It was one of those mornings where you wake up with the decision in hand to change your life. You wake up, and there it is, as tangible and real as the bits of crust in the corners of your eyes. There was the usual great battle with all the bedding, but I managed to fight my way free, fleeing the quicksand oblong of the mattress to stumble into the kitchen to get the coffee going. Then I went into the bathroom, and for the time it took my bladder to empty I was transformed into a horse. By some miracle I didn't overflow the bowl. From there I went to my favorite window and opened it before sitting down in the chair. I lit a cigarette and became a machine. I sucked in smoke, the blew it out through the screen, over and over, until the cigarette was finished. This was my clock. By the time I stumbled back into the kitchen, the coffee would be done brewing. I sat down at the table and drank several cups of my wake-up medicine. Then I fully contemplated changing my life.

Changing my life was of course beyond my capabilities. So I focused on my surroundings. With the headiness born of a Saturday morning, I decided to rearrange all the furniture in my apartment. I was tired of it being so cramped and dark and gloomy in here. I'd considered a major shift many times before but I was always thwarted before I began by one obstacle. Not that I was too lazy to undertake such a chore--I could overcome that inclination just thinking about the rewards. Not that it'd be such an arduous process--it would be a complicated procedure, moving just the one right piece at a time to avoid a gigantic logjam. The problem was that no matter how I considered the space, it always looked to be a game of musical chairs--when the music ended there would be one piece of furniture with nowhere to sit down. The trouble was that I wanted to uncover the front windows, which were blocked by a huge oak secretary. I could see no way to find it wall space without, say, exiling the couch to the middle of the room. Or rendering a closet useless. Or losing a heat vent.

The secretary was a gift from a great-aunt when she'd traded a big family house in the cold north for a small senior's condo in the sunny south. It was a beautiful monstrosity. The very thing only an old maiden great-aunt would wind up having, which wasn't a very reassuring thought now that it sat in my apartment. The story was that the family had brought it over on the boat when they'd first come to this country a million years ago. My story was that it in fact was the fucking boat.

It had a drop-leaf desk, and a rolltop desk. A million little cubbyholes. Sliding doors. The multiple desk section rested on a base containing four columns of four drawers each. Above, glass-doored mirror-backed shelving rose nearly to the ceiling. The wood was carved to incredible detail. Pilasters and flutings all over the place. Corinthian columns for god's sake! Flying buttresses! As if it didn't look enough like a cathedral, perched all around the top were little gargoyles pushing out of the very wood. They weren't separately affixed decorations. Luckily the whole thing rested on ceramic casters. Luckier still, despite the cracks of age, the four wheels were not only whole but still functioning.

At the heart of the whole problem was that I had my bed in the livingroom. The bedroom down the hall past the bathroom I used as a study. Aside from the occasional hoopla of someone getting lucky, bedrooms tended to be the quietest corner of any apartment. I needed no noise to concentrate when I was working. But I could go to sleep, or stay asleep, through all but the greatest din. Such were the necessities of my life.

I gave grave consideration to my latest vision, then set to work. The bed was just a Hollywood frame. I leaned the mattress and boxsprings against the wall in the hall. The couch went where the bed had been, which left enough room on the adjoining wall for the bookcases from the dining nook. The secretary creaked over to the couch's former position. The table and set of four chairs from the dining room I grouped in front of the front windows. Man, that was going to be my new favorite window, I could just tell. The dresser and a couple of chairs and two minor endtables got shuffled around, winding up in better positions than before. Miraculously the bed fit snugly in the dining nook, with the critical room to spare for the crucial bedside table.

The view through the front windows would travel through the livingroom landing directly on my bed, but that didn't bother me. That's what the blinds were for if I chose to care. It was a little unnerving at first--the secretary had provided an excellent privacy barrier. But I well knew from my tenure that almost everyone kept their blinds closed all the time anyway. Those of us dwelling on the second story were safe from the scrutiny of anyone in the courtyard. Factor in screens and exterior glass that'd been washed by nothing but rain in dozens of years and what did it matter if I happened to walk into my livingroom in my underwear? What harm was there if someone across the way chanced to see my naked butt climbing into bed moments before lights out? I decided I'd continue leaving my blinds up, even in the lamplight of night. Otherwise I felt too claustrophobic.

The only hitch in my plans was that a few weeks before a new couple had moved in directly across the way. The previous tenants had never raised their blinds or even opened them, not even during the dull light of day. The schedules of the new neighbors seemed to be such that she was the first to stir in the morning, when all the blinds in their livingroom would go up, and the first home from work, when the blinds wouldn't shift even though all the lights were on. The blinds would drop mid-evening, at the instigation of the guy it appeared.

In my apartment's new configuration, I'd wind up loitering over dinner, gazing absently out the window, and there she would be, sitting watching t.v. It was a little unnerving. I immediately thought of Hitchcock's Rear Window. I thought a time or two about fetching my toy binoculars, but stopped myself shouting to what effect? So I could watch her watching t.v. at x10? So that she could wind up noticing me spying on her in a stupid toy way?

The thing was, they were the nicest couple in the world. Friendly folk. We'd been waving and exchanging greetings since the first day they started moving in. The real thing was that I found her immensely attractive. She wasn't torn from the pages of Glamour, but neither was I stepping out of GQ. She was on the short side, with a cutely distinctive face, always ready with a winning smile. Her eyes were like those of a doe's. Breasts that were, well, breasts. Breasts that were nicely apparent but wouldn't necessarily need a brassiere to defy gravity. Mostly what I found alluring was how her waist flared into hips, a womanly ass. And unlike a great many women, she seemed to realize that her ass was just right exactly as it was, that were it any smaller the pleasure of it would be diminished, from an observer's point of view.

Observe it I did. Very very discreetly. So often swaying in a pair of tight white pants. I would look at the back of his head as they walked away and think lucky, lucky guy. I didn't have to wonder if he appreciated it or deserved it. He obviously did on both counts, to judge by her small attentions. Lucky, lucky guy, I thought with total altruism. It really did make me happy to see two people so happy.

One Sunday I was sitting out on the front stoop with a cup of coffee enjoying the gorgeous day. The courtyard was a microcosm of paradise. The leaves on the three big trees twinkled in the sunshine and the light breeze, seeming to provide the support for the big canopy of luscious blue way overhead. The birds flitting around were singing songs that sang Be Happy, Be Happy. It took no effort for me to take their advice to heart. Their lyrics were already radiating from within me, not as a command but as an accomplished fact. It was a damn good day.

I saw their car pull up, and then the new couple were coming up the walk. As they approached the turn off to their door we called out our congenial if generic greetings. They are so great, I thought. I was surprised, and delighted, when they turned the wrong way and came up the walk towards me. We spouted pleasantries and introductions. They were Jake and Ellen, and I was Edwin. We were standing, or sitting, out in as perfect a day as there is, residents of a lovely apartment complex full of friendly folk. We joked about a cadre of nosy but nice old men we called the resident grannies. Ellen commented indirectly on my redecorating efforts, noting, "Your puss-puss certainly seems to be greatly enjoying her new view."

This was quite true. "Yea, tell me about it. She hangs out there all the time. And if she hears me down here, she does just this." My cat was doing her usual trick of yelling down at me.

"Sounds like your pussy wants some attention," Ellen grinned. "I know the feeling. Well I guess we'll leave you to it." Just as they were turning, she asked, "Have you ever seen my sweet little pussy in our window?" I almost blushed, but quickly recovered.

"No, can't say as I have."

She smiled and tossed her hair and turned.

The thing was--cats and windows--I should have known that they had one. "I didn't know you guys had a cat."

Jake gave me a goofy look before he turned away, "Oh, that's because we don't."

The implications were such that a blood vessel in my brain should have burst, causing me to keel over dead right there on the stoop, but I was too busy watching Ellen's wonderful ass swaying away. I was wondering as always about a certain incongruity--if panties were such sheer little things, how come you could always see them so clearly defined through a pair of pants? And in instances such as this, to judge by the lines I could see, why would one bother wearing any at all? Strictly for the benefit of a lucky someone who might help take them off? That was my only guess. Lucky someone!

I went back upstairs and started puttering around the apartment. Fed the cat, thought about lunch, decided to put off eating for a couple hours. Gathered up the previous day's newspaper, thought of going out for today's, decided I'd put that off until I was really desperate for some fun. A notion of brilliance was knocking at my back door, so I let it in. Aha! Move that tiny table from that end of the couch to this end! So many weeks after the initial efforts, and at last the transformation of my apartment was complete in total perfection.

I sat down on the sofa supremely satisfied with myself, and the cat hopped up supremely satisfied with my lap. We sat there communing in the silence. When the buzzer rang, we had a race to see who would be first to bump their head on the ceiling. I bounced back on the sofa, but the cat landed in the middle of the room, looking at me wildly. "It's not my fault!" I exclaimed. She tore off to the kitchen with her tail as wide as her head.

The apartment complex was immediately postwar, and the buzzers seemed to be navy surplus from decommissioned submarines. Dive! dive! I didn't understand their necessity. The buttons were located below the mailboxes directly downstairs inside the nonlocking front door. A few steps up the stairs would bring a gentle rap to my door. Then there was one. I got up and looked through the peephole, which of course would distort my own mother into the image of the scariest monster murderer.

I opened the door and there to my great surprise stood Jake.

"Well, hello Jake. What a surprise." I regained my composure, opening the door wide, "Come in, come in."

"Nice layout," he commented, "but wow, déjà vu."

We stood there and exchanged goofy guy grins.

Next he noticed the secretary. "My god, that is incredible. How gorgeous. Is that what was blocking your windows when we first moved in?"

"You got it!"

"Man, how did it get in here? They construct the building around it?"

"Industrial strength helicopter. The landlord doesn't like to advertise it, but the roofs here are hung on hinges. You have to see them to believe them. Up in the attic. Ten feet long, mounted with thigh-wide screws."

He chuckled. "Excellent Edwin. A shitter always appreciates a good shitting. Up the stairs, hmmm, glad it wasn't me."

"Hey, glad it wasn't me. I hired professionals, self-insured ones. Presented the owner with several notarized appraisals so he'd understand that if they broke it I'd break him."

"I can't even begin to guess. Thirty thousand?"

"When my great-aunt gave it to me she included an appraisal for about that, but it was dated twenty years ago and signed by the hick dealer in her small town. Who's to say? My understanding is there's not another one like it on the continent. I've been tracked down by strangers. I have several standing offers in the six-figures, updated each year. I call it my retirement fund."

"No doubt. God what happens in case of fire?"

"Well. My great-aunt has the wherewithal to maintain a policy in my name. And I reckon I'd sit down and have a long hard cry."

We stayed there standing around until finally I shook my head. "Oh, hey, get you something to drink? Something I can do for you?"

Jake looked at me, blinking then remembering. "Oh yes, as a matter of fact. I came over to see if you could perhaps do me a small favor. No pressure. I don't want to create an imposition or anything."

"Shoot."

"Well, I've got to run out for a few hours and do some errands, and I was wondering if you could go over to our place and keep Ellen company. It's kind of irrational and all, but what can I say? We've had some mystery calls lately that have gotten her sort of rattled. She won't come with me and she won't unplug the phone because her mom usually calls around this time for a long chat. It's too last minute for any of her friends to come over. So, I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd go over and hold the fort, screen the calls. So I can go out and do what I need to get done. I mean, don't put yourself out or anything."

"Sure," I shrugged.

"Really?" he brightened. "You don't mind?"

"No problem. You're staring at the same walls that were on my agenda for the day."

"Great! It may seem like little to you, but it means a lot to me. I owe you big time."

"Oh god no," I waved him off. "You can feed my cat and water the plants when I'm on vacation or something."

We walked out together. "I'll probably gone three hours tops," he winced, "two hours minimum."

"That's fine. Whatever."

"But it might just be like ten minutes for you. Her mom calls, then Ellen can unplug the phone. After that feel free to do as you please. Really!"

I gave him a playful push, "Go, Jake, go!"

He clapped me on the shoulder, "Thanks," then went off down the walk. "Oh, by the way, I should warn you. Her mom's kind of deaf, and she had some nodules removed from her vocal cords a few years back, so, you know, she can sound like a whacked-out crazy herself."

"Good warning," I laughed, waving him away.

I went in their building and straight up the stairs, bypassing the buzzer. A tense mood would send you through the roof. I knocked lightly on their door. I didn't wait for her to have to use the peephole. "Hey Ellen, it's me, Edwin."

The door flew open. Ellen's eyes were still those of a doe, but now the eyes of a doe about to be pulled down by a pack of wolves. She flung her herself into my arms, nearly in tears, "Oh thank god! Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!"

While I was certainly enjoying the show of appreciation I brought it gently to an end as quickly as possible. I was on a mission of mercy, not a mercenary mission. It felt great having her pressed so tightly up against me, and I would have let it linger, never being one to be above enjoying the odd vicarious thrill, but it felt so great that it wouldn't have been much longer before she started feeling exactly how great it was making me feel. I was instantly alert to the dangers of an erection. The hitch of my cock. The scenario wouldn't unfold into the erotic interlude of my fantasies. It would be straight out of Hitchcock. The shock of realization on her face. Alone in her apartment with the kind genial neighbor from across the way, who was in fact the phone-calling maniac! I mean, I wasn't, but there'd be the big butcher knife in my gut to prevent me from dispelling the mistake. The phone would ring. And it wouldn't be mom!

"Hey, nice layout!" I stole Jake's joke, "but wow, déjà vu."

She smiled very weakly. "Jake's a fairly shy guy. I gave him that to break the ice."

"Nice line," I nodded, feeling like a total dork.

I steered Ellen over to the couch and sat her down. "Okay, you can relax now, okay?" She pulled me down beside her. She insisted on keeping my hands in hers on top of her thigh.

"I'm sorry, I feel so stupid," her voice quavered.

"No no no," I consoled her, "I'm sorry this creep keeps calling."

"I shouldn't, you know, get so upset, but god, he's making a wreck out of me."

I nodded, "New number, unlisted, first thing in the morning?"

"Oh, exactly. But what really has me shaken is I think this is someone who knows me somehow. He knows my name, and it's not included in the listing. Well, among his many errands, Jake promised to pick up an answering machine, and one of those things that logs the numbers of incoming calls."

"Wise idea," I answered.

The phone rang. We both startled. Ellen shot it a look of pure terror, then jerked away, her eyes on me big pleading pools. I took my hands out of hers and stood up, "Hey, it's probably for me."

"Hello?" Big bunch of heavy breathing. I waited long enough to make sure it wasn't her mom, then continued calmly, "Go take your asthma medicine, asshole!" I hung up the receiver and shrugged.

Ellen was melting with relief. She stood up wringing her hands. "Can I, I mean, should I, that is, are you hungry? How about, I could you know, maybe, make us a little lunch? Soup, sandwiches, chips, anything you want?"

"Sure, that'd be great," I replied. I wasn't particularly hungry, but she definitely needed something to do with her hands. I followed her into the kitchen. I agreed with everything she showed me, figuring the more she had to make, the longer she'd stay occupied. I made the offer of assisting, but she would have none of it. I thought about returning to the livingroom, but that seemed a little rude. Not to mention dull. I could sit in there and stare at the walls. Or I could sit down at the little table, chatting and watching Ellen at work. The innocent little pleasures of watching her bending and stretching and reaching. That was reward enough for my troubles. I wasn't at all obvious in my attentions, though I'd see a half-smile on her face when she would do a sudden half-turn.

My reverie was interrupted by the phone ringing again. I stood up with an exaggerated sigh. It was the same panting shit. I slightly muffled the mouthpiece with my hand, then whispered loud enough for all three of us to hear, "Officer, have you got the trace going?" I hung up last.

I received a standing ovation, even if it was the applause of one. I returned to find the table laden with my victory feast. There was enough food for a small party. Quickly the truth shone through that neither of us had much of an appetite. I picked up my spoon and ate most of my bowl of soup because it tasted as good as it had smelled. Ellen used her spoon as a prop, stirring her soup until it had gone cold. She nibbled about half her sandwich, while I consumed less of mine. The meal was thoroughly awkward. We were mostly silent. The few attempts at conversation fizzled. It was like being on a first date, only far worse. It was like being on your very first first date. Every now and again Ellen would look up from her lap and toss me a brilliant smile.

I was so relieved, I caught the phone on the second ring. It was the jerk again, in a little more talkative mood. I listened more intently, then remembered Jake's caution, and sure enough. Striding back into the kitchen I announced, "Hey, it's your mom!"

Their phone had an ultra long cord. After gabbing a minute, Ellen took the phone back in the bedroom and closed the door. I sat at the table for about five minutes. I'd moved to the sofa by the time she came back out, but in the interim I'd wrapped up all the food and put it away in the fridge or appropriate cabinets, washed the dishes, and stopped myself just shy of getting out the mop. I heard the small plastic sound of the cord being unplugged from the jack. She looked for me first in the kitchen, then found me where I was. "My goodness, you are an all-round miracle."

"Well," I shrugged, "pig at home, prince in the world. It was really my mess anyway. I had you make it to keep you busy."

"How can I ever repay you?" Ellen had a whole repertoire of brilliant smiles.

"You already did. I can go home now and not have to make a lunch mess of my own." I stood up to go.

"No no no no no," she strode over quickly, put her palm on my chest and pushed me back down to the sofa. "No, no, no... hmmm, I know!" she brightened. "Wait right here."

She disappeared down the hall into the bedroom again. She was gone long enough I thought I should either sneak out or go find the vacuum cleaner. She returned empty handed, but I noticed immediately she'd changed her pants. The baggy blue jeans were gone, replaced by a tight pair of thin white cotton pants that I'd come to regard nearly as a best friend.

Ellen did a few slow turns, stopping with her back to me. "How's that?" she turned to ask over her shoulder.

That was excellent. I could see quite clearly that not only were her panties high cut bikinis, but they were pink, banded in red, and patterned with little roses. "I've noticed that you enjoy these pants a great deal." I gasped and she giggled. "You think a woman doesn't notice when a man stares at her ass everytime she walks by?" She started backing up towards me. "Why do you think I seem to be wearing these pants all the time? Ever occur to you that I went out and bought three pairs just like them? It's okay, Edwin, we're not out in the courtyard. You can touch me with more than your eyes if you like."

I was a moth, my hands fluttering to the bright light. I'd barely touched her when the pants slipped down off her hips. I hadn't even noticed her hands, busy undoing the front. Ellen shook her ass a few times and they slid down to her ankles. She stepped out of them, let me savor the view, then turned around. "I'm done talking to my mom, Edwin. The phone's unplugged." She lowered her voice to an unnatural level, "Feel free to do as you please. Really!"

Things were turning really weird really fast. But that didn't stop my hands from flying directly back to her flame, alighting on her hips. "Do you like my pretty flowers? I figured you might." She removed one of my hands and placed it between her legs, cupping me cupping her, rubbing my fingers against her fabric covered mons. "If you make me come in my panties, they're yours."

She was already quite damp. With very little pressure the thin strip of cloth slid up between the slipperiness of her swollen labia. She pressed my hand harder against her while thrusting her pelvis downward to increase the pressure even more. I elevated my middle finger a little from the rest of the pack, letting it slide right into the groove.

"That's it, baby, she cried with a wild expression, "use that fuck finger, uh huh, a little higher and you're going to win that prize!" The crotch of her panties were quickly nearly dripping so I shifted the action slightly, found her little button, and started rubbing it furiously. Her mouth opened slowly, wordlessly, all the way wide while her eyelids lowered at the same pace. Ellen drew in a long loud breath, then grew rigid for a second, all the air in her lungs escaping in an endless groan as her limbs buckled. She crumpled to her knees, between my knees, her arms catching on my legs all that kept her completely from the floor.

When Ellen recovered from her fall she gave me a sleepy, tousled, nearly drunken look. She slid her arms off my thighs and then down between them, forcing my legs further apart. Then she brought her hands back up, holding the hem of her shirt, which she lifted up over her head, leaving it to flutter to the floor. My guess that she wasn't wearing a brassiere was confirmed, but she left me little time to admire the full sway of her breasts, crawling up in my lap to plant wild kisses all over my face.

But then she scooted forward some more, pointedly offering her breasts to my mouth. "I've noticed you seem to like the looks of these as well. The famine of fantasy is over; now it's time for you to feast." And feast I did, nudging and nuzzling, kissing and licking, sucking and suckling first one breast, then the other, then the first, then the other. It was a back and forth motion I could have enjoyed for hours. The feel of them in my hands was wonderful as well, but my hands felt an urgency to slide around to her back, slipping slowly down to squeeze the widened posture of her ass, through the fabric then ducking under the elastic to grip the full glory of her flesh, grinding her down against me.

"Careful you don't get a big wet spot on the front of your pants," she giggled in my ear. Soon Ellen straightened up and leaned back, leering down at me, moving her hands to rub against mine through the thin skin of fabric. "Why don't you take these off, Edwin? You earned your prize. And who knows, you might find a prize inside the prize."

Ellen stood up before me. I leaned over from my sitting position and pulled the panties down until gravity sent them to her ankles. She stepped out of them daintily. The full waft of her arousal hit me like a narcotic. All I could do was sit there staring at her pubic area, the hedge of curly hair and the pinkish hints of her delights below.

She snapped me out of my daze by mentioning my name. "Edwin? You probably can't see your next prize very well from this angle. Let me improve on it." Ellen took the two steps to the end of the sofa, then climbed on, crouching on her knees, her forearms resting on the arm of sofa. The view was indeed much more graphic in its presentation. "Earth to Edwin," she again interrupted my trance, "I believe it's time for you to take off your pants."

As though under hypnosis I stood up and did just that, losing the shoes and socks along the way. "Shirt too," she smiled. With every stitch out of the way I stood there with my cock jutting out in all its glory. Watching me over her shoulder she gave a low whistle, "Oh... my... goodness! Why don't you just plant that right here," reaching a hand underneath her to point out the very spot. I glanced over at the naked glass of the windows. "Don't worry," she whispered, "yours is the only apartment that could see me at this angle. And you're already here to see me at this angle."

The sight of her was so mesmerizing, the full round globes of her ass, her cunt wet and split like a ripe fruit. I crawled up on the sofa behind her, holding myself to make the plunge. As I moved into position her hand reached back to grab me. "Here," she intoned, "let me give you the guided tour." She slid me inside her past the head of my cock, then her hand returned to her other gripping the armrest. "Edwin, we don't have too much time, but let's take it slow. I want you to go home convinced of one thing: that this afternoon you had absolutely the best fuck of your life."

I took her words to heart, taking almost a minute to fully bury myself in her sheath. With the third repetition I felt her stiffen, then let go with a throaty moan. I had to stop completely, biting my lip to blood. Ellen had the most amazing vaginal muscles I'd ever endured. Her pussy was doing its best to ensure that I flood it right then and there. When her orgasm subsided and she felt me still stiff inside her, she blessed me, "Good boy, Edwin, very good boy!" She pushed back against me. "My cunt has been so ready for this from the first day I laid eyes on you. You and your eyes, you bastard! Your eyes on my ass like fingers slipping down to rub my pussy. Your eyes on my tits making my nipples feel tweaked. Your eyes on my face exactly like the taste of your luscious lips."

I hardly had to do anything! Ellen kept coming like a woman possessed. And she was possessing me. I could barely move for fear of bringing on the crash of my own ending. She swiveled her ass like no woman I'd ever known, until I had to grab her hips to hold her steady. She gave a little laugh, then changed directions, bucking back and forth. I slammed into her hard and fast just to drive her to distraction for a few seconds. I'd never encountered sex so excruciating and agonizing, weird and wild in such inaction. I dove forward, nipping all over her shoulders. "God Ellen," I gasped, "you are fucking amazing!"

"The pot and the kettle," she hissed, "calling each other black, you amazing fuck you." She was ascending again into serious orbit, slamming her ass backwards, her pussy positively milking me. When she reached back and gave my balls a quick little squeeze I didn't even try to resist. I was grateful to being going along with her on the big trip.