He crept quietly through the garden and crouched down in his usual position, where he could see clearly into the downstairs room. There was never any guarantee that she would be there: or even what he would see if she was; but like all compulsions, the urge was too strong for him, and he had to see.
It had started about three weeks earlier: he had been on his way home and he'd really needed to pee, so he had ducked into the garden where he would be sheltered from the road by the high hedge. Having emptied his bladder, he looked around the place. It was a big house: five or six bedrooms, maybe. He looked towards the front door and he could see the panel with bell-push buttons: about eight, in two columns; separate apartments, he guessed. There were lights in several of the upstairs rooms, but only one downstairs. He was about to leave when he saw the silhouette of someone in the room: and there was no mistaking the fact that it was female!
Like most adolescent boys, his hormones ruled his head. Maybe she was undressing; or even naked, he thought; so he had crept closer to see what he could see! The garden was shielded from the road by the hedge, and the room wasn't overlooked, so she obviously felt comfortable leaving the blinds at her window pulled up. If the light had been brighter he would have seen a lot more ... but he saw enough to want to come back again, and again, and then again. She mainly walked around in her underwear: but once she had taken off her bra, and for a full three seconds he had seen her bare boobs! And like an addictive drug, the more he got, the more he wanted!
He wondered whether he could somehow get some pictures. He had a camera in his phone, but it was too dark to take any: besides, with an ordinary camera she would she the flash going off. He saw the light increase as another door was opened, and she came into the room ... she must have in the bathroom, because she was wearing a robe and she had a towel wrapped around her head. Was she going to take her robe off tonight! She must be naked underneath! But to his disappointment, she turned on the TV and sat down to watch it.
He wondered what to do now: she could be sitting there for hours; but if he went he would miss her taking off the robe! So he crouched down amongst the shrubbery and waited.
After forty minutes he'd had enough ... he would try again tomorrow! But his legs had gone to sleep, and he found he couldn't move. He had to do something, so he tried to roll over onto his side; but his movements were clumsy, and he made more noise than he intended. He just lay on the ground, as quiet as he could, trying to get some feeling back into his legs. Then he heard a window opening.
"I know you're there!" the female voice said, "You might as well show yourself!" He tried to bluff it out.
"Come on ... I haven't got all night!" He stood up, still vigorously rubbing his legs.
"I don't have to ask what you're doing: it isn't the first time!"
Should he run ... she'd never catch him! But he couldn't ... his legs still weren't working properly.
"You'd better come in!" she said, " ... Number 3."
He still wanted to run, but the same thing that kept drawing him back, now compelled him to walk to the front door: it was open; he went into the entrance hall and closed the door behind him. Number 3 was the first door on the right ... that front door was open, too. Again he stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind him.
"What's your name, Kid?"
" ... Frankie..."
" ... Well, Frankie, do you know that what you've been doing is very wrong!" He just shrugged his shoulders.
"Then I'll tell you why it's wrong, Frankie: it's not because you might see people undressed; it's because you can make people afraid ... and that's much worse! Have you ever been really afraid, Frankie?"
" ... Then I hope you never are! Because the sort of fear I'm talking about can stay with you for a long, long time; and it affects everything that you do." This seemed to genuinely affect him.
" ... I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to!"
"That's good! It doesn't excuse what you did ... but it's a start! How old are you, Frankie?"
"16." She looked at him, without speaking. " ... Nearly..."
"So you're 15. Are you a virgin, Frankie?"
" ... No ... of course not!" he blustered. She just looked again. " ... Yes..."
" ... Well, not for much longer!"
Frankie's heart started pounding in his chest. Did she mean what he thought she did! She looked at him and smiled.
"Don't look so scared, Kid ... you'll enjoy it! Ready?" She took him by the hand and led him into her bedroom. He looked all around him: without really knowing what he expected to see.