Sexual objectification II

This is a continuation of the previous post which has nothing to do with running. My mentor has instructed me to use this platform to tell about my experiences as I’m prepared for a future role.

In the last post I wrote about undressing in front of a window in my living room so that I could be seen by a young, attractive woman who lived in the next-door apartment. I didn’t think it wise to do this, but mentor easily compels me to do things against my will.

This undressing quickly changed from just changing my clothes to putting on a show. Sometimes I was completely without clothes, other times I wore loose pants that I allowed to slowly slip down. I often did trivial tasks like watering houseplants or dusting and then interrupt my work by swinging back and forth, presenting myself with a side view, or just standing to allow my neighbor to witness the hands-off, full stage of growth from relaxed to not relaxed.

Sometimes while completely undressed, I pressed my body against the window. Often I’d stand close to the window and move my hips back and forth, mimicking a pendulum-like musical timing device called a metronome, pictured below.

Metronome photo by Vincent Quach.

Photo by Vincent Quach.

Along the way, my neighbor gave me signs that she liked my daily show even though I couldn’t see her because of the sheer curtain covering her window. My reluctance when I started doing this turned into enjoyment. It was exciting, and at times it hit me how wonderful it felt to be parading around naked and doing all these things as a woman willingly watched. The term “sexual object” is usually applied to women and can have a negative connotation. For a man, however, it’s very gratifying. A couple times, after especially erotic “performances”, my pretty neighbor came outside and waved good-by to me as I left for work. It melted my heart when she did this.

However, our occasional, passing conversations were of the typical, neighborly type. There was quite an age difference between us, and in addition, she was tight with her boyfriend. This put a damper on any talk of what was going on, or of anything happening outside of my morning activities.

As the weeks passed, I became less enthused to continue. It seemed to me it was becoming old hat for my neighbor. However, mentor pushed me to continue and take increasing risks. I started disrobing after coming home from evenings out which I was in no mood to do. It was also very risky because the boyfriend was there. A bunch of times I was forced to do these evening performances, and I’m so lucky I was not seen by anyone but her, as far as I know.

Also, whenever I stood close to the window, I was visible to several residences. I always monitored the outside environment when I did this, but someone could be looking out their window, and it might be hard for me to notice. One morning this happened, and I noticed too late.

In a residence across the street, two women were watching and they retreated when they saw me look their way. I immediately stopped my performance and made sure I couldn’t be seen by them. However, a short time later, a vehicle pulled up in front of my neighbor’s apartment.

The guy eyed my place before getting out and knocking on my neighbor’s door. She stepped outside and they talked for a few minutes. She had an expression of deep concern the entire time. She did not smile or appear at ease. Was this guy a plainclothes policeman?

He did most of the talking, and it appeared she was giving short responses to whatever he was asking. In the end, he returned to his vehicle and drove away.

I’ve written before that it’s my nature to be cautious. After something like this, of course I’d cool it. But the next morning I was back at it, directed to do so by my unrelenting mentor.

Eventually the boyfriend got an out-of-state job and the woman next door moved away. With all the risk-taking I did, I’m so thankful there weren’t any big negative incidents. Involving my neighbor also put her at risk, but I’m so grateful for her divine attention and her care in keeping our arrangement under wraps.

I thought my days as a performer were over. However, the next tenant in the empty unit next to me was another tall, young, single woman. My next post will describe what happened as my performing career unexpectedly continued.

For readers who wonder why I am doing these things, and who “mentor” is, it can be found in a previous, much shorter post, My Daily Stress.

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