The Glass Secret (Chain of Secrets), page 25
“You look so very sad,” A man’s voice came out of the silence.
I let out a scream at the top of my lungs, quickly recognizing that Dr. Piccart had returned. He was a sneaky cat.
“Oh, Dr. Piccart you nearly gave me a heart attack.” I inhaled deeply, trying to hide my sudden scare.
“I am sorry dear, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“It’s alright. I’m just glad it was you.” My voice was breathless.
“Just little old me. I couldn’t sleep.” He shrugged.
“Oh dear. I hope I didn’t disturb you.” I sighed.
“Not at all. I have a fire stoking in my living room. Would you like to come down and sober up with some coffee? I just set up my projector, and I am about to screen a vintage film that I restored. It might be one of the most complete versions of the original Lost Horizon, and I am about to find out if it contains the missing scenes.”
“Oh, that is one of my favorite old movies and so nice of you to ask, but can I take a rain check on that. I’m already halfway up the stairs, and I’m feeling a little sick. If I have any problems falling asleep, I’ll write a bit, and the way I am feeling tonight will throw that much more pathos into creating a plot for the novel. I need something good,” I whispered, barely audible. “But, thanks again for the invite.”
“You’re welcome, Brielle. I hope you find some personal happiness here in Paris. Your work is very good, which is why we invited you to the program. I can tell you that you were chosen because you are meant to be here, and to do something even more important than writing a mystery novel in Paris.”
“Aww, thank you for your confidence in me,” I humbly replied.
“Always,” he said. “Sorry I can’t climb the stairs and visit with you longer.” He patted his thighs. “The phlebitis in my legs keeps me on the ground floor of everything as you know…Bonne nuit.”
I said good night as he went into his apartment. I faintly heard the whirl of a film projector followed by the opening music credits of a movie. He’d probably fall asleep before the ending.
-40-
Coveting thy neighbors
I went a bit higher on the stairs, a few more steps up, so Dr. Piccart couldn’t see me if he came out into the hallway again. I drew my knees up against my breasts and held them in tightly with my arms, feeling vulnerable if I wasn’t all tucked up inside of myself. I felt the pressing of tears behind my eyes.
I lowered my head and rested my chin there, focusing on the fashionable tattered rip in the kneecap of my jeans. It reminded me of how Spencer used to slide his fingertips into the torn holes of my jeans to caress my skin. It’s funny how the mind works—it’s the sweet little things someone does that we never forget. Too bad we didn’t share the same dreams!
I closed my eyes and struggled to shake off his memory, to no avail, a cathartic cry escaped my lips. Nine months of pent up emotions touched every corner of me.
Tears stung against my wind burnt cheeks. He was gone, and so was our love—the love that I had been counting on to last forever. But it had not. I wanted to hate him, to love him, and to be with him. I still missed him, so much, but it was time to let go! Que Sera, Sera!
“Nothing is forever,” I purged out loud. I didn’t care who heard my cries as my voice echoed against the old walls of the brownstone.
Suddenly, I saw a light burning brightly through my closed eyelids. I blinked a few times to clear the blurriness caused by my tears and lifted my head. The light was coming from my neighbor’s window from the building across the way.
The large window in the atrium of my building had morphed into a live-action theater, and my neighbors were the stars of their own little private sex show. I wiped away the salty teardrops that clung to my lips.
“Oh, my…my…” I whispered all breathy.
I was surprised at how vividly I could see the smallest details inside their flat, from the artwork and the tacky tassels on accent pillows, to a cigarette burning away in a red hand-blown glass ashtray. At first, I only saw the man removing his jacket, then, tossing it on the back of a chair.
He picked up a remote control off the table and pointed it toward the stereo system. I could see all the lights fire up on the system. He was tall and rather slender with wavy coal-black hair, much leaner than I preferred, although I could see he packed some nice muscles beneath the white t-shirt he wore. His hips were narrow, which caused an illusion of him having very broad shoulders.
A striking female appeared behind him and encircled her arms around his waist. She gripped onto his torso tightly as her fingers reached down towards his groin. He whisked her around to the front of him, pulling her into his chest. She clasped her arms around his neck, dangling her body weight against his. She flipped her head backwards, an expression of laughter dancing across her face. Her bold ruby-red lipstick contrasted brightly against her pale ivory skin.
It was so retro, the way her light brown hair cascaded down around her shoulders into smooth, polished finger waves. She wore a hip-hugging black pencil skirt and stockings paired with high-heeled black Mary Jane pumps.
I could see mounds of cleavage protruding above her disheveled white button-up blouse. It was unlikely that she was a French girl with all those humps wiggling in different directions. Most French girls are much thinner in comparison to this dame.
The couple embraced each other passionately, kissing and stumbling into pieces of furniture as they made their way to the sofa; it was both comical and sensual. The man sat down and clutched her by her hourglass waist. He attempted to pull her into him.
She leaned back, pretending to resist his efforts, teasingly, I could tell. A flirtatious smile beamed across her face as she began to dance erotically, circling her hips from side to side.
I licked my lips, watching them, feeling shame boiling up inside of me, and yet, also, an impassioned yearning. I couldn’t have ripped my eyes away for anything.
It’s wrong, I know, to spy on others, but after all, aren't we always voyeurs when we go to the movies? I justified away the guilt by telling myself that I was only doing what a movie audience would do—looking through a lens, in this case, a window, at the private lives of strangers.
The dark-haired beauty balanced on one leg and raised the other, slightly bent at the knee and swayed it above his lap. The man ran his hands up her leg and under her skirt then slowly back down to her ankles and removed her high heel. He carefully set the shoe on the floor under the sofa. He repeated this with her other leg.
Next, she seductively positioned her foot in the center of his manhood, calling to attention his sex with her probing toes. He leaned back into the sofa pressing his pelvis toward her. She gracefully shimmied her skirt up to the fullest part of her hips, lifting one leg straight out and placed the ball of her foot on the frame of his shoulder for balance.
She then adjusted her garter and began removing her silk stocking. His eyes grazed over her body with admiration and paused directly between her thighs. After she unfastened and removed the other stocking, she danced, using the stockings like a feather boa. She then held each stocking in separate hands; twisting her wrists into circles, which made the stocking spiral.
The man grabbed the end of one of the stockings. Before the stocking slid through his fingers, he bathed his face into it, keeping his bedroom eyes locked on her as she continued to dance for him.
I gasped. Her dance was erotic, as was witnessing him captured in the web of her seduction.
When he leaned in to kiss her, she stretched back from him with the same flirtatious grin that I had seen earlier on her face. She seemed to love being in control of the dalliance. As he continued to enjoy his wine, she seductively slid her finger into his glass then inserted its entire length into her mouth. She licked and twisted her tongue around her finger, very erotically.
The man’s top teeth bit down over his bottom lip and he licked his lips. She continued to tease him, tracing her fingers down to his zipper, moving it up and down. And then she left the zipper down, unfurling his masculinity.
She leaned down into his groin. I almost fell off the stairs by this point, watching their live-sex show. If not for hanging onto the banister, as Dr. Piccart had cautioned me, I would have taken a tumble down the stairs, for sure.
When I caught my balance, my eyes swept up and back across the way into the fishbowl building. The man leaned into kiss her again, but instead she intersected his kiss by inserting several fingers deep into his mouth. He sucked on them gently, probing his tongue around and between them. She inserted her tongue to get in on the action. Her eyes challenged him.
This cat-and-mouse tango went on for a few more moments, I was beginning to wonder how much more teasing he would put up with. She was like the queen of the jungle in a garter belt and push-up bra. The lioness was tempting the king of the jungle to pounce on her—and if he didn’t—surely, she would strike first.
Heat coursed through my veins, provoking warm sensations below my waistline, coupled with strong urges to crave the touch of a man, to smell his scent and to hear sweet nothings dripping from his lips. I had become a voyeur, hidden in the shadows of the stairwell, spying on the intimate lovers.
A lascivious impulse grew inside me, unlike anything I had experienced before. In fact, it was that of lust, arousal, and the fear of getting caught just watching them that thrilled me to the core. I watched as their skin melted into each other like hot butter on toast. And I began to melt, too, in a sad way, not having an object of my desire to unleash my shameless attention. My eyes widened with further anticipation of watching the couple make love.
He swiftly tossed her onto the billowy sofa, immobilizing her beneath his strapping muscles. His fingers skated up her torso and slid her skirt down over her supple thighs.
She enthusiastically shimmied out of her panties and was ready to go! He hovered over her and sank himself between her thighs. Their bodies moved in rhythm, thrusting back and forth, as their hands flayed and caressed each other.
They were entangled in a sweet dance of easy familiarity. This had to be a reoccurrence between them; he knew exactly how to make her body shudder beneath his precise touch. His intentions were sensual, deliberate, an expert at fulfilling his lover’s sexual desires.
My eyes drank in every sorted detail as I enjoy the pleasure of spying on them. He paraded his lips over her flesh with kisses of salutation. Her fingernails gripped into his mortality, leaving behind traces of red marks down his arms. In one swift move, she wrestled out from beneath him and straddled him. Now, hovering over him she was back in control—his tongue tantalized her erect nipples, copulating over the complete shade of pink.
An intense rush of arousal spieled between my legs as I witnessed her climactic vibrations; her back arched into a half circle, within seconds her body collapsed into his. His head lolled back as his chest jolted upward, spooning into hers, stillness embraced them, and sweet satisfaction splayed on their faces.
-41-
Damn him!
I sat there in the dimly lit stairwell, feeling bereft and forsaken, once again. Was this it? I hoped for more, the show must go on! I wished that I were she, so eager to please him and to have a man to please her. I wrapped my arms around my own waist.
My mind staggered back in time, it had been nine months since I had been with the Spencer. I longed for someone to hold me again, the way this man held her. Someone who was trustworthy, kind and honorable; that was just the start of my needs, my list could go on and on.
A refreshing gentle wind swirled around me once more—it felt real, like fingers caressing the loose strands of my hair—pulling my attention away from the couple, but only for a brief moment. I shuddered at the thought that I was now a legitimate peeping Tom, how pathetic, or more precisely, a peeping Tomtress!
Is this the beginning of an addiction, I wondered? Would it be my nightly, salacious, big screen television across the street? I dreaded not. It was both lurid and sadly pathetic in a way. Surely, they knew that people could see them in the giant fishbowl. Maybe, it was the stimulus of their bliss because the likelihood that someone was watching was greater than not. Everyone watched everyone in Paris.
From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of what appeared to be someone’s shadow against the wall opposite the stairwell. I hushed my breath and quietly listened to hear if someone was approaching. There was definitely a creaking sound. However, it was clearly coming from somewhere above me, so I knew it couldn’t be Dr. Piccart, thank God, I thought...but then again, who else could it have been?
I quickly scooted over and pressed my back up against the wall of the stairwell, hiding myself. I didn’t flinch a muscle at all, but my eyes scanned the area surrounding me.
When I looked upward toward the ceiling, I could see the old chandelier swaying back and forth in the stairwell’s tall ceiling above me, causing it to creak. The lights from the chandelier skipped through the open rafters, making the shadows dance across the coffers in the ceiling. I figured, so as it was, this also caused the shadow on the wall.
I released my breath in a huge sigh of relief. I certainly didn’t want to get caught fish-eyeing my neighbors having sex—or did I?
Nonetheless, that moment of fear wasn’t greater than my curiosity. I refused to let a little breeze kill the only passion I had felt, even if only vicariously through my neighbor’s sex life. I refocused my attention back on the couple. I hoped I hadn’t missed anything significant, there was no rewind button here. It appeared they were now at the top of act two.
Beads of sweat glistened on the man’s forearms. When he stood—so did his manly equipment. I was envious of what she was about to get from him, again.
In the throes of their passion, his muscles bulging, without any effort, he hoisted the voluptuous woman up against the wall. He nibbled fiercely on her womanly curves as if he was starving for her flesh. This visual stimulated my nipples to perk up beneath the flimsy fabric of my t-shirt.
The feline woman lifted one leg, hinging it in his flexed forearm as she wrapped her other leg around his narrow waist. I could see his hand reaching down supporting her blanched derriere. She nestled her face into his broad shoulders, kissing and biting him all at once.
His tongue slowly grazed a path along her neck then met precisely with her purring lips. Before kissing her, he paused to adoringly push back her wild strands of hair coiling around her face.
I could clearly see she was more beautiful than what I had previously thought, her once-pale skin now flushed like the color of a deep pink rose petal. His hands held her face while they kissed deeply. I loved being held firmly when kissed.
In one swift movement, he flipped her around—her large breasts melted into the wall. His hands cupped her waist, pulling her closer into him and teased her from behind with the tip of his oversized package.
My heart skipped a beat as he sank himself into her, anxiously yet lovingly. She was his submissive; behind her he controlled the thrust and the momentum. My flesh coveted thy neighbors as they offered me an unhindered view of their intimate treasures.
Damn them! Again, a powerful breeze ruffled around me, sending a jet stream through the torn holes in my jeans. The breeze felt exhilarating, one with me, alive and joined me as I intensely watched the love thirsty couple change positions yet again. These two apparently did not need a bed. They were sexual acrobats and seemingly tireless.
My body longed to be touched and to touch another. I resisted the urge to caress myself, even secluded in this private corner of the stairwell, in a building, as far as I knew, only an old man and I had occupied. However, I withstood my temptations.
Even though I appeared to be a voyeur, I wasn’t about to satisfy myself—even with temptation steeping out of control. That would definitely come later. Besides, I believed the definition for a voyeur was to look but not touch, even if it was yourself.
For now, I inhaled and exhaled slowly, mirroring my breathing to theirs, as he took her to exalted heights. I could see her mouth open, crying out her passion, and her face in a beautiful grimace. I wished that instead of her, I were with this man of ungodly stamina!
“Mmmmm,” I sighed wistfully, taking in deep breaths of fresh air. I wondered for a second, why I had not surrendered to Spencer; instinctually though, I knew I’d made the right decision in the end.
-42-
Caught off guard
A dark shadow crossed the wall in front of me, again, as if a person had passed behind me on the stairwell. The hairs on my arms elevated, sending goose bumps along the entire length of my body. I knew I was definitely not alone now. Hard pressed against the wall, a small cry of alarm escaped me. I tried to recoil into the cast of the shadow that was created by the overhanging balcony. Inadvertently, my arms crossed in front of my breasts.
This time I felt a strong presence hovering. There was someone in the darkness on the landing above me. I was certain of this.
Had I previously mistaken the sound of the creaky chandelier for someone who had been there all along, watching me as I watched my neighbors and…before I could finish my thought, I heard him loud and clear.
“Do you enjoy watching other people having sex?” He spoke teasingly, precisely, with a perfect blend of intonation frequency, timbre and softness.
His voice was smoldering, deep and alluring. The tone surrounded me, dripping with testosterone and echoed like the bong of a bell into the dome of the ceiling.
A huge dose of adrenaline pierced through my body. I was rooted to the spot and couldn’t bring myself to move. My mind was inundated with several fleeting thoughts.
Oh my God! What do I do, scream, run?
Then a twisted thought entered my devious little mind...the thought of him being there all along, watching, and waiting for the perfect moment to reveal himself. This sort of thrilled me. I couldn’t get over how mesmerizing and damn arousing his deep voice sounded.
