but Connor cut her off.

"Yes, thank you. Do you have a van that will fit all of us and our luggage, or will we need to use one of your colleagues too?"

The driver smiled widely and gestured at a ten-year-old mini-van at the front of a long, eclectic line of cars whose only commonality was a metal sign propped on each dash proclaiming each of them to be a taxi. Without further word, the driver took bags from Emma and Lauren and another driver moved to help the rest of them. Emma looked at Connor in alarm, but he nodded and gave a stay calm gesture. They piled into the van, and Connor took the front seat, ignored the broken springs and the cracked leather and pulled the seatbelt into place.

They bumped and jarred their way out from the airport and accelerated onto a 4 lane highway that was almost bereft of other autos, past more billboards, these ones focused more on the evils of the blockade and George Bush than on the success of the Revolution and the glory of its leaders. Once they were on the major road, the driver turned to Connor.

"Where are you from?"

"The U.S." There was no point in lying. The chances were, especially given his ability to speak English, that the man knew already anyway and had been sent conveniently to meet them. Any obfuscation would only appear suspicious, and would make their business in Cuba more difficult.

"I have cousins in the U.S.!" the driver responded enthusiastically.

"Hialeah?" asked with a chuckle.

"Yes!" the driver responded, and then began to rattle off questions. "What brings you? Is this your first trip to Cuba? We don't get many Americans. Is the blockade lifting?"

"We're just here on business. I don't know much about politics," Connor answered, and then deflected further conversation for the rest of the ride.

They pulled into the curved driveway to the front of the Nacional, and the check in process went quickly. Connor waited until they were all checked in and walking to the elevator before he stopped and spoke to the clerk again, switching to Spanish."

"I forgot, Madam, it's very important that I get the room next to one of my colleagues. We'll be working very closely together on an account so we'll need to be able to move back and forth between our rooms without disturbing other guests."

"I am sorry, Sir, but your room has already been..." she began, but Connor placed his hand on the desk and leaned in, pitched his voice lower.

"Surely I don't need to speak to someone else about this. I would hate it if when speaking to another manager I mentioned the money you asked me for that I had already given you to make this small thing happen."

She looked around with a straight face, but alarm showed in her eyes.

"Sir, I did not ask, and you did not give..." she said, almost in a whisper.

"Of course not, but such things are possible, and nothing else needs to be said about it does it?" He said, smiling as though they were old friends and lifting his palm to show the 100 CUC note he had hidden under it. "You should tell them that I was very difficult and that you had to give me what I asked for to avoid a scene, and no one will know that I misplaced this money. And could I get an extra key card for operating the air conditioning, please?"

The woman smiled at him. It didn't reach her eyes, but she took his room card and re-programmed it after consulting her computer. When she slid the card back to him, the 100 CUCs disappeared neatly.

He rode up the elevator, all brass and antique elegance and made his way to his room. He put the extra key in the slot that activated the outlets and the air conditioning and then made his way around the room noting potential and obvious monitoring points and devices as he put his clothes, toiletries, and luggage away in a systematic way that would allow him to know when they'd been disturbed.

He was about to close the closet door when he noticed light coming from the back of the closet at the floor level, and he realized that there might be another reason that the front desk clerk hadn't wanted to put him in this room. It took him several minutes before he found the pinhole and several more of before he noticed that one of the hangars looked differently than the rest. He pulled it free from the rack and inserted it into the pinhole, and the back panel of the closet slid silently to the side. He opened the pocket door the rest of the way and tried to make his sight pierce the darkness behind the door. 

After a few moments of staring and listening, he went to his carry on and pulled out the small mag light he always kept in there and shined it into the space. The space was about eighteen inches deep and stretched up as high as the ceiling of the room. He looked to the right and it stopped at the edge of his closet, but to the left, it looked like it ran the length of his room.

Nerves jangling, he decided he couldn't close the panel without knowing what else was inside. Before he could change his mind, he ducked forward and crawled in, and then stood up. He slid the panel shut behind him, and the space filled with a dim glow of light. He edged sideways and could see that the light was coming from what looked like 2 large windows. They were several feet apart and between them was some sort of frame and a gear whose purpose he was unsure of until he realized that it must make 2 small panels swing into place to hide the space when the rooms' adjoining door was opened. 

Through the window in front of him, he could see most of a room nearly identical to his. One of Lauren's suitcases was open on the bed, but she wasn't in sight. He continued on and found the other looked into a bathroom. His breath caught as he stopped in front of it and Lauren was staring at him from inches away.

He stood frozen, breath held, waiting for her to scream or jerk away from him, and then realized slowly that he was looking at her through her bathroom mirror. She was nude and arranging her toiletries, and he could faintly hear her humming to herself. She was still sweating, the air conditioning not yet having cooled her from the oven outside, and her skin gleamed in the light from the bathroom ceiling and above the mirror. Her body was even more incredible than he had imagined and visualized. Her breasts were almost impossibly large for her frame and sat high on her chest, but hung under their own weight, making it obvious that they were untouched by surgery. 

He couldn't decide if she'd been a dancer or a swimmer and then decided her legs and shoulders said that she had been both. He watched her as she moved around the small room and turned on her shower, adjusting the flow of the water and the temperature with minute turns to the handles. Her ass was, if it was possible, even more perfect than her breasts, and he was mesmerized. Her back was leanly muscled, and just above her waist were two perfect dimples.

She stepped into the shower, and he became conscious that he was brutally hard. The semi-opaque glass of the shower stall hid the details of her, but her dim movements as she washed and conditioned her hair and scrubbed the travel off of her long form was somehow even more erotic than when he'd been able to see her in entirety. He thoughtlessly undid the buttons of his fly and stumbled slightly into the wall behind him. Her head jerked upward at the noise and he froze again, but after a moment of listening, she went back to soaping herself. His cock was pulsing and he began to lightly stroke himself as he watched her and then she reached upward to adjust the showerhead and lean backward against the shower wall. The stream was directed at her groin and she lifted one leg to plant against the wall opposite.

At the realization that she was masturbating at the same time, he could hear a roaring in his ears and his mouth went dry. His stroking became more frantic, and thinking numbly that he didn't want to leave evidence in the walkway that he'd been there, he stopped to pull free from his shirt and then began to stroke himself more urgently. He longed to be able to hear her. Her head was thrown back and her mouth was open, and she was shuddering. He felt his orgasm building from deep in his groin, from his legs and his stomach, and the muscles in his forearm began to spasm, making his stroking both faster and more irregular. He bit his lip hard when he came and rope after rope of semen shot into the shirt that he clutched onto his groin. He was shuddering and breathing hard, and when his eyes opened again he saw that she was finished, hands planted flat on the shower wall and water running over her head again. His thoughts and heart were racing, and he was full of the thrill and wrongness of the voyeurism. When she shut off the shower, he moved to leave the walkway and slid the panel back into place and rushed to get into his own shower, eager to regain his composure before the group met for drinks and dinner in an hour as planned.

Lauren stepped into her room, giddy with excitement. She'd heard Connor requesting the adjoining room as she walked to the elevator. None of the others understood Spanish well enough to have gotten much from the quick, quiet exchange, but she felt a little smug that hers was better than Connor realized. She knew he was interested in her, and had seen him flirting effortlessly with other women at different firm cocktail parties and happy hours, but for some reason he had not yet made any firm efforts toward her. She was hoping that the room change and 5 weeks in a tropical paradise, where language and custom would isolate them to some degree would change that. She'd packed a variety of bikinis and a ridiculous amount of sunscreen, and had every intention of needing it reapplied regularly.

Almost immediately after she got the air conditioning and the lamps working with her room key, the bellhop arrived with her luggage. Once he was gone, she stripped gratefully out of her sweat sodden clothing and moved to the bathroom to begin unpacking her shower items so that she could rinse off. The firm's security officer and the State Department consultant had warned them that they could expect to be under, if not constant, then certainly thorough surveillance, but she had never been particularly modest, and had decided as soon as she'd been told she was going on the trip that she would simply act as though no one were watching and not worry about it. In fact, she found herself a little excited at the idea that someone might be watching her when she didn't know it.

As she arranged her things, she hummed to herself; a song by Matt Costa that Connor had had her listen to on one of his earphones on the plane ride down. Once her things were out and the water was adjusted, she climbed gratefully into the cascade of the water. She went through the ritual of a shower and began to find herself fantasizing that there was actually someone watching her right that minute, and then that it was Connor, in the next room, somehow watching her without her knowledge. As she let the thought bounce around in her head and the water run over her, she felt a deeper warmth than the water deep in her groin. Suddenly she thought she heard a thump from the direction of the bathroom mirror and glanced in that direction with a start. 

She giggled at herself, at her imagination giving her what she was fantasizing about, and then decided to say, "fuck it," and reached upward to adjust the showerhead so that it would pour and pulse against her groin and then she leaned back against the shower wall, pulling one leg up to open herself to the spray. She began circling two fingers around her clit as the water vibrated against her and she closed her eyes, imagining that Connor was watching her and masturbating himself. It didn't take long, immersed in the fantasy and the water for her to come, and she stepped out of the shower in a fantastic mood and looking forward to her first meal and mojito in Havana, and to flirting subtly and outrageously with Connor Lawrence for 5 weeks. 

They met on the veranda, sat in a circle and listened to the ocean in the distance as a waiter in a Guayabera shirt brought them rum drinks. At times it seemed like everyone was talking at once, talking about the ordeal of getting through the airport, how different Cuba was from how they'd expected, and how much the same, but Connor couldn't concentrate. He translated here and there as needed and answered when he was spoken to directly, but he couldn't stop thinking about Lauren in the shower. He found himself watching her mouth as she was speaking, staring at her lips and imagining them moving as she whispered against his neck or his ear and what they would look like as they parted to take his cock into her mouth. He tore his eyes away from her mouth and focused downward instead.

She was sitting diagonally across from him wearing a light summer dress that came to just an inch or so above her knee, but as she drank and shifted in the chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs, it had ridden up maddeningly. She uncrossed them again and sat for a long moment with her feet spread wide, but her knees close together, and then, as he watched, her knees began to spread slowly apart. Just at the moment he was sure he could see white cloth between her legs, they crossed abruptly once more. He ran his cold glass across his forehead and then signaled for another drink grinning wildly and when he turned back, Lauren was smiling at him. He gave a quick nod, and took a hasty drink. When he looked again, she was once more engaged in conversation with the others, and he had no idea if the view he had been given had been inadvertent or deliberate. 

Connor gave himself a mental shake and rejoined the conversation and shortly they decided that it was time to get dinner. The four of them walked to the outdoor Spanish restaurant on the grounds of the Nacional and Connor was distracted from his thoughts about Lauren as he translated for the waitress, explained dishes and finally ordered for everyone. They were all a little giddy and drunk on rum and travel exhaustion by the time the appetizers and wine arrived. and Connor began to act more himself. He was naturally an extrovert and an outrageous natural flirt and got the waitress to take pictures of the group, and then to be in a few pictures herself. As they were lingering over the remains of the meal, a quartet of musicians with guitars and a bass violin appeared at the table and asked for requests, so Lauren asked them to play their favorite song. 




A Room with a View



The music was good, and infectious, and the travelers began to clap in time to the private concert. They lost track of time as every few songs the musicians would request a tip to continue and they took turns dropping a coin in the collection tambourine. Finally, Stephen was the first to announce that he was going to bed, and Emma took it as her cue to go too. Connor and Lauren were left to finish their drinks, thank the band, and push away from the table as the staff began cleaning up around them.

"Want to walk down toward the water and see the Malecón?" Connor asked, reluctant to end the night, and suddenly more aware that they were alone.

"The Malecón?"

"Yeah, it's the shore break wall that runs the length of most of Havana. It's where everyone hangs out at night and drinks rum, and listens to music, and dances, and makes love," He laughed.

"What?!"

Connor turned to the waitress who was still clearing around them and said, "The Malecón, es para los amantes, si?"

She grinned shyly and glanced at Lauren and then back to Connor, "Si, Señor, for many."

"All right, well, I'm too excited to be tired yet so we might as well, but there won't be any more rum for me tonight, and there sure as hell won't be dancing or lovin'," Lauren laughed.

They walked to the edge of the hill that the hotel sat on and looked down at the road below and the seawall thick with people as he had predicted it would be, and stood for a while without speaking, staring out at the ocean and listening to the competing strains of Cuban music that drifted up to them.

"Where did you learn Spanish?" she asked.

"When I was in prison in South America."

"You're so full of shit."

"Potty mouth."

"Oh you have no idea, Mister. I love to cuss," she said, "I have no idea why anyone would be offended by a well placed 'fuck' here and there."

"Well, as long as it's well placed," he said after a long laugh.

"Oh, God. Whatever. We should probably head back and get some rest. Tomorrow's meetings are going to come far too early."

With a shrug he agreed, so they walked through the grounds back to the hotel. As they walked, he was deeply aware of her beside him. He felt as though if he were to stop and close his eyes, and she were to keep walking in any direction he would have been able to point at her without opening his eyes. The elevator ride and walk to their rooms was quiet. He didn't speak or flirt for fear that it would somehow be taken wrong, and ruin the night and the next 5 weeks. She didn't speak because she was content and comfortable, and confident that the next 5 weeks would give ample opportunity for talk and the possibility of other things.

Once he was in his room, Connor stripped and stepped under the shower to rinse off before climbing into his bed, but as he was toweling off his room phone rang.

"Hello?" he answered, clueless as to who would be calling him, especially at that hour.

"Hey."

"Lauren?"

"So, I thought I was going to be fine with it, but I am a little freaked out about the idea that some Cuban secret agent is going to be looking at me in my room. Do you have any idea where the cameras and things are? I think that if I can block them somehow, or at least if I know where they are, that it will be ok."

"Uh, yeah, I have a pretty good idea. There are some signs and there are only so many places that make sense to put them."

"Is there any way that you can come over here and show me without it looking like I'm trying to get you over here for any other reason?"

"Of course, give me a minute, I'll be right over."

"Thanks."

Connor pulled on a pair of cargo shorts and a t-shirt and scrubbed a towel over his head and went next door. When she opened the door, he saw that she'd changed into a short pair of red work out shorts and a tank top and he was afraid for a moment that his visceral reaction to the outfit, which showed off her legs, shoulders, and cleavage, was visible on his face.

"Hey, I'm sorry, but thanks for coming over here. I don't think I would be able to sleep otherwise."

"It's no problem, let's see what we can find."

He slipped past her into the room, hair on his arms and the back of his neck standing up as he brushed close to her. She stayed close to him as they moved around the room and he blocked or disabled all of the cameras and microphones he could find. He stood at the mirror for a long moment, staring at it and seeing her in it, looking from him back to it. He opened his mouth to tell her that it was a 2-way mirror, that he knew she could be seen through it, and that the one in the bathroom was the same, but then abruptly decided he couldn't. He justified it with a half-truth.

"There are ways to watch you that aren't electronic, but it would require someone to actively be looking in and focused on you, you know? Nothing can be done about that except making the best of it and putting on a good show, right?"

She laughed and touched his arm, gave it a small squeeze and thanked him, and then pulled in for a hug. When he put his arms around her, they lined up perfectly, and though he had expected a little back pat sort of hug, he found himself pressed against her from thigh to chest and her chin on his shoulder. They stayed that way for a moment, but broke away mutually when a flush began to suffuse their bodies, the hug beginning to evolve into something else.

She spoke before he could. "Ok, thanks, night-night!"

"Yeah, sweet dreams."

The next day was a hazy blur, literally and figuratively. Between the drinking, the unfamiliar bed, the early pending wake up, the excitement of being in another country, and thoughts of Lauren, Connor felt like he hadn't slept at all. By the time they'd all finished the day's business, however, all of them had caught a second wind and were ready to go exploring. As Connor showered, he couldn't stop thinking about Lauren showering too, about how incredible she'd looked in the moonlight and pools of light from the outdoor lamps the previous night, and how much he had wanted her. He'd told himself a hundred times that day that he wouldn't go into the space between their rooms, but after he'd finished his shower and pulled on his pants, done a spritz of cologne and then donned his shirt, his resolve crumbled. He moved quickly, and as quietly as he could into the space behind the closet.

He could dimly hear music coming from her room as he entered the space and it reinforced how easily a noise could give away his presence. His heart was pounding as he stepped to the mirror. She was sitting on the bed in her panties and bra, one leg drawn up, and applying lotion. Her hair was wrapped in a towel, and she hadn't yet put on any make up, and Connor was struck again at how simply gorgeous he found her. She finished what she was doing and hummed as she moved around the room, pulling a shirt and a pair of shorts from dresser in front of the mirror that he stood behind, and then shimmied into them. He realized she was almost ready, and that he didn't want to be standing inches away as she stared into the mirror to put on her makeup, so he moved out of the space and back into his room.

Lauren finished putting the SPF lotion on her legs and pulled the towel from her head. She'd tried the television and it was a mixture of Spanish talk shows, Chinese talk shows, Spanish melodramas, and American VH-1. None of them appealed to her, and she was grateful for the iPod and speakers that she'd brought along. 

As she rummaged in the dresser for a shirt and a pair of shorts, she imagined Connor was in the room with her and that he would come up behind her at any moment and pull her into his arms, bend her over the dresser or down onto the bed or push her up against the wall without a word and simply take her. She shoved the idea out of her head, though. She didn't need to be worked up before they all went out to dinner, and there wasn't time to take care of things before it was time to go downstairs if she did get worked up. She tried to hurry, but her mind was wandering, and the others were all in the lobby when she got there.

They piled into a cab and Connor gave the driver the name of a private, household restaurant. She was in the middle, between Connor and Emma, and Stephen was in the passenger seat. She was acutely aware of the side of his leg against hers and her shoulder against his arm, but as they drove, she became more slowly aware of something else – his cologne. It wasn't overpowering, and she'd noticed in meetings before that he smelled good, but something about it was tickling her subconscious. It wasn't until they arrived at the restaurant that it dawned on her. When she'd been getting dressed, when she'd briefly entertained the idea of him in the room with her, she'd been able to smell his cologne. It had been subtle, but she was sure of it, and sure that it was what had triggered the idea in the first place. 

She pondered it through their meal and watched him as he interacted with the others, drank his drink, and enjoyed his food. She thought about what he'd said in her room, how he'd said, "it would require someone to actively be looking in and focused on you, you know? Nothing can be done about that except making the best of it and putting on a good show, right?" and then she was almost certain that he knew more about the monitoring of her room than he'd told her.

She smiled into her drink as she thought about that, and about what she might do to confirm her suspicions. Through dinner she made sure that her foot bumped his leg under the table, and that their hands brushed as they reached for bread and salt, but also that she made no direct eye contact with him, didn't engage him in any direct way. For all intents and purposes, it appeared she was ignoring him when she was, in fact, focusing a tremendous amount of attention on him and his reactions. 

On the car ride back to the hotel, she casually dropped her hand on his knee as she was leaning forward and speaking to Stephen, and again when Connor said something that made them all laugh. She could feel his body tense each time she did it, and was more and more certain that he was more interested in her than he'd let on so far. At the hotel, when Emma suggested drinks and Stephen immediately agreed, Lauren begged off.

"I think I am going to listen to some music in my room and organize my notes for tomorrow's presentation."

Connor watched her walk to the elevator and hesitated, debating as the others tried to talk him into joining them.

"You know what, guys, I am pretty exhausted too. I think I will head up. See you for breakfast."

As he rode the elevator up, he was in a battle with himself. He knew he shouldn't be acting the voyeur and the idea of what might happen if he was caught was nerve wracking, but the danger, and the carnality of watching her in her room, of having a private reality show with a beautiful woman was also almost impossibly exciting. His willpower lasted less than 5 minutes after he got into his room and had taken off the clothes he'd worn to dinner. Wearing only a pair of shorts, he climbed into the space.

Lauren had just begun to wonder if he had decided to go get drinks with the others after all when she heard Connor's door shut. A thrill ran threw her, and she practically threw herself across the room to settle onto the bed. She propped herself partly up with pillows and arranged herself on the bed so that her fee were thrust out toward the mirror, and she was sitting up far enough that she could see herself in it. All of the lights in the room but a corner lamp were turned off, so it was dim in the room, lit enough that she could see herself in the mirror, but not with glaring detail. Warm with the thrill and wrongness of her belief that she was about to be watched, she ran one hand up her torso and began to squeeze and rub her breasts while with the other, she began to rub herself. She spread her legs and stretched her arm downward, and pushed 2 fingers inside herself. When she did, she thought she heard a gasp, but wasn't sure if it was imagination, him watching, or if it had come from her.

Connor stepped in front of the mirror just as she entered herself and let out a gasp. He stood frozen and in awe, sweating and hard, pressed painfully against the inside of his shorts, he leaned on the mirror with one hand and worked frantically to free his cock. He took himself in his hand, but didn't move. He couldn't take his eyes off of her and he wanted to imprint the image on him brain. She was writhing on the bed, nipples hard, stomach taut, and muscles standing out in her legs and forearms as he heels dug into the bed and her fingers moved in and out of herself. As he stroked himself almost involuntarily his head pitched forward and bumped the mirror. Just as it did, her head popped off of the pillow, mouth biting her bottom lip, eyes squinted with lust, and she looked directly at the mirror. He froze again, afraid that she'd heard him but she didn't hesitate, didn't stop driving her fingers into herself and as she began to come he was looking directly into her eyes. 

The next morning at breakfast he was jittery, drinking coffee and pushing his food around his plate, lost in thought when she sat down with him. 

"Morning, how'd you sleep?" 

He looked up, startled, and for a moment could think of nothing to say. 

"Connor?" 

"Uh, yeah, I slept ok. Watched a little TV and then kind of passed out."

"Watch anything good?" she asked, no hint of a smile, face a picture of innocence.

He sat for a moment with his mouth open and then fought down a laugh. He cocked his head slightly to the side, studied her while she continued to stare back in guiltlessly, but something in her expression made him think she had known he had been watching her, but he couldn't be sure.

"Yeah, there was a show on late that was pretty interesting. Cuban reality stuff."

"Oh, my Spanish isn't good enough yet to get all that."

"How was the rest of your night? How did you sleep?" he asked, unsure what to say next. 

"Oh, I slept amazingly last night. Like a guardian angel was watching me," she answered with a small smile and took a drink of her tea. 

Connor was on fire all day. It was one of those days that he could do no wrong, and he made huge progress on the negotiations the firm had sent them to Cuba he was utterly compartmentalizing because only a portion of his mind was on the work. She and the others were there with him but she was the only one he was aware of, and every moment and second was electric and a struggle for him to focus. The forefront of his thoughts, the focus of his drive, was on getting through the day and getting back to the hotel and immediately getting into the space between the rooms. 

Every time he glanced in her direction an image of her naked on her bed staring at him as she pleasured herself was juxtaposed over the reality of what he was seeing. The crisp white blouse and professional skirt she wore as she bent over the desk to point out some specific language in a contract disappeared in his mind and instead she was naked and bending over the desk to allow him to take her from behind in front of the others. 

When she sat down on a low couch and crossed her legs, he pictured her spreading them instead, and beckoning him forward to kneel between them and push his tongue and fingers inside her. When she stood and stretched, blouse drawing taut across her shoulders, breasts and stomach, he pictured her posing the same way in front of him, nude while he photographed her from every angle. When it was finally time to finish for the day, the cab ride back to the hotel was seemingly endless, and the elevator ride somehow even longer. 

Once he was in his room, he threw his jacket and shirt on his bed, stepped out of his shoes and in his t-shirt and slacks, went straight to the closet to make his way into the space between the rooms. He'd been thinking about the design of the space, and he has a theory he was anxious to check. He waited and watched as she undressed in her room, discarding her clothing, piece-by-piece, and then naked turned on her music and the water in her shower. When she was in the shower and washing her hair, he moved to check his theory. 

It took time to find what he was looking for, a catch that opened the back of the closet into her room from the passage. He stepped into her room and shut the panel behind him as the noise from the shower stopped. Matt Nathanson's voice hummed out from her ipod speakers and Connor pondered the insanity of what he was doing. He could lose his job, his career, and his license. Christ, he could end up in a Cuban jail for the rest of what could be a fairly short life, but he didn't change his mind and flee the room. 

When she walked out of the bathroom, toweling her hair, another towel wrapped around her torso, he didn't move. He realized he'd been holding his breath when she let out a yelp of surprise and jerked a hand to her chest. 

"Fuck! Connor, you scared the piss out of me. What are you doing? How did you get in here?"

"I walked through the wall," he answered quietly, not moving. 

"Through the...," she began, and then realization leapt in her eyes, lighting them up. "You came through the wall? You were watching me weren't you? Last night and before. I knew it," she finished, her face unreadable.

"I found a passage between the rooms. The mirrors are like windows. I couldn't help but watch you." 

"So what are you doing here?"

"Hoping that you knew I was watching and that you didn't mind, that you wanted me to do more than watch." 

She stood for a moment without speaking and his heart began to pound, a flush spreading through him as he wondered what she would say or do next. His answer came when she walked toward him. She stopped just in front of him, inches away, and looked up at him, licked her lips and then whispered with a small smile, "I knew you were watching. I smelled your cologne and heard you. I wanted you to see me."

He kissed her then, hands moving to her arms and then unhooking the towel that hid her from him. The kiss was tentative at first, but her lips were soft, and it grew into something far more passionate. He picked her up, hands under her ass and behind her thighs and her legs went around his waist automatically. He carried her to the bed sat down so that she was on his lap, legs still wrapped around him. She tugged at his t-shirt and they continued to kiss, breaking only long enough so that she could tug it over his head. Her nipples were hard and he could feel them against his chest so he moved his mouth to cover them, one and then the other. He sucked them into his mouth, rolled them with his lips and tongue, nipped lightly at them as she moaned above him.  

His hands were on her lower back, her ass, her upper thighs, everywhere on her body as his mouth traveled everywhere it could reach with her there on his lap. Her hands moved between them and struggled at his waist, unhooking his belt and then his pants. He made a frustrated growl and stood, still holding her and then turned to set her on the bed and free himself from his pants. He kicked free of them frantically and was on top of her, kissing her again, weight on his knees and elbows, one hand caressing her breast and the other her face as he kissed her again madly. He could feel the heat and wetness of her underneath him and he moaned into her mouth. 

Suddenly her hand was on him, around him, and he made a sharp intake of breath, and before he could breath out again, he was inside her. He thrust forward instinctively and her knees rose up to meet him. Her legs were against his sides, heels under his ass, and the movement of legs encouraged him, drove him onward to drive into her faster and faster. 





A Room with a View



Their breathing was ragged, and the moans that were coming out of them mingled into one voice. Abruptly, he slid an arm underneath the small of her back and lifted and turned with one movement so that she was on top of him and he was sitting partially up underneath her. 

"Yes," escaped her in a long sigh, as her shins hit the bed, strong, lean calves against the outsides of his thighs, and palms against his chest. She began to roll her hips, making him slide in and out of her, controlling the depth and making the top of his cock rub against her clit. 

They were both covered in a fine sheen of sweat and flushed, the ancient air-conditioning no match for their exertions. She gripped at the muscles in his shoulders and kissed him hard as his fingers clutched at the hair at the base of her skull. 

"I'm...," he gasped.

"Mmmhmm, me too," she hissed back. "Keep going, hold on, I'll tell you..."

Her movements on top of him became more frenetic, and her breathing faster and deeper. 

"Lauren," he whimpered.

"Yes!" she answered, and he felt her pussy contract around him, the motions of her hips become more irregular and agitated. 

"Lauren!" he demanded.

"Yes! Come, Connor! Come inside me," she said and then closed her mouth on his neck and gripped her arms around him tightly. 

He did with a howl, hands clutching at her, pulsing almost painfully with intensity and pleasure. 

He collapsed backward onto the bed, still inside her, and she collapsed with him, falling forward onto his chest.

She recovered before he did and lifted her head enough to look down at his face. He was still breathing hard and overwhelmed with emotion and pleasure when she spoke.

"Do you think anyone was watching us?"



A Room with a View



I knew her name was Sharon but not a lot more about her. She was about my age, late 30s to early 40s and we lived in the same apartment complex in seperate but adjacent buildings just a stone's throw from the other. Other than intoducing ourselves and exchanging hellos whenever we'd bump into each other in the complex pool or gym, we only had a little small talk with each other so I didn't know much about her. I found her very attractive immediatlely but had heard through the grapevine that she was just out of a bad relationship so I it would be better if I didn't ask her out right away.

But I watched her. She was petite, long red hair, and very fit. Not athletic-like or muscular but one could see she took very good care of her body. The first couple of times I saw her at the pool she wore a sexy one piece yellow bathing suit that held her small breasts perfectly. The next time at the pool she wore a two piece maroon colored bikini with spaghetti straps...I couldn't take my eyes off of her. 

Watching her emerge from the pool with her head tipped back, her long red hair held together from the water, the water dripping off of her skin and her bathing suit was a sight to see. 

If I was near her I kept sneeking glances. Hoping she never caught on to me watching her all of the time. 

I didn't get to know real well as she was a bit mysterious and maybe even a little secretive. But throughout the next month we continued to bump into each other now and then which gave me a chance to learn a little more about her each time. She did open up a bit more and even told me a little about her recent divorce and some 'problems' she mentioned about her ex that she didn't go into...and I didn't ask. I also disovered that our apartments in the adjacent buildings were both on the second level. And this gave me something every teenage boy dreams about...I could see her windows from mine. 

That very night I sat in my bedroom with the lights out, and sure enough I saw her walking from the bathroom to her bedroom. I quickly got my telescope (that I had purchased years ago for a hunting trip) out of the closet and propped it up on the tripod. To my delight there she was, wearing a nightgown, and combing her hair in front of the bathroom mirror. Her hair was wet and I was very disappointed that I missed seeing her come out of the shower. She looked so sexy with her beautiful long red red hair and petite frame.

After combing her hair and brushing her teeth she turned to the widow and looked out. Almost as if she was looking at me. I was startled at first but knew that my bedroom was dark and she wouldn't be able to see me. She soon turned around and the lights and the bathroom went dark. Then the bedroom lights as well..except for a dim night light.......light enough I saw her crawl into bed.

The next day after work I was in the gym just finishing a light workout on the bike and Sharon walked in wearing those tight shorts and a tank top. 

"Hi Joe," she said cheerfully.

"Hi Sharon. How are you?" I replied in a jittery and nervous voice.

I imediately turned red! My heart was beating but I mangaged to bluff my embarassment to just being startled...which was partially true. I felt a little guilty for watching her last night and found it difficult to make converstaion. But after some small talk her warm personality soon put me at ease.

"Joe, would you spot me on the weight bench? Most of the time when I'm in here I'm all alone or maybe one other that I don't know well enough asking to help me".

Like her I'm small framed as well. I'm 6' 2" but quite thin and not muscular by any means but I am fit and probably stronger than most would think by looking at me. I was really flattered that she asked me and didn't wait for one of the young jocks to come in.

"Sure, I'll help you. I didn't figure you for a weight lifter," I said jokingly.

"Well I don't want a female body builder's physique but I like to stay fit and active."

I was more than happy spot her and helped her set up some weights. As she laid down on the bench our eyes locked for a couple of seconds and we both giggled a bit like a couple of embarassed teenagers. 

She grabbed the barbell and started doing some presses. As impressed as I was by the strength she had in that tiny body of hers I couldn't help but just watch her and fantasize about her sexy tight body under her clothes. And even though she had on a sports bra and top, her nipples were pushing through. Subtley to someone who wasn't paying attention but obvious to me, of course. 

After the weights I was hoping she'd stay around for a while but explained she was meeting up with her family for dinnner and had to run.

As she touched my arm she said "Thank you, Joe. Now I know who to call next time."

"Any time, Sharon. It was fun to have someone to visit and work out with for a change. Have fun with your family tonight."

I hadn't seen her in the next couple of weeks and just thought she had some unpredictable hours at work. That is, I didn't see her at the pool or gym etc. But I did watch her nearly every night. My new found hobby of voyeurism continued on. And it kept getting better and better. 

Almost every night I watched her. That first night I saw Sharon she had on a nightgown. A few nights later it was a silk top and silk boxer shorts. A few nights after that it was a tank top and panties. 

Some nights the shades were closed and I didn't see her at all. Some nights they were open but I still hadn't seen her naked yet. One night when her bedroom shades were open I saw her come in with a laundry basket full of clothes which she set on the bed. She then started to strip down rather slowly. 

She was facing almost directly toward her window, giving me a front view of her while she took her clothes off. WOW! I couldn't believe how lucky I was and to my delight she exposed a red lacy bra and matching thong. She was incredibally sexy. She faced her mirror and admired her own sexy body, making a couple of sexy poses. She even cupped her breasts as she looked at herself changing positions from frontal to side views.

After playing in front of the mirror she took clothes out of the laundry basket and started putting them away in her dresser and closet. She was wearing only a bra and thong and looked so hot while she folded her clothes. Watching her doing simple house chores dressed the way she was, and bending over to the lowest drawer on her dresser was such a turn on. 

What she did next was almost too much. She walked to her closet and with her back to me she unhooked her bra and tossed it in the hamper. Then she slowly pulled her thong down her smooth legs. I could only see her back and sexy firm ass but I couldn't believe I was seeing her naked. It lasted probably less than a minute and she pulled out a white silk robe that was barely long enough to cover her butt. 

She turned out the lights to her bedroom and then I saw the lights go on in the bathroom. To my dismay the shades were pulled in the bathroom window and thinking I had had a lot of excitement for the night (not to mention having to get up very early the next morning) I decided to turn in.

Each time I watched was better than the last. One night she wore that same white satin robe that barely...just barely covered her pussy and sexy ass. It was untied and the front was slightly open. She disappeared into the living room and came back a few minutes later. This time her robe was tied shut but it was short enough I was sure she hadn't any panties on. I also noticed her nipples were very hard that night...poking through the thin fabric.

The next day after work we ran into each other at the pool. I was climbing out after a dive off the board and saw Sharon soaking up some sun in a lawn chair right in front of me. With a new bathing suit. This one was a white two piece and skimpier than the last one. 

There was less fabric coverig her lovely small breasts, and though her legs were crossed I just guessed there was less covering her pussy as well. 

Unlike the last time we ran into each other I was pretty cool and said hello to her with a smile and more confidence. I took the chair next to her and started a very nice conversation. It was quite a relief to just visit with her and in just 15 minutes we actually covered quite a bit about our personal lives. 

I was just about to ask her out when her phone rang. She was on call and had to go into work for a while. She sincerely apologized for having to leave and even placed her hand on my thigh. She stood up facing me and I was able to see up close how gorgeous she was...and giving me that view of her sexy ass as she walked away was worth not being able to ask her out.

Finally the very next night it happened. Sharon walked into the bathroom with that same sexy robe. It was untied and open. She bent over the tub and I saw her bare ass..very nice. It looked as though she was filling the tub for a bath instead of a shower. She turned around facing the window and slowly pulled the robe off of her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

For the first time I saw her completely naked. She cupped her breasts and even rubbed her pussy...and then tasted herself. She looked right at the window....as if right at me...as if she knew I was watching. 

She had a body a 20 year old woman would be jealous of. Firm, small perky breasts, tight buns, a shaven pussy. She then tested the water with her foot and settled in. She left the shower curtain open and I watched her wash her hair and soap up her tits and body. I was naked as well and was stroking my hard cock as I watched and became more and more horny.. She took the shower head and rinsed her hair and then her upper body of the white soapy suds. 

Even though I couldn't see much below her bresats because of the tub wall I could tell she was now holding the shower head against her pussy. Her head was arching back and her mouth was agape as if she was moaning in pleasure. I kept stroking myself and was ready to cum but wanted to wait as long as I could. She was in the tub no more than twenty minutes but long enough to give me a good show.

She dried herself off and retreated to her bedroom as normal and dropped the towel on the floor. Then she walked right up to the widnow. She massaged her breasts for a few seconds and gave a little smile. Then her right hand slid down to her pussy while her left hand pinched her nipples. I could have watched her for hours but it lasted no more than a minute. She then tasted her wetness, slowly licking and sucking her fingers.

She laid on top of the covers on her bed and spread her legs. She had even moved the bed a little closer to the window. I couldn't believe what I saw...Her hand running up and down her pussy....her fingers sliding in and out. Watching her facial expressions was more of a turn on than watching her masturbate. I wish i could have heard her heavy breathing and moans but it was so erotic to just watch. At last I could see her body tense up and squirm. 

I couldn't hold back any longer and suddenly I shot my load over my leg and the floor. I was so backed up that it was the most cum I had ever dischared. The longest and most intense orgasm I'd ever had. I watched her a few more minutes as her spasms subsided and finally she drifted off to sleep.



I knew that Sharon knew I was spying on her and knowing that she was putting on a little show for me was a huge turn on. I laid on my bed naked thinking about Sharon's naked body. How she touched herself, how I'd love to feel her naked body next to mine. I couldn't sleep at all that night. I needed some more relief and after jerking off again, while imagining fucking Sharon in her bed, I finally went to sleep. 

I didn't have to to to work the next day and was able to sleep in. At 10am I was having my coffee listening to the news on tv when I noticed an envelope at the bottom of my front door. Inside was a letter to me:

"Dear Joe,

I'm so sorry I had to cut our conversation short at the pool the other day. I really didn't want to leave at all! And I know you've been watching but don't be embarassed or feel guilty. I like it very much.

But I think we might have more if you ask me out sometime!!(:

Sharon...."

****

And that's another story....



A Room with a View



The recession hit our town especially hard. The layoffs of 2,000 people at the biggest factory in town had a boomerang effect: everyday Mom & Pop stores on Main Street began closing because of fewer shoppers; larger stores laid-off or reduced hours for their workers for the same reason. The county government felt the shortfall in tax revenue and also laid-off workers. I was 22 years-old and got caught up in this. I was laid-off, too.

The chances of finding another job in town were slim and none. I had a high school diploma but no college. Guys like me were everywhere. I competed with college graduates for janitorial jobs. I knew what had to be done: I had to get out town before I blew through all my savings.

I moved to the city and found a place to live. I discovered the economy wasn't much better there. I settled for a job at a convenience store because it was within walking distance, and I figured I'd find something better after I had more time to look. Unfortunately, I worked the day shift 9 to 5:30 and had little time to look for anything else.

I liked my apartment though. It was on the first floor of an old house. It had a living room/kitchen, a bathroom, and a small bedroom. It was perfect for me. I didn't need anything larger. I never had friends over – I didn't have any. I didn't know anyone in the city, and the people I worked with were older, and just wanted to go home after work.

That was fine with me. I spent my free time browsing the internet on my laptop, or I'd watch a ballgame on television.

Anyway, I was on my laptop one night at the small table in my bedroom when I thought I heard a noise. I couldn't identify it but it seemed to be coming from the house next door. I pushed the side of the curtain open just far enough to look out. The house was only a few feet from my window, and the drapes on the window opposite mine were open. In the two weeks I'd lived there, I'd never seen them open.

Straight across from me was a loveseat. Next to that was a large mirror, and in the mirror I could clearly see a large bed, Queen-sized? King? I didn't know, but I it was obvious that I was looking into my neighbor's bedroom.

Suddenly, from the right (from the living room, maybe?) a man came into view. I recognized him as my neighbor. I went to my knees figuring he wouldn't be able to see me that way. 

He was wearing a robe, and he held a thick leather belt in his right hand while his left hand was still out of my sight. Then, I saw his left hand entangled in someone's hair. He was dragging someone by the hair. Then I saw the person who was being dragged, it was a boy, around my age and he was naked. The man was dragging a naked boy along the carpet by his hair!

Just before the man was about to sit on the loveseat, he took off his robe and threw it on the floor beside the bed. Now he was naked, too. I couldn't help but look at the erect penis bobbing before him. It had to be seven inches long. I'd never seen anything like that.

The man sat on the loveseat and pulled the boy up by his hair, grabbed him by the neck, then pulled him face down across his lap. Then he raised the belt high in the air and brought it viciously down on the boy's bare bottom. The boy's cry of pain was muted by the window panes separating us. 

I was afraid – what should I do? I wondered. 

I watched helplessly as the man belt-whipped the naked boy over-and-over again. I felt myself tremble and shake. I wanted to run over there and stop the merciless beating but I was frozen with fear. I saw the boy's face contorting in pain – his mouth open wide, screaming in vain. All I could do was watch. I felt so ashamed!

My neighbor threw down the belt and pushed the boy to the floor. He sat back in the seat and opened his legs. The boy slowly rose to his knees. I watched in amazement as the beaten boy took hold of the man's hard cock and lowered his mouth over the purple cockhead. The boy sucked my neighbors cock.

I was stunned – I was confused. 

The boy's head bobbed up and down on the man's enormous shaft. I couldn't tear my eyes away. I was mesmerized by the sucking. Suddenly, the man grabbed the boy's ears and began thrusting his hips and forcing his cock deeper into the boy's mouth. I saw the man's body stiffen then jerk wildly. I guessed he was cumming in the boy's mouth. Then the man relaxed and sat back. The boy's hand held the shrinking penis and he appeared to be licking it clean.

My neighbor stood up and went to the window. He closed the drapes.

Oh my God! What was that about? I wondered.

I was tired and decided to go to bed. I shut off the lights, stripped to my boxers, then climbed into bed. I couldn't sleep. The scene replayed itself in my mind over and over. 

My penis became hard – again. My penis was hard when I watched it the first time. I pulled my shorts down and played with myself. My penis-head was still slick with the earlier pre-cum. I stroked my cock faster-and-faster – it felt sooo good!

It was one of my better orgasms! I fell asleep.

In the morning, before I left for work, I peeked out the side of my curtain: his drapes were still closed. I frowned at myself and wondered why I even looked.

His house was on my way to work so I passed it twice a day. I'd never really looked at it before. A small house with a screened-in front porch; it was well kept and had a new paint job. I once saw my neighbor watering the bushes, but I didn't remember much about him until last night. 

I guessed him to be forty-five or fifty, with black hair, about four inches taller than me and fifty pounds heavier. Not fat, either. He was in good shape. He had a handsome face, too. I would never have guessed he liked boys.

I was glad when I got to work so my mind would be occupied with something else.

Quitting time came and I walked home. I slowed my pace as I approached his house. I tried not to be obvious as I snuck glances at the house. When I went up the sidewalk to my place I looked between the houses. The window I guessed to be his bedroom was far enough to the rear that you couldn't see it from where I was standing. I quickly figured that his bedroom window was visible only to my window.

I went inside and changed clothes. I fought the urge to see if his drapes were open. That didn't last long. I took a quick peek: they were open, but the room was dark.

I ate dinner debating with myself what I should do. What kind of guy am I? I asked myself. A peeping Tom – a voyeur – a pervert? I invaded the privacy of two consenting adults, although I wasn't sure about the 'consenting' part. Why in the world did two guys having sex fascinate me? I'm not homosexual – I never even thought about it before! I couldn't get it out of my mind.

After dinner I went to my bedroom and fired-up my laptop. While it was booting, I snuck a quick peek: the drapes were open and the light was still off. I devised a make-shift hook that held a small portion of my curtain open, enough so I'd be able to see if his bedroom light came on. I guess this was an admission on my part that I wanted to watch.

It was getting late. I felt disappointed. Suddenly I saw a light flicker from my window. I quickly turned off my table lamp. I went to the window and knelt on the rug and peeked into my neighbor's bedroom window.

They came into my view: they stood facing each other, their arms around one another, they kissed. I had a side view. They stood and fondled each other's cocks and balls. They kissed passionately – gone was the violence from the previous night. Soon they both had erections. The boy knelt before the man. He kissed and licked the man's hard cock. He licked his balls. He took the man's balls into his mouth. I was amazed he could fit the entire scrotum in his mouth. He sucked the man's balls.

I opened the curtain wider certain the man couldn't see me. I was wearing just boxers and I slid my hand inside. I rubbed my own stiff cock. 

The boy suddenly stood and the man led him to the loveseat. The man sat down. The boy turned around, he was facing me now. His hard cock bobbing before him, pointing straight at me.

He kind of looks like me! I thought. Same height and weight – same light brown hair. Even his penis looked like mine: average length and width, and uncircumsized, too. 

The boy positioned his bottom inches above the man's cock. I had an idea what would happen next, but I couldn't believe the boy could do it.

The boy's hand reached back and grasped the base of the man's cock; he placed the cockhead against his anus and pushed down. The man's seven inch cock slowly disappeared into the boy's asshole. I was flabbergasted! In a matter of seconds, the boy was impaled by the entire cock.

I expected the boy to cry out and howl in pain, instead, a calm, blissful look spread on his face. A slight smile curled the corners of his mouth. Then he began rising and lowering his hips. He slid up the man-pole until just the head was inside him, then he pushed down and took it all inside again.

I began breathing harder and my own hand moved faster on my hardness.

The man reached around the boy and took hold of his bobbing penis. He stroked it. I watched him masturbate the boy. A wide smile appeared on the boys face. The boy began fucking faster-and-faster – raising and lowering himself on the man's cock at a quickened pace. The man's hand furiously stroked the boy's cock. 

Through the window panes, I heard the faint cries of both of them as they came. I watched in fascination as the boy ejaculated spurt-after-spurt of cum into the air. That did it for me: my own cock exploded! I couldn't help myself -- I cried out in ecstasy. 

When I finished cumming, I looked to see if they heard me. I don't think they did.

They stood, they embraced, they kissed. Then the man closed the drapes.

I was tired – spent. I shut off the computer and went to bed. I thought I'd fall asleep right away, but I didn't. I still couldn't believe the boy was able to take the man's cock in his ass – and I couldn't believe how much the boy loved sliding up-and-down the man's seven inch cock.

My penis was getting hard again thinking about what I had just witnessed. I didn't think about anything anymore – I just stroked my cock until I had another mind-numbing orgasm.

Then I fell asleep.

I didn't have to work the next day. I showered, shaved and fixed a light breakfast. It was a beautiful day so I decided to take a book and read on the front porch. I sat in the chair that was closest to my neighbor's house.

I couldn't concentrate on the book. I wondered what was wrong with me. I thought of Annie, my high school sweetheart. How much I enjoyed being with her. How much I loved it when I finally persuaded her into giving me hand-jobs. I thought of the time in the back seat of my car when we 'went all the way'. We only 'did it' once though. She said we should wait for marriage. She broke up with me not long after that. 

And then it occurred to me how naïve I was. I really didn't know much about pleasing women. I didn't know much at all about sex. I suddenly felt sad and alone. I concentrated on reading my book.

The sun was getting high in the sky, and it was hot. I was thinking about going inside when I heard a lawn mower power-up. It was my neighbor. The noise came from behind his house; he was obviously mowing his back yard. I decided to stay on the porch.

I waited. He finally began mowing his front yard. I pretended to be reading, but I watched his every move. He was almost nude. The only piece of clothing he wore was very brief gym shorts. His body glistened with sweat and I watched his muscles flex and relax as he pushed the lawn mower. 

I furrowed my brow when I thought to myself how beautiful he looked. I never, ever had been attracted to a man in my life, and now these feelings confused me.

When he was finished mowing the lawn and he disappeared, I went inside. I felt weak. My heart was heavy. I sat at my computer for a few minutes then I had a thought. I peeked at his window. The drapes were open and the bedroom light was on. I waited on my knees. 

I guessed right: I saw him stand before the mirror; he had a towel and was finishing drying himself from his shower. His penis hung limply. I stared at it. I wondered what it would be like to be with him. 

He walked to the window and stood facing me. I briefly panicked – it was like he knew I was watching. He appeared to be looking down at the bushes that separated our houses. My penis became fully erect as I stared at him. He reached for the drapes and closed them. I wasn't sure, but I thought the last thing I saw was a smile on his face.

I lay on my bed and thought about him while I masturbated – I couldn't help myself.

I was on my computer the rest of the day – waiting. Waiting for darkness and waiting for the light in his bedroom to go on. I regularly checked his drapes. Nothing. I waited until midnight – nothing. I fell asleep feeling a heavy sadness.

The next day was the same. His drapes stayed closed all day and all night. I couldn't get him out of my mind. I masturbated 3-4 times that day – I lost count.

The next day I went back to work. I was glad to get out of the house. The fresh air felt good on my face. I snuck a peek at his house as I passed by; there was no movement.

It was a hectic day at work. Whatever could go wrong – did! I had no time to think. I was grateful. I snuck a peek at his house on my way home. Still no movement. When I reached the front door of my apartment I saw a small package on the floor. It had a yellow ribbon and bow on it. I picked it up and went inside. I figured it was from my mother. I laid it on my bed and stripped to my boxers – I didn't bother to wear anything else at home anymore. Then I opened the package.

There was a neatly folded letter on top of two items of clothing. I put the letter aside and looked at the clothes: one pair of sheer, diaphanous pale pink panties, and what looked to me to be a leather jock strap. Fear and excitement coursed through my body. My hands trembled as I unfolded the letter and read it:

Dear Cutie,

I know you've been watching me in my bedroom. I don't mind. I trust I've fueled your imagination, and provided you with numerous, powerful orgasms. It is my desire to continue 'our relationship'.

You have by now examined the articles of clothing I enclosed. I want you to wear the leather thong under your work slacks. The thin leather strip should fit snugly between your sweet bottom-cheeks. I want you to feel the leather against your anus while you work, in that way, I will always be in your thoughts. Once you are home, the thong should be removed and washed with soap and water.

I want you to wear the pink panties while you are watching me. From the moment I saw you, I pictured you wearing panties. Call it a fetish of mine -- 'Pretty panties for a pretty boy'!

I want you to masturbate inside the panties. I think you will enjoy the exquisite feeling of the sheer material against the flesh of your hard penis. No matter how many times you cum in your panties, you will not remove them until the next morning. Prior to your leaving for work, clean your panties with soap and water and hang them over the shower curtain rod to dry.

Tonight at 8 o'clock I will be 'breaking-in' a new boy. I want you to watch. I want you to imagine it is you in the bedroom with me. Wear only your panties. Enjoy!

Your Admirer

OH MY GOD!!! WTF??? 

Shame and humiliation flooded my mind. I re-read the letter four times. I was busted – he thought I was some kind of pervert! 

I have to get out of here – I have to move, my mind screamed. I sat motionless on the bed a long time. 

I knew I didn't have the money to move. I knew I had to stay here. What could I do? How do I respond to this? Should I be angry? I was a peeping-Tom and he caught me. 

I looked at the time, it was five-minutes-before-eight. I sighed. I knew what I had to do.

I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my boxers and pulled them down and kicked them free. I picked up the pink panties and slid them up my legs and over my hips. I took my place by the window, on my knees. 

I watched and waited. My heart was pounding in my chest.

They appeared in the bedroom. I did not recognize the boy. He had the same build, and hair color as me. The boy had on shorts and a button-down shirt. My neighbor wore only gym shorts. He tried to pull the boy to him; he tried to put his arms around the boy. The boy would have none of it.

Suddenly, my neighbor reared back and slapped the boy hard across the face. I heard a muted shout of pain. The man grabbed the boy and wrestled him to the floor. He pinned him to the floor. The man clawed at the boy's shirt and ripped it open – buttons flew everywhere. He tossed aside the tattered garment. He pinned the boy's arms over his head. He held the boy's two wrists in one strong hand. He planted his knee on the boy's chest; the boy was helpless. The man opened the boy's pants then in one motion, yanked down both his pants and underwear. The boy was now naked. There was a look of terror on his face.

I wasn't sure what was going on. Was this real, or were they play-acting for my benefit? I felt my penis stir inside the panties.

The man pulled down his gym shorts exposing his angry, purple-headed member. He presented it to the boy's face; the boy turned his head. The man slapped his face again; he reached between the boy's legs and found his balls – he squeezed them – hard! The boy screamed in agony. The man once again held his hard penis before the boy's face. With tears in his eyes, the boy began kissing the hard cock. 

The man straddled the boy's chest, pinning him down. Escape was impossible. The man fed more and more of his cock to the boy's mouth. The man must have told the boy to suck his cock because suddenly the boy opened his mouth wide, and his lips engulfed the hardness. He slid his lips up-and-down the man's cock.

My own cock was now fully erect. I reached down and rubbed it through the sheer material of the panties. I groaned.

The man had the boy's arms pinned to the floor, as well. He grabbed the boy's ears and pulled them upward forcing more of his cock into the boy's mouth. He began to brutally face-fuck the boy by pulling and pushing the boy's head. Then he held the boy's head still and pumped his hips back and forth. I watched his cock plunge into the boy's mouth then back out to the tip then back into his mouth again. 

I was breathing harder; stroking my penis faster and faster.

The man pulled his cock out of the boy's mouth and pumped it rapidly with his hand. The man squatted over the boy's face. Suddenly, gobs and gobs of white cum shot from the man's cock onto the boy's face. 

I couldn't hold back any longer. "UUUUGGGHHHHH..." I cried out as my cock exploded and filled my panties with cum.

When I regained my composure, I watched the man rub his softening penis over the boys face, smoothing out his cum over his skin. He was obviously going to make the boy 'wear' the cum on his face. Then he presented his penis to the boy's mouth. The boy immediately licked the greasy cock clean.

The man got off the boy and sat on the loveseat. I saw the man say something to the boy; the boy struggled to his knees and moved between the man's legs. The man hooked his arms under his legs; pulled his legs back and upwards then spread his legs apart. Even where I was kneeling, I could clearly see the man's anus. His lips moved again; the boy leaned his face forward close to the man's asshole; suddenly the boy stopped; he shook his head from side to side refusing the man's request.

The man was strong, and quick! He scooped up the boy and forced him face down over his lap. He raised his hand high and brought it down hard on the boy's bottom. He spanked the boy long and hard. I could hear the man's hand smacking the boy's bottom-cheeks. 




A Room with a View



My penis stiffened inside my panties. I watched the boy's bottom grow redder and redder. I wondered what it would be like to have a strong man hold me down and spank my bottom.

The man opened his legs and the boy fell to the floor. The boy was sobbing. The man raised his legs again exposing his asshole. The boy immediately buried his face between the man's thighs. 

The boy didn't hesitate any longer. His lips kissed all around the asshole. His tongue licked at the hole. The man said something and the boy curled his tongue and pushed it into the man's anus. The boy's face was pressed tightly against the man while he tongue-fucked the man's asshole. I wondered how the boy could breath. The boy's tongue licked the man's asshole a long time.

My gaze shifted to the man's growing cock. It was responding to the boy's tongue. It grew long and thick. My breath quickened at the sight of it. I reached down and squeezed my hard penis through my cum-soaked panties.

The man suddenly stood up. He pulled the boy to his feet by his hair. He said something to the boy, and the boy tried to pull away. 

Not very smart, I thought. He was going to get it now.

The man yanked the boys arm behind his back and twisted it. The boy's face contorted in pain. The man forced the boy to the bed. The bed was out of my view, but I could still watch everything in the mirror.

I watched the man reach between the boy's legs. He took hold of the boy's balls. He said something; when the boy didn't obey the man squeezed his balls. I heard the boy scream. If that were me, I would do whatever the man wanted!

I watched as the boy lowered his head and shoulders on the bed. The man squeezed his balls again and the boy quickly spread his legs wide apart. The man said something and the boy reached behind him and pulled apart his bottom-cheeks. The man released the boy's balls and went to the bureau in front of the mirror. The boy didn't move.

I stared at the man's cock as it bobbed before him. So stiff – so proud, I thought.

The man stood behind the boy. He had a small bottle of clear liquid and he applied liquid on his middle finger. He rubbed his finger around the boy's exposed anus. He dripped more fluid on his finger and slowly pushed the finger into the boy's hole. 

He's lubricating the boy's bottom-hole, I thought. 

He applied more liquid, and soon, his entire finger was inside the boy. I could see the boy's face in the mirror; he was moaning; he had a surprised look on his face. The man worked his middle finger in and out of the boy's asshole. 

I held my breath as the man removed his finger and took hold of his cock and placed it on the boy's anus. When the man grabbed the boy's hips and pulled him back onto his cock I nearly swooned. My cock throbbed in my panties.

The man began a slow, steady back-and-forth fucking of the boy's asshole. I watched every inch of his cock go into the boy then reappear. The boy started to respond. He pushed his hips back to meet the man's thrusting penis. They settled into a rhythmic, unhurried fucking. 

I wondered what his cock would feel like inside of me. I stroked my penis faster.

The man said something and the boy began masturbating. The boy timed his stroking with the hard cock fucking his ass. Soon they moved faster-and-faster; the man pulled the boy's rectum onto his cock with a sudden urgency. He gave a mighty plunge into the boy's hole then cried out. The man bucked and jerked wildly. He filled the boy's bottom-hole with cum. I watched as the boy's penis shot load-after-load of semen onto the bedspread. 

"OH-GOD-OH-GOD-OH-GOD..." I shouted, as I filled my panties with cum once again.

When I looked up, the boy was still bending over. He was pulling apart his bottom-cheeks. I watched, mesmerized as the man's cum oozed from the boy's hole. It was the most erotic thing I'd ever seen. 

Suddenly, the man was standing before me by his window. He paused; I looked at his chiseled face, his broad shoulders, his sculpted chest and his beautiful penis. My heart skipped a beat.

He smiled at me as he closed the drapes.

I collapsed on my bed. My pantied-crotch soaked with cum. The smell of semen drifted in the air. 

The next morning I worked hard at cleaning the panties. Crusty, dried cum, I discovered, wasn't the easiest thing to remove from this material.

I felt refreshed and invigorated. I wasn't at all self-conscious or embarrassed. I wore the leather thong under my work slacks. When I put it on, I remembered his letter and pulled the thin strip tight between my bottom-cheeks. The feel of the leather pressed on my anus was actually exhilarating, but I had to remind myself throughout the day not to 'pick my butt'; it belonged there.

And, he was right! Wearing the leather thong did make me think of him. I was happy at work, but the hours seemed to last forever.

I was wearing my panties and on my knees at ten-minutes-to-eight. I thought it was the right thing to do. My penis was already erect when they entered the bedroom.

The boy was much more docile and willing than last night. They embraced, kissed and caressed each other. When they were naked, the boy dropped to his knees and sucked the man's cock. The rest of the night was a blur.

In my mind, that was me over there. Those were my lips and tongue on his cock; that was my mouth receiving his cum. It was my tongue licking his asshole. That was my mouth filled with his balls. And, finally, that was me bending over, me spreading open my bottom-cheeks and it was me offering my asshole to him.

I'd cum in my panties three times. He winked at me as he closed the drapes.

All next day I had the feeling something wasn't quite right. I didn't know what it was; emptiness gnawed at my belly. I was overcome by a tidal wave of loneliness. 

I remembered from his letter the phrase 'our relationship'. Relationship? This is a 'relationship'?

I thought of him and the boy from last night. How they held each other; how they kissed. They weren't just sucking and fucking – they were making love, and I wasn't included. 

I told myself to get a grip on reality. This was insane – this guy was playing with your head. You don't even know his damn name! Go out somewhere – go meet people. This guy is nuts and he's making you crazy, too!

As I walked home the fresh air slapped my face. I felt great! I could see everything clearly now, and it was time to make some changes in my life! I want to live – I don't want to watch other people live.

Then I saw the package at my front door. My heart beat faster as I brought it into my bedroom. I sat beside it on the bed. 

Well, I can at least take a look, I told myself.

It was the first thing I saw in the box. I stared in disbelief. I knew exactly what it was. I lifted it out of the box, and held it in my hands.

It was made of flesh-colored hard rubber. It was very realistic. It was a replica of his hard penis and his balls. I sat with my mouth open – I was dumbfounded.

Also in the box was a long thin, metal rod. It might be the one I watched the boy use last night, I thought. And, there was a small bottle of liquid. I recognized the bottle. Then I saw a red light bulb. Huh? I wondered.

Lastly, there was a letter. I unfolded it and read:

My Darling,

I am very pleased with you. Our relationship grows stronger with each passing day. The hour is fast approaching when we can be together. Be strong, my love – be patient! ..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

It was a long letter but the first paragraph was the most important. I read it ten times. I wanted to laugh; I wanted to cry – what is he trying to do to me? What does he want from me?

I read the rest of the letter again. Instructions. He was telling me how and what I was supposed to do tonight. I read them again. And then I saw his name. He actually signed his name on the bottom of the letter. 

I read the letter one more time. 'My Darling' – 'My Love'....

It was almost 8 o'clock. I screwed in the red light bulb on my table lamp, and turned it on – very sexy, I thought. I went to the window and took a deep breath. I pulled open my drapes. His drapes were open – his bedroom was dark.

I dropped to my knees and held the rubber penis close to my face. I cradled his balls in my right hand; I held his shaft with my left. I kissed the tip of his penis then kissed my way down and up his shaft. I moved my mouth slightly to the right and kissed the tip of his penis then kissed down and back up his shaft. I kept kissing his penis until I'd kissed every inch of it. Then I repeated the whole process using my tongue. 

In my mind this was his penis. I knew he was watching; I did everything I could to make him want me. I kissed his penis. I licked his penis. I kissed his balls. I licked his balls. 

Finally, I sucked his penis. My lips slid up-and-down his shaft. My tongue never leaving his flesh. I was moaning and really getting into it. My cock throbbed inside my panties. I stroked his shaft faster-and-faster. I sucked harder-and-harder. My cock exploded without being touched – jet-after-jet of cum shot into my panties. I gasped for air.

I set down the rubber penis. I stood up, hooked my thumbs in the lacy waistband of my panties and wriggled my hips like a girl as I pulled them down. I held them up for him to see: puddles of cum drenched my panties. I brought the panties to my mouth and cleaned the cum with my lips and tongue. I wiped my face with the wet panties. My fingers wiped the remaining cum off my penis. I licked my fingers clean. I stood naked before him.

I held the metal rod, and lubricant for him to see. I had memorized his instructions, and this was the grand finale. His bedroom was still dark, but I swore I'd heard him groaning during my performance. I was nervous for this one. This act would strip away the last vestiges of dignity and pride I may still have had left.

I turned my back to him, spread my legs, and bent over as far as I could without falling. He had a clear view of my anus. 

The metal rod was seven inches long and an inch in diameter. A smaller girth than his penis. The liquid was a lubricant. I squeezed a couple drops on the end of the rod. I rubbed the rod on my flesh around my anus. I held my breath: I pushed the tip of the rod at my opening. It wouldn't go in easily. I pushed harder.

"OH..." I exclaimed as the smooth metal rod slipped into my asshole. I pushed in a couple more inches. I withdrew the rod and applied lubricant to the rest of the shaft. 

I trembled in anticipation. I pushed the rod back inside me. I pushed it further and further into my asshole. I had to stop once or twice to catch my breath. I focused hard on relaxing my sphincter. The rod slid further into me. 

"You'll know when it's entirely inside you!" he wrote on the instructions.

Suddenly my cock sprang erect. The tip of the rod pushed against my prostate and I swooned in delight. My rectum was completely filled. 

"OOHHHHHHH..." I moaned.

Then I began to fuck my asshole with the smooth, metal cock. I shamelessly presented my neighbor with the vulgar rear view of the rod sliding in-and-out of my hole. I reveled in it! My hips thrust backwards of their own volition to meet the plunging cock. 

"AAAARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH...." I groaned loudly. The feeling in my ass was exquisite. 

I found the discarded panties and draped them over my hard cock. My fist pumped the panties up-and-down my cock while I rammed the metal cock in-and-out of my hole. 

My full concentration was now wanting, no needing, the man to watch me orgasm. I hoped he was playing with his own cock. I hoped he was stroking his seven inch beauty and was ready to cum. I wanted to give him the best orgasm he ever had!

I felt the semen boiling in my balls. I fucked myself furiously and stroked my cock without shame. Then I heard him through the window panes. He shouted out his orgasm – I had made him cum!

Suddenly, my cock erupted like a geyser. Load-after-load of hot cum shot into my panties. 

"I'M CUMMING FOR YOU RICHARD – I'M CUMMING FOR YOU RICHARD – I'M CUMMING FOR YOU RICHARD – I'M CUMMING FOR YOU RICHARD...."

I was still bending over with the tip of the metal cock inside me. I pulled it out and felt my anus close. I turned around and showed Richard the rod. I put it to my mouth and I busily cleaned it with my lips and tongue. 

I held my panties and carefully brought them to my face. I wiped the cum-soaked panties over my face. Every inch of my face was slick with cum.

I stood there smiling. My lips silently formed the words "I love you, Richard."

I closed the drapes and fell on the bed into a deep and satisfying sleep.

The next day my mind was lost in a fog. I went through all the motions, but my head was elsewhere. My bottom-hole was slightly sore, but the leather strip pressing against my anus felt delicious. I was strangely at ease with myself. I had a silly grin on my face most of the day. Even my co-workers noticed.

"You get laid last night?" one of them asked. I just continued smiling.

There was a package at my door when I got home. The sight of it sent thrilling sparks through my body.

I opened it in my bedroom. There was a letter, and a beautiful pink, silk robe. My heart pounded as I unfolded the letter. It read:

Sweetheart,

Your performance gave me two earth-shattering orgasms. I stained the loveseat with my semen, you naughty boy. Your love and devotion for me was most obvious. I feel the same towards you. The time has come for us to make the most of our relationship. I want you to come to my house tonight. I want you to become 'My Bitch-Boy'.

Before you blindly react to this news, I must tell you what will be in store for you. Once you enter my home, there is no turning back -- your life will never be the same. 

You will not be allowed to work – I will take care of your every need. You will not leave the house without me – we will be 'a couple'. Your only responsibility will be to satisfy my sexual and emotional needs. I demand your total devotion and obedience!

I will force you into performing degrading and humiliating acts. I will expect compliance, and once again, total obedience. 

If you disobey me, or disappointment me in any way, you will be punished, and punished severely. You have already witnessed me 'punishing' boys -- I assure you, your punishment will be much, much worse.

Once I have 'trained' you – you will no longer have a mind of your own. You will acquiesce to me in every matter. You will never disagree with me. You will say or do whatever I tell you.

You will work hard to become the best 'Bitch-Boy' you can be. I will have high expectations from you – you will have none for me.

You will belong to me. I will own you. You will become 'My Property'!

Read and re-read this letter. This is the most important decision you will make in your life.

If you decide that you don't love me enough to go through with this, I will understand. However, I will break off all contact with you, and will never want to see you again.

If you choose to accept my terms, our love can only grow and thrive. 

If your answer is 'Yes' – wear only your panties and new robe and come to my house at 8 o'clock. Knock on my door and when I answer say: "Please let me be your bitch-boy, Richard."

I love you!

Richard

I read the letter many times. My mind was a whirling dervish. 

Could I possibly go through with this? How can I even consider becoming a total slave to a man I've never met? I've never spoken with him – I've never heard his voice. He's never touched me – I've never felt his flesh. Why would I want to surrender myself to a stranger for the rest of my life? I'm only twenty-two, I haven't even begun living yet. I can't possibly do this to myself, can I?

It was 8 o'clock. I stood at his front door in my panties and robe. I knocked and waited – it seemed like an eternity before he came to the door.

I swallowed hard and said: "Please let me be your bitch-boy, Richard!"

He smiled. He opened the door and offered his hand. I held his hand as he led me into the house.