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I’ve always known that I am a voyeur. Not one of those creepy types that hides behind bushes and peer into windows. No, more of an opportunist. Given a respectable situation, one that won’t label me as a pervert or get me arrested, I like to watch. A recent situation gave rise to an opportunity. I live in a small condo garden apartment, three stories, with two apartments on each floor – on the right and left side of the stairs. My neighbor Diana and I are on the top floor. Diana is an attractive young woman with whom I’ve been friendly. We exchange pleasantries when we encounter each other. She was at my apartment early on after she moved in, as I cooked a meal for her. But nothing progressed as it wasn’t clear we had Demetevler Escort much in common. Anyway, she had a boyfriend.One Monday morning, after her morning jog, which she did every day, Diana knocked on my door. With sweat on her face and on her running clothes and towels in her hand, she informed me that she just realized that her hot water heater had died. And she had meetings that morning. Could she shower at my apartment? I said, of course, so long as she didn’t mind if I shaved and brushed my teeth while she was using the shower; I had to get to work soon too. She gave me a quizzical look, like, are you serious? I anticipated her thoughts by saying, Otele Gelen Escort “Don’t worry, the shower has an opaque shower door; I won’t be able to see you.” She later told me she never heard anything so outrageous and agreed only because she was stuck. And a little curious.Diana went into the bathroom and I waited until I heard the water running. I went in. I said the shower door was opaque. Sort of. It’s not clear glass, but it’s not a barrier either. In the mirror above the sink as I shaved, I could see the outline of her body as she showered — the shape of her breasts, of her hips, her behind and legs. I watched her turn and bend, washing her Balgat Escort top, her middle, all of her. When the water stopped, she pulled two towels into the shower stall and dried herself. I watched every movement. (It takes me a long time to shave.) She came out with one towel wrapped tightly around her body, and a second towel wrapped around her wet hair. She looked at me warily, mumbled a ‘thanks’, and crossed the hall to dress at her apartment. She knocked at my door the next morning. It was going to take several days before the new water heater could be installed and I guess she decided yesterday hadn’t been horrible. It wasn’t the shower scene from Psycho and she still needed to wash after her run. When the water in the shower began, I entered to shave. I saw in the mirror that she turned in the shower to look at me. No words were spoken. We both knew it wasn’t credible that I “needed” to shave every day at exactly the same time she took a shower. There was at that instant a psychic understanding, an agreement. She knew I was a watcher. She was the watched.