She Knew I Was Looking

I thought I was discreet.

That should tell you enough about my judgment.

Her apartment was opposite mine, one floor higher.

I had lived there seven months before I noticed her.

She later informed me this was insulting.

“You took seven months?”

“I wasn’t conducting surveillance.”

“You were apparently conducting nothing.”

Her name was Elise.

Thirty-nine.

Graphic designer.

Owner of approximately fourteen plants and one extremely judgmental cat.

At the time, I knew none of that.

I knew only that she sometimes stood near the window late at night.

I first noticed her on a Sunday.

Then Tuesday.

Then Thursday.

Not because I was watching.

That distinction felt important then.

It feels less convincing now.

The third time, Elise looked directly at me.

I looked away.

Classic.

The fourth time, she looked again.

I pretended to check my phone.

The fifth time she waved.

There is no dignified response to being caught secretly noticing someone who then behaves as though you’re old friends.

I waved back.

The next night she appeared at the window with a piece of paper.

HELLO.

I laughed.

Found paper.

HI.

Her next sign:

YOU ALWAYS LOOK AWAY.

I nearly died.

I wrote:

POLITE.

She read it.

Shook her head.

Then:

COWARD.

That was Elise.

We hadn’t met.

She was already heckling me.

For another week, the signs continued.

WORK LATE?

YES.

YOU?

ALWAYS.

CAT?

EVIL.

I WANT PROOF.

One night she held the cat up.

It looked furious.

I wrote:

CONFIRMED.

The whole thing was strangely addictive.

Then the tone changed.

Elise began standing closer to the window.

I did too.

Sometimes we said nothing.

Just looked.

The distance made honesty easier.

Across thirty metres, eye contact felt safer than conversation.

One evening she opened the window.

I opened mine.

“Hello!” she shouted.

Her voice echoed through the courtyard.

I laughed.

“Neighbours hate you!”

“They already do!”

“Fair!”

“What is your name?”

“Ben!”

“Elise!”

A window below us slammed shut.

Elise laughed.

We closed ours.

The next morning there was an envelope under my door.

BEN.

Inside:

Coffee. Saturday. 10. Lobby.

Underneath:

This is not optional.

I went.

Obviously.

Elise was already sitting outside the café.

The cat was not present.

“You’re real,” she said.

“So are you.”

“Disappointing?”

“Not yet.”

She smiled.

I liked her immediately.

Which was inconvenient.

We drank coffee for two hours.

At some point I said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Probably.”

“When did you realise I was looking?”

Elise frowned.

“Looking?”

“Across.”

“Oh.”

She smiled.

“What?”

“Ben.”

“What?”

“I noticed you first.”

“No.”

“Months before.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You used to eat cereal standing at the sink.”

I stared.

“You watched me eat cereal?”

“You were directly opposite my window.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

I had nothing.

Elise leaned back.

“The first time you think you noticed me? Sunday night?”

“Yes.”

“I was standing there because you’d been standing at your window for ten minutes.”

My brain rearranged several weeks of memory.

“So…”

“I knew.”

“The whole time?”

“Pretty much.”

“Even when you waved?”

“Especially when I waved.”

I covered my face.

She laughed.

“Don’t.”

“This is horrifying.”

“It’s cute.”

“Worse.”

She touched my wrist.

Just briefly.

It shut me up.

“If I didn’t want you looking,” she said, “I wouldn’t have stayed there.”

I nodded.

“I know that now.”

“Good.”

I looked at her.

She looked back.

No glass.

No distance.

Much harder.

“Still looking?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She kissed me.

Not dramatically.

Not for long.

Just enough to remove any remaining ambiguity.

When she leaned back, I realised I had forgotten what I was going to say.

Elise smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re doing the look-away thing again.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“I’m regrouping.”

“That’s adorable.”

“Please stop describing me that way.”

“No.”

We eventually left the café and walked around the block twice because neither of us was quite ready to return home.

At the building entrance Elise pressed the lift button.

“Tonight?”

“What about tonight?”

She raised one eyebrow.

“The windows.”

“Oh.”

“Unless this ruins it.”

I thought about that.

“No.”

“Good.”

The lift arrived.

We stepped inside.

Elise pressed eight.

I pressed seven.

Before the doors opened on my floor, she said, “Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to leave the curtains open.”

I looked at her.

She smiled.

“You can decide what to do with yours.”

The doors opened.

I stepped out.

At ten fifteen, both apartments were lit.

I stood at my window.

Across the courtyard, Elise appeared.

She did not bring a mug.

She brought a dining chair.

She positioned it directly in front of the glass, sat down and crossed one leg over the other.

Then she held up a sign.

SIT.

I laughed.

There was a chair behind me.

I pulled it over and sat.

Elise nodded approvingly.

Another sign.

JUST WATCH.

My mouth went dry.

I gave her a thumbs-up.

She shook her head.

Then wrote:

SAY YES.

I found paper.

YES.

Elise smiled.

She stood and slowly removed her shirt.

No bra.

She had planned this.

That realisation hit me almost as hard as the sight of her breasts.

Elise sat back down.

She spread her knees.

Her skirt rode up her thighs.

Then her hand disappeared beneath it.

I stayed still.

Just watch.

That was the rule.

She touched herself slowly, eyes on me across the courtyard.

No hiding.

No pretending she was doing anything except putting on a show for one specific man.

Me.

I was hard almost immediately.

Elise noticed the shape through my trousers.

She pointed.

Then shook her head.

No.

I laughed in disbelief.

She wanted me to wait.

So I did.

Or tried to.

She pushed the skirt higher, then stood long enough to slide her underwear down.

When she sat again, her legs opened wider.

Her fingers moved between them.

I could not see every detail from the distance.

I didn't need to.

I knew exactly what she was doing.

Elise watched my face while she masturbated.

That was the filthiest part.

The confidence.

The fact that she was studying the effect she had on me.

I shifted in the chair.

She immediately held up one finger.

Wait.

I mouthed something rude.

She laughed.

Then her head tipped back.

Her fingers moved faster.

I watched her body tighten.

When she came, she kept her eyes open.

On me.

Afterwards she stayed in the chair for perhaps thirty seconds, breathing.

Then she picked up the marker.

YOUR TURN.

I unfastened my trousers.

Elise leaned forward.

Interested.

I took my cock out and wrapped my hand around it.

Her smile widened.

Months earlier I had looked away because she'd caught me glancing through a window.

Now I was sitting directly in front of that window, masturbating because she'd told me to.

I stroked myself slowly.

Elise shook her head.

Faster.

I obeyed.

She watched.

No playful signs now.

No jokes.

Her naked body remained framed in the opposite window while I jerked off for her.

When I was close, Elise stood.

She pressed both hands to the glass.

I came watching her.

Hard enough that I had to close my eyes for a second.

When I opened them she was gone.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

8TH FLOOR. DOOR OPEN.

I stared at the message.

Then at her empty window.

Five minutes later I was outside her apartment.

The door was unlocked.

“Elise?”

“Bedroom.”

I found her exactly where I'd last seen her, sitting in the chair by the window.

Still naked.

Up close there was no ambiguity at all.

She looked at me.

“Close the door.”

I did.

“Come here.”

I walked over.

Elise reached for my belt.

“So,” she said, “still discreet?”

“No.”

“Good.”

She pulled my trousers down and took my cock into her mouth.

I grabbed the back of the chair.

The calm control she'd had through the window remained.

She sucked me slowly, eyes on mine, one hand around the base.

I reached down and touched her hair.

“Okay?”

She pulled back.

“If you ask every thirty seconds, I'm going to gag you with your own shirt.”

I laughed.

“Understood.”

“Good.”

She took me deeper.

The laugh disappeared.

I watched her mouth move on me until I was close, then she stopped.

“Not yet.”

“You enjoy that sentence too much.”

“Yes.”

She stood.

“Your turn.”

Elise lay back on the bed and opened her legs.

I dropped between them.

She was still wet from the show across the courtyard.

I kissed the inside of her thigh.

Then put my mouth on her.

Elise swore.

Loudly.

No glass now.

No distance.

Her fingers went into my hair while I licked her, first slowly, then with more pressure when her hips began moving against my mouth.

“Ben.”

I kept going.

She came with both legs tightening around my shoulders.

When I climbed back up, Elise pulled me into a kiss.

“Condoms,” she said, pointing towards the bedside drawer.

I found one.

She watched me put it on.

Then rolled onto her stomach.

I paused.

Elise looked over her shoulder.

“Problem?”

“No.”

“Then come here.”

I moved behind her.

She raised her hips.

I guided myself into her slowly.

Elise exhaled.

“Fuck.”

I stopped once I was fully inside.

“Good?”

“Yes. Now stop being polite.”

I laughed.

Then started moving.

The angle was deep.

Elise pushed back into me, matching each thrust.

I held her hips and fucked her harder.

The window stayed open beside us.

My own apartment glowed across the courtyard.

Empty chair visible near the glass.

Elise looked towards it.

“That where you were sitting?”

“Yes.”

She pushed back harder.

“Good.”

I slapped her ass once.

She looked back.

“Again.”

So I did.

Elise moaned.

That changed something in me.

I gripped her hip and fucked her with less hesitation, the bed shifting beneath us.

She reached between her legs.

I watched her fingers move while I drove into her.

Her body tightened suddenly.

She came around me, swearing into the pillow.

I lasted another minute before I came too.

Afterwards we lay on the bed side by side.

The chair remained at the window.

Elise pointed towards it.

“You know what I liked most?”

“The control.”

“That too.”

“What?”

“You doing exactly what I told you.”

I looked at her.

“Should I be worried?”

“Probably.”

She laughed.

The next morning, I woke to a message.

A photograph of the courtyard.

My empty window.

Underneath:

TONIGHT. YOUR PLACE.

I smiled.

For once, I didn't need her to explain the rules.