Chapter 5
It was the third highball Arthur Webb had mixed for himself that evening. He was indulging in his own private little celebration. There was a genuine excuse for celebrating, for Thelma was going out tonight. She was attending a concert with friends, and she would be gone most of the evening.
Which was just dandy as far as Arthur was concerned. It was a real stroke of luck.
Now he would be free to spend hours with the telescope, viewing the many lurid scenes that were enacted as though for his benefit alone in the apartments across the way.
While he waited anxiously for Thelma to go out the door, he relaxed in the easy chair, sipping a bourbon highball and contemplating the pleasures to come.
He had examined the lighted windows across the way without the aid of the telescope, hoping to see that his 'Gloria' was home tonight. But it was impossible to be certain which windows were hers.
Anyhow, he would know soon enough. If Thelma would just finish primping before her mirror and get the hell out.
Arthur raised his glass in a silent toast and took a swallow. The ice cubes clicked against his teeth. He was really pouring down the liquor tonight, but after all an event like this did not happen every day.
Getting out of his chair, he walked to the kitchen to mix another drink. He had just poured in the soda when Thelma entered, wearing a dark blue evening gown. Her eyes grew hard when she saw the drink in his hand.
"Just because I'm going out, you don't have to make an occasion of it, Arthur," she snapped.
"Of course not, dear." Arthur smiled dutifully. "I'm just planning to relax with a good book."
"You've had enough to drink-"
Taking the glass from his hand, she poured the contents into the sink. Then she walked away without another word. He heard the outer door open and close behind her.
Arthur cursed.
Of course she knew that he was capable of mixing another drink for himself. She had not bothered to hide the bottle. All she had wanted to do was to exert her authority, to show him that she was his master and he was dependent on her. She was just plain nasty to the core.
But there would come a time...
He would have his day, and when he did she would regret all the mean things she had done to him. He smiled wanly. It was the sweetest thing in the world to contemplate the revenge he would have.
He was not yet certain what form it would take. He only knew that there would be revenge.
Before he mixed another drink, Arthur waited five minutes to make certain his wife did not plan to return. There was no sense in wasting good liquor.
Instead of one jigger of bourbon, he poured two over the ice. It was a minor act of defiance. If she had not been so bitchy, he would not be so reckless. But the fact was, he felt a little reckless tonight. The merest taste of freedom acted on him that way.
Carrying his highball, he walked to the bedroom and took the telescope down from the shelf. Working deliberately, savoring every moment of it, he set up the tripod and pulled a chair in front of the window.
He switched out the bedroom light, and he was all set. Before he pressed his face to the eyepiece, he took another good belt of the drink and set the glass on the floor beside him. Then he leaned forward expectantly.
Without a moment's hesitation, he swung the scope along the row of windows until he had found hers. His heart began to pound excitedly, for there were lights in her windows. She must be home tonight!
And she had left the drapes open!
His fingers trembled as he adjusted the focus. Almost as if he were riding a magic carpet, he leaped right into her bedroom. He saw her standing there, as cool and lovely as he had remembered her to be.
Tonight she seemed even more beautiful and desirable. Though perhaps it was the effects of the liquor he had been drinking. Nonsense! Beauty was beauty, and nothing could alter that fact.
Arthur giggled.
He was really wound up tonight. And now that he had her fixed in his lenses like a slide under a microscope, his heart began pumping violently.
She was wearing a pale gold cocktail dress which was a nearly perfect match for her golden hair. He hoped that the dress did not mean that she was going out. That would be a bitter disappointment, for he had counted so much on spending the evening alone with her.
Vicariously anyhow. She would not know he was present, but he would be there anyhow. So long, that is, as she refrained from drawing the shades.
He could not decide why she was just standing there in the middle of her bedroom. She was not gazing into her mirror, for he knew that the mirror was on the opposite wall. Was she talking to someone?
He felt a chill start at the base of his spine and slither upward, into his skull.
That would be a bitter disappointment to find that she was entertaining a man. And if he should see her kiss the man! Or even worse!
It would be enough to drive him into a fit of jealous rage.
But there did not seem to be anyone with her in the room. He watched her lips, which did not move. She was not talking to anyone.
In a moment she turned and walked out of the bedroom, switching off the light. Arthur moved the telescope slightly and picked her up as she came into the living room. Cold sweat was forming in the palms of his hands.
The girl paused for a moment before a wall bookcase, selected a book, and seated herself in an easy chair facing the window. Arthur had a perfect view when she crossed her legs.
He nearly choked with excitement.
There was a moment when he saw her thighs almost to the top of her nylons. Even after she had settled comfortably in the chair, her dress was so high that it did not cover her shapely knees.
She opened the book and began to read.
Arthur looked at her greedily, feeling the hunger swelling up inside him, gnawing at his stomach, heating his blood. His hands clamped tightly around the telescope.
She had the ripest red lips he had ever seen lips that were made for kissing. Her golden hair floated like a halo about her lovely face. Her blouse was open at the neck, exposing the paleness of her throat.
While Arthur watched in fascination, the girl reached up and unbuttoned the top button of her dress. Then she did the same with the next.
The dress fell open to a point below the cleft of her bra. She took a deep breath, and her abundant breasts seemed to grow even larger. A shimmer passed across the white surface of the twin sloping mounds.
Arthur tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. Never had he wanted so much to touch something. He had an unbearable craving to get his hands on those lush young breasts, to watch her eyes dim as he squeezed them gently.
He felt dizzy. The room was suddenly too stuffy. He was choking on his desire for her, and there was nothing that he could do about it.
Nothing.
He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. Then he shook his head sadly.
There must be some way...
If only he had the nerve to walk over and knock on her door. Except that he did not know which door was hers.
Arthur chewed his lip. He tried to convince himself that he would have the nerve if he could reach her door. After all, she was alone. Who was to say that she might not be pleased to have his company?
He leaned down and picked up his glass from the floor. The ice had melted, making the drink weak. It was weak enough that he poured it down until the glass was dry. Then he realized that he had put two shots of bourbon in the highball.
He felt the liquor warming his blood. And all at once he knew that he had the courage to do it.
But which floor did she live on?
Suddenly he had it! The solution was so simple that he could not understand how it had eluded him for so long. Although he could not see the street level of her building, he could count down from the roof. Then he could subtract that number from the total number of floors.
He giggled aloud.
Peering once more through the telescope, he found her window. She was still reading her book. But he would soon offer her a more exciting form of entertainment.
Slowly moving the telescope upward, he counted each bank of windows until he reached the roof of the building. She lived on the seventh floor from the top. He smiled as he put the problem into a mathematical formula. X-7 equals Gloria.
Jumping up quickly, he removed the telescope from the tripod, folded the tripod, and put everything back in the box. Then he ran to the bathroom and made a few passes over his chin with his electric razor.
It took him less than five minutes to dress.
Standing in the street in front of her building, Arthur counted the rows of windows. He was not content with just one counting because his figures must be exact. After checking three times, he determined that the building had twenty-two stories. So she must live on the fifteenth floor.
Now that he possessed this bit of information, it would be a simple matter to find her. If only his courage held out for a little while longer ...
He walked into the building and across to the bank of elevators. At the fifteenth floor he got out and went slowly along the deserted corridor, pausing now and then to get his bearings. He found the wing in which she lived, and then he came to the door that had to be hers.
He rapped quickly, before he changed his mind. And then he felt his face flush. Panic tightened in his chest. He was on the verge of running away, when the door came open.
He nearly gasped aloud, for she was even more beautiful than she had seemed from a distance. Her pale blue eyes looked at him quizzically. The faint smile on her lips was friendly, it revived his courage.
"Good evening-" he murmured. He had almost called her 'Gloria', but of course that would not be her name. "I saw you reading and you looked so beautiful-I thought you wouldn't mind-"
"You saw me?" she asked, lifting her brows.
"Yes yes through the telescope. You see-"
Her laughter was like the sound of bells.
"So you're one of those-"
Her tone of voice did not make it sound dirty. He remembered suddenly that one night she had undressed for his personal benefit, then waved goodbye when she pulled the drapes. After all, she had tempted him to seek her out.
"I live across the way-"
"Yes," she replied. "I guessed that. And I suppose you've watched me getting ready for bed-"
Arthur nodded grimly.
"Well, come in;" she said, laughing gaily, "now that you're here. I've been trying to get interested in a dull book, but I'm not much for reading. Can I fix you a drink?"
"Yes, please-" he said eagerly.
He could hardly believe his good fortune. She really seemed amused to meet one of her admirers face to face. In a moment she returned from the kitchen with two drinks. She sat down beside him on the couch.
"I just knew there were men ogling me. It's become quite a fad, hasn't it? I think it's amusing. Have you seen me in the raw?"
He paused for a moment before he nodded. But her smile was saucy, her eyes provocative. She would not be angry.
"You have a beautiful figure."
"Better than your wife's?" she teased.
Arthur gasped.
"Do you know my wife?"
"No, but I guessed that you had one. You seem like the type. I'm surprised that she lets you have a telescope-"
Arthur tried to think of something to reply, but his mind was a blank. He felt like a damned fool for being here now. He couldn't blame her for teasing him.
She turned on the couch beside him, and he noticed that her dress was still unbuttoned at the top. His pulse throbbed when he saw the gently sloping mounds. They were exposed almost to the edge of her nipples, and there was a lovely soft valley in between.
He had an unbearable urge to reach over and take hold of them, to press the fullness with his fingers and feel the velvety surface.
"Go ahead-" she whispered, as though she had read his mind.
Arthur caught his breath. She had been watching his eyes all the time. In spite of the fact that she was young and lovely, there was a wise look of experience on her face. Arthur knew that she had been around, that she was no virgin. But this knowledge only made her more desirable.
Sliding closer, he put his arm around her shoulder. He was amazed at his own daring. She seemed to melt against him. Her eyes closed. Her lips pursed for kissing. They were the softest, most clinging lips he had ever touched.
Then her tongue was suddenly there, plunging into his mouth like a fiery dart, igniting his blood.
The kiss went on until he felt that he would suffocate. At last he pulled away. His hand rested on her shoulder. He moved it down uncertainly, through the opening of her dress. His fingers tingled at the soft touch of her shimmering flesh. She uttered a low moan.
"You horrid man-" she said with a laugh. "You're getting so fresh, and I don't even know your name.""
"Arthur-" he said huskily.
"I'm Terry," she whispered. "And if you stop what you're doing I'll slap you face."
He felt the trembling softness of her breasts, felt their warmth and the throbbing of her pulse. Boldly he slipped his fingers under the bra and sought one of her nipples. It was hard and firm, a tiny little nib which rolled easily beneath his fingertips.
"Oh, yes-" Terry murmured. "I like what you're doing to me, Arthur. I like you for some crazy reason. Maybe it's because you're here and I was needing a man tonight."
"You could have hundreds of men-" he gasped.
"I'm a man-hater ... didn't you know? I had a louse for a husband, and he ran off with another woman. That cured me for sure ... except now and then I start needing one of the bastards again. You may be a bastard, Arthur but you're a sweet bastard for showing up just when I needed you sooo soooooo-"
Her voice rose an octave and her body lifted up, for he had slipped his hand beneath her skirt. His fingers rested brazenly on her thighs, stroking and caressing. He cupped his hand and clung to the warmth of her.
Her arms tightened around his neck. She pushed up with her belly, ground her hips tightly against his intruding hand. Her whole body was writhing and churning with a voluptuous movement of pure lust.
"Carry me to bed, darling-" she murmured.
Instead of replying, he kissed her hotly on the mouth, plunged into the soft moistness with his tongue. Her tongue shot back in response, darting between his teeth.
He was breathing heavily, inhaling her perfume, which went to his head, leaving him weak and dizzy. It was intimate, sexy perfume, the kind that was designed to trap a man, to make him out of his head with passion.
When they finally broke away, he slipped his arm under her knees and lifted her up. She was lighter than he had expected, but his legs were weak. He was lucky to make it into the bedroom without dropping her.
He laid her on the bed.
At once she finished unbuttoning her dress and tore it away, exposing her pale shoulders and the magnificent thrust of her bosom.
Arthur was vaguely aware of the open drapes as he slipped out of his shirt and trousers. He smiled to think that he was going to put on a show for the Peeping Toms across the way. But it would not be fair to close the shades. He would not like it if he were over there peering through his telescope.
By the time that he had removed all of his clothes, Terry lay naked on the bed. Her blue eyes stared up at him invitingly. Her full lips were pink and swollen.
Arthur dropped down beside her, pulling her close. The soft pressure of her breasts against his naked flesh made him shudder. While he held her in a tempestuous embrace, his hands explored the marvel of her body.
They rolled together upon the mattress as their passion mounted. Looking down, he saw the fullness of her breasts, which stood up firmly. The glowing nipples in the center of her creamy flesh were like two small bright cherries. He had to sample them with his lips.
He seized one jutting nipple and drew it into his mouth. She gasped and clutched at his head as his teeth bit gently. Then he stabbed with his tongue, at the same time drawing the billowy softness deeper into his gaping mouth. She arched up from the bed and gave a pained cry of delight.
"Oh, kiss-" she whimpered. "Just like that
Her hands tore at his hair, pulled against his head, imprisoning him against the quivering flesh. His face was so close to the pale swelling splendor of her body that he felt her trembling with desire, felt her shivering against his feverish cheeks.
She writhed beneath him while he devoured first one breast and then the other with his eager mouth. He dented the soft globes with his fingers, squeezed the fleshy cones until the nipples burst between his lips. She tossed her golden hair and gave a sob of sheer pleasure.
"Oh, baby-" she cried. "I'm on fire!"
Her eyes dimmed with sensual excitement. Her face became a mask of erotic pleasure.
He continued to tease her breasts, his hands squeezing then relaxing, his fingers rolling the hardened nipples while he stabbed them with his tongue.
"You're driving me crazy-" she cried, raising her hips from the bed. "You're driving me absolutely nuts, baby! Whatever you do don't stop-"
Her arms drew tighter around his neck. She pulled on him fiercely, trying to draw him down upon her quaking body. Her seeking thighs rose up.
Then their bodies were glued together, twisting and worming in a pagan dance of lust. He felt the clutching firmness of her thighs, the circling pressure of her legs. Her breasts were soft pillows mashed against his burning flesh. Her whole body ground hungrily against him.
He felt her grow rigid for a moment.
And then she was shaken by a series of violent spasms. He felt her trembling in his arms, felt the hot moist clutching of her body, which was bathed in perspiration.
Her arms tightened around his neck, choking him. And then she was screaming her passion into his ear, mouthing every dirty word he had ever known, urging him on with a stream of obscenities with touched him off like a fireworks display.
He rode up and up with her, accompanied by the fierce thrusting of her hips. His own body hammered at her unmercifully. They soared together through the dazzling, explosive rapture. Up and up soaring through space. Until at last they both collapsed back upon the bed and lay together, still embracing, gasping for air.
Arthur closed his eyes and gave himself up to the wonder of her soft yielding body. She rubbed her lips upon his cheek, murmuring soft words, smearing his face with kisses, now and then darting her tongue against his eyes, into his ear.
Arthur heaved a sigh of pure satisfaction. He was proud of himself, for he had conquered her. For the first time in ages he had been the active male subduing a woman with his lust. He had melted her with the violence of his need, and she had given in to him willingly
eagerly. She had allowed herself to be ravished because she could not resist his maleness. He wanted to cry aloud, to shout to the skies. For she had made him a man again...