Sexual objectification III

Running topics are once again taking a back seat as my mentor directs me to write about my experiences as I’m prepared for a future role. This is a continuation of the previous post in which I turned getting dressed in the morning into a show for the woman who lived in the apartment next door.

The woman who took over the lease next door to me was every bit as pretty as the woman who’d just moved out. Tall and thin with black hair, she was in her early 20’s. I found her very attractive.

She was a co-worker at an insurance agency with the former tenant, and she had visited her once before when I did my thing in front of the window. However, when she moved in, she put up a wall screen that covered most of her window. My interpretation was that she wasn’t interested in my morning shows.

In addition, another woman in her mid-30’s often came over first thing in the morning. I later learned she was yet another co-worker at the insurance agency. So attractive was she also. I really liked having such beautiful women right next door. However, I thought she was there to provide support to her friend and co-worker, and possibly to dissuade me from doing my thing.

It was surprising that mentor did not push me to disrobe while the two were there. I noticed small signs that I was misinterpreting, but being the cautious person I am, I didn’t act on it.

One afternoon I was at my window when my attractive neighbor came outside and went to her car to get something. It appeared this was a ruse because the way she carried herself, and her self-awareness told me she’d noticed me inside my place and knew I was now watching her. It was time.

Somehow, I immediately got up over this, and loosening my belt, I returned to window view fully dressed save a flag pole rising well above my pant’s waistline.

In no time she came out the door again and did the same as before. I interpreted this (correctly), as an invitation to resume my morning shows.

As before, I so enjoyed disrobing and presenting myself in various ways while the flag pole was up. Another idea mentor provided was to use a hole that I had cut in my pant’s pocket and use it as an exit point.

Though I couldn’t see through my neighbor’s sheer curtain, at times while performing close to my window, as I kept myself shielded from being seen by anyone else, she often strolled slowly past another, uncovered window. Oh, I liked it when she did that.

Like the previous tenant, she had a guy, and he worked out of town often. Though I chatted with my pretty neighbor on occasion, like before, it was typical neighbor-chat, and there was never any discussion of, or interaction beyond our morning ritual.

Also like before, as time went on, mentor pushed me to take more risks. There was an occasional evening try, but when her guy came home as I was about to disrobe one evening, mentor allowed me to abandon that idea.

One morning, mentor suggested my neighbor was usually up well before my regular start time, and I should do something special. I did not want to do this, but as always, I was compelled.

I opened the curtains in my dining area which faced my neighbor’s kitchen, and with the sun still not up, I was well-illuminated as I prepared to climb atop the dining table and stand on my knees without a stitch of clothing, flag-pole up, to dust the light fixture.

As I was atop the table, taking my time to get every speck of dust, my neighbor’s grandfather walked into view in the breezeway between our places. His eyes wavered slightly as if he’d seen me peripherally and wanted to look directly. I don’t know how much he saw, but I immediately climbed down and went into damage control.

My neighbor’s grandfather came over occasionally to check on her, and I’d talked to him on a previous visit. He was likeable, and I’d told him I’d watch out for her. As you can see, I did more than watch out for her.

The grandfather left, and later that morning as I took out the garbage, I unexpectedly ran into my neighbor. I figured she’d been watching and saw the whole thing, so I wanted to apologize for trying such a stunt. However, when I said I was sorry for this morning’s near disaster, she looked perplexed. Turns out she saw nothing. She had slept late.

I quickly changed my tune, making up a story about a friend who had stopped by and then drove recklessly as he left, jumping the curb in front of her apartment.

As the next few days passed, no one knocked on my door or confronted me about what happened. Apparently I dodged a bullet again.

This wasn’t the only incident in which I was caught in the window. In each case, instead of being allowed to do the sensible thing and refraining, mentor again compelled me to continue the show the next morning as if nothing had happened. I know this caused some grief to my neighbor.

After a few months, her lease was up and she moved out. An elderly couple from Kentucky moved into the apartment, and they often brought over a slice of freshly baked homemade pie that was very delicious.

Enough time has passed that it’s apparent I escaped mostly unscathed, as far as know, and up to now. I feel an attachment to the women next door because I saw traits in them that I admired, and despite my behavior, I think they’d still say I’m an okay guy. Though we were separated by two windows and several feet of concrete, there was an intimacy in our morning ritual, and I wished there was a way I could have talked to them more often.

If you missed an earlier, much shorter post, My Daily Stress, I explain why I must do these things and who mentor is.


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