It had been nearly a week since Diane had first moved in. Work kept her busy most of the day, and by the time she came home, it was late and she was usually too exhausted to cook. She was thankful for the Gates' house-warming casserole. As a single woman, it had lasted her almost the entire week. Now the empty dish sat in her sink waiting to be washed and returned. Maybe she'd visit her new neighbors on the weekend. In the meantime, she thought she'd just watch a little TV before bed.
But she never discovered anything that caught her attention, and after a while, she'd find herself clicking off the screen and venturing upstairs towards the attic. It hadn't taken long for Diane to figure out Thomas Gates' weekly schedule: In bed around 11:00 pm, lights out by 11:30 at the latest, and a session of jerking off in between. He never lasted too long, but Diane had become fascinated with young man. She could sort of see why her father spent so much time hiding in his deer blind – the anticipation of waiting for the unsuspecting quarry to wander into view and the thrill when it actually happened.
For the first few nights, she'd watched eagerly as Thomas scanned the windows of her house below, searching for her. She'd been giddy with the knowledge that he never suspected her counter-surveillance from the darkness of her attic. But soon his curiosity about her began to wane. After the third day he barely cast a cursory glance towards her house before settling into bed with his laptop beside him. Of course, Diane knew that the split second of his older neighbor's nudity wasn't likely to sustain a teen boy's fantasies. And she knew that she should simply let it go at that. She'd already pushed things too far. But just the thought that Thomas was already forgetting about her made her sad. Had Elliot, The Shit, forgotten her as quickly too? That made her even sadder.
Thursday night after Thomas had wiped the last of the cum from his beautiful cock with an old pair of shorts and turned out the light, Diane remained watching, her fingers slipping and circling over her engorged clit as fantasies of how she might regain his attention wafted through her mind. After she came down from her orgasm, she lay in bed awaiting sleep. But sleep wouldn't come; only thoughts of the teen boy next door. She blamed it on the wine. When she awoke the next morning, she found herself picking out her sexiest lingerie.
They were a sheer, deep burgundy lace set that emphasized her best curves, and drew the eyes to her greatest assets. She'd bought them during a shopping therapy binge after The Shit had left her, but the only time she'd actually had reason to wear them was on the job interview at Clinton State. The secret sexiness gave her a boost of confidence. It was a shame, however, that they'd remained a secret all this time with no one to share them with.
Even as she tucked her breasts into place, she was telling herself that she wasn't really serious about showing off for the boy next door. It was simply a private fantasy that she wasn't going to allow to get too far. Nevertheless, she took more time than usual to admire her figure in the mirror, making sure everything looked perfect. And even though she refused to admit it, the thought that Thomas might see her later that night was already turning her on.
The day was lost in a haze of indecision between what she knew was right and what she wanted. Over and over, Diane attempted to assure herself that she wasn't actually going to try and seduce the boy – even though he'd already seen her naked (that was an accident) and even though she'd been watching him all week (in secret. She'd done nothing to actively encourage him to put on his nocturnal spectacle), and even though this morning she'd put on her best underwear while entertaining the thought (just a harmless fantasy), the thought of actually going through with it was crossing a line that Diane didn't think she could come back from. She was simultaneously thrilled and terrified.
Nevertheless, the image of Thomas kept playing in her mind. She thought of him naked in the window, gripping that fantastic cock of his, slowly stroking it, searching for her. I'm right here, she'd think to herself with wayward glee. You can't see me, but boy, I see you! And she remembered his eyes the first time they'd met. How they'd hungrily devoured her naked body even through his shock and embarrassment. She'd seen that familiar masculine desire cross his face, and she wanted to see it again.
As Diane drove home, she could feel the nerves surge, her heart beating faster in her chest. "Stop it!" she said aloud to herself, stopped at a red light. "Nothing's going to happen!" But even the sound of her own voice wasn't enough to convince her. "Goddammit!" she shouted banging the steering wheel hard enough to hurt her hand. To soothe the ache, she stuck it between her thighs, which caused her to realize how turned on she already was just thinking about tonight. She let her fingers glide across the fabric of her scrubs that covered her sensitive spot, closed her eyes and inhaled sharply.
An impatient car horn behind her brought Diane back to reality. She gripped the wheel with both hands and stomped hard on the gas, hurtling away from the intersection. A speed sign on the side of the road read 30 MPH. She glanced at the speedometer, already cresting 50 and quickly heading for 60. Jesus, get a hold of yourself, woman! Diane admonished. She slowed the car to a reasonable speed before some cop in hiding had the opportunity to pull her over. When she pulled into her driveway ten minutes later, she let go a long sigh of relief, though she knew that the night was only beginning.