The Balcony

[AndreaSubbie]

It was the end of another full day at College.

Andrea kicked the door shut behind her and padded into the main room, looking through the big balcony windows across the canal to the beautiful sky above the dark office block opposite.

She’d left her lights off to get a clear view, but now she switched them on effectively blanking the view and went through to her kitchen to pour a glass of wine. Red, tonight. She kicked off her shoes and returned to the main room, flicking on the TV and drinking. News. All miserable.

She muted the set the walked behind her sofa, leaving the wine on a table and unsnapping her jeans, tugging them down her legs.

That felt better.

Andrea mused about how lucky she was that her Daddy paid for this place. Not many student had their own apartment, at least not without letting rooms to other students. But hey, what’s money for? As her Dad liked to say. “Enjoy it, make the most of your time! It won’t go on forever!” she could almost hear his voice, and it made her smile.

Turning to admire her reflection in the big windows, she slipped out of the yellow t shirt, turning a little left and right, thinking she looked quite nice in these undies.

Not many students had silk satin bra and brief sets, and she cupped her modest boobs, weighing them in her hands, liking how they moved. Her slim frame and medium height set off the underwear nicely.

Picking up the wine again she drained it, and imagined the office block over the way was all lit up, workers scurrying and concentrating at their desks, too busy to look up across the canal at the brunette in her window.

Mm, nice thought. Would she or wouldn’t she? Andrea pondered, and in her fantasy yes she would. So hands behind her back she unhooked her bra, letting the imaginary workers see her bare boobs if only they looked out their windows. But they don’t, so down come her briefs, the neat patch of dark trimmed bush contrasting with her pale skin.

Grinning to her naked reflection she picked up the empty glass and went back to the kitchen for a refill.

 

[patr1ck]

It was the other security guard, Reg, who'd told him about the magic spot. Four floors up in the office block they guarded, the HQ for Azura plc, whoever they were.

They represented three nights and one weekend shift a week at minimum wage for Patrick, but the work was undemanding and he had plenty of time to himself. Every couple of hours he had to patrol the building and phone in to his bosses. The rest of the time he could read, write, think...

...or go to the Magic Spot. 'There's girls over there,' Reg had said. 'Women. Half the flats are empty, owned by some prat in Dubai. But the others are students. Office workers. Y'know.'

Patrick had been naive. He didn't know. He'd been living in the suburbs for years, unhappily married, till a year ago, when everything fell apart and here he was. 'What?'

'They walk around in their undies. Victoria's Secret, y'know. Or less.'

Patrick had avoided the spot for his first couple of nights. But now, on the third, he was there, in the Magic Spot. Fourth floor, office 403. Above the towers of the pedestrian bridge over the canal, you could see right in to the flats across the narrow stretch of water.

He'd only been standing there five minutes when - he couldn't believe his luck - one floor down, there was one. Taking off her jeans.

It was wrong, of course.

He kept watching, of course. Bloody hell. She took off her t-shirt. It was like she was deliberately displaying herself. Holding up her boobs.

She turned away. He realised he'd been holding his breath. Perhaps it was time for his next patrol.

Wait a minute. Now she was bare to the waist. Admiring herself in the window, that's what she must be doing. Slipping off her panties.

Nude.

It was a long long time since Patrick had seen a woman nude.

And then she was gone.

Magic. He waited a minute but no, she was gone.

Magic. It was like a gift to him. He received it with - with grace and gratitude. Yes he did.

But it was time for another patrol.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

Enjoying being naked, Andrea pottered about her kitchen, getting more wine, fixing a light dinner of cooked chicken from the fridge with a nice mixed leaf salad, some red onion, balsamic vinegar.

Mm that looked nice. And of course, no cooking so no problems staying naked, though she did put an apron over her front, the loop a little rough on her neck and shoulders, the bow loose behind her back.

She took her time and nibbled on things as she went, but once ready Andrea took her plate and third glass of wine back into the sitting room, placing them on the coffee table facing the TV, her back to the big windows.

That done, she turned toward the kitchen undoing the apron, and hanging it behind the door returned to kneel at the low table, flicking through channels until she found a nice film.

 

[patr1ck]

Less than an hour later he returned to Room 403. She was there, but with her back to the window. Her bare back.

He stood there, for several minutes, just looking. She ate. She didn't move otherwise.

Next time he could bring binoculars.

What? What kind of pervert was he turning into?

~​

He was reading a book called Thinking fast and slow but it was hard to concentrate. And then, the ideas were all about him weren't they? The fast primitive thinker in him wanted to watch this naked young woman and fantasise about her.

The slow thinker sat in judgement on him.

All the same, as he left the following morning, he went across the canal lock and looked at the bells for the second floor. None of them had names on. There was a little letter box for each flat.

He could wait here, till she emerged, and follow her or something.

The slow thinker in him said: Go home. Sleep it off.

~​

Reg was ill. Would he like to get some overtime and do the Azura shift tonight?

Was the Pope a Catholic?

I wonder if she'll be there, on my first patrol, he wondered.

He wasn't a perv. But he'd brought his binoculars.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

Just like last night Andrea got home to her flat and kicked the front door shut with her heel, walking through to the sitting room with the lights out.

She wasn't a creature of habit, of course, it was just the obvious thing to do.

Dumping her bag by the kitchen she noticed that the sky was dull today above the empty offices and switched on her lights, the soft glow from various lamps feeling cosy and soothing.

Andrea started undoing her jeans as she approached the big windows, a sense of release as she drew the tight denim down her legs, kicking off her shoes at the same time. Perching on the side of the sofa she slowly unbuttoned the cream long sleeved blouse and slipped it off her shoulders, the three quarter black lace bra and matching Tanga style briefs elegant on her reflection.

Smiling happily to herself she got up and went to the kitchen for a wine, chilled white, today, she decided.

Sipping her wine, she returned to admiring her reflection in the windows, and setting the glass on a small table again leant back against the sofa, unhooking her bra and letting it fall.

It wasn't that she was being bad, or loose, or lewd, she told herself, just that she liked the feeling of no clothes.

So why stop there?

She stood up and drew the briefs over her hips and down her thighs to pool at her feet, and stepped out of them. Picking up her wine she looked at her self again, grinned with satisfaction, mussed her hair a bit, and spent the next while tidying up after herself pottering naked around the room.

 

[patr1ck]

Patrick had settled into Room 403. He had focused his binoculars on a man next door to the woman's who kept coming out on to his balcony and looking down below, as if he were expecting someone and was impatient for their arrival.

Patrick was patient. To be a security guard required patience. 15 hours a night, six patrols, time passed in a different way for him than for most of the population: no tv, no appointments, no radio, no rush. Sometimes he listened to classical concerts but tonight he just opened a window and tuned into the air. The hum of traffic on the main road a couple of blocks away. The rooks that gathered in a solitary old tree at the end of the street.

She didn't disappoint. The woman across the way. Her lights came on. As she moved towards the window, she was already in her underwear.

He felt as if she were posing just for him.

And soon she returned with a glass of wine, and was unhooking her bra. Her breasts weren't especially large, but they were lovely: round, 'pert', was that the word?

He didn't try to imagine he was in the room with her. He liked this distance: him looking through the binoculars, a gulf between them.

And then, she was taking off her panties.

He felt curiously satisfied. He wanted to applaud. To thank her.

And then, it was time for a patrol. And all through the building - the long corridors, the tidy and disordered offices, the conference rooms and that flickering light on the second floor - he saw her. In her bra and pants. Or nude. Performing for him. It was amazingly comforting.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

As usual, Andrea spent the rest of the evening with no clothes on.

Once she'd finished tidying she prepared another supper, this time a lasagne she'd made previously and simply reheated. That meant the apron, and while the food was heating up she went back into her main room in just the apron, breasts barely covered and totally bare behind, getting out a place mat and cutlery and setting them on the low table, just like she usually did.

That done she put away a few more of the things that were out, a magazine, a book, some notes from a lecture, and went to get her dinner which was now ready.

Hanging the apron on the kitchen door, she carried the steaming plate to the low table and knelt to eat and watch something on TV.

 

[patr1ck]

It was next morning - Kate the big receptionist was taking over from him, the early risers were already nodding as they passed his desk to start work - and Patrick was still adrift in the night before.

'You back again tonight?'

'No, Reg should be fit, but then it's Saturday next day, I'm here for 24 hours then.'

'I'll be painting the town red.' Kate always wanted to tell him about her drinking exploits but his mind was on other things this morning: 'Have a good time,' he said, and he was already on his way out.

He was going to be conspicuous, in his security guard uniform, but that might help if he was challenged by anyone. It was a dreary, drizzly morning. He didn't go down to the road, but up by the canal and across the little bridge that was part of the lock. In less than a minute he was at her block of flats. Buller Towers. Third floor. He just needed to know which one exactly.

He pressed a random button on another floor. 'DPD, got a parcel for another flat, can you buzz me in so I..?'

He didn't even have to finish his lie of an explanation. He'd been a delivery man for a little while. Too stressful. They knew where you were every minute. But he'd picked up a trick of the trade or two.

He liked the smell of Buller Towers. Potted plants on every floor, as he walked up the stairs. His heart was pounding. What if he passed her, if she opened her door? She wouldn't know he was. But still...

Third floor. He looked across to the Azura building. Imagined himself in room 403, looking over here. It was easy to work out the flat number. 302. He walked past the door, fast, wondering if he'd pick up a little of her scent, but there was nothing.

So he didn't go straight home. He went into the stationer's by the bus-stop. There were quite a lot of cheeky cards with women on the front, but he chose a simple one. A martini glass, with its contents fizzing. BLANK FOR YOUR OWN MESSAGE.

He stood in a doorway and wrote in the card: I guard the Azura building opposite you at night. I have to confess, I can see right into your flat. I hope you don't mind my telling you, I thought you might like to know. Patrick. patricklinney@yahoo.co.uk

He dropped it in the postbox for flat number 302 on his way home. Let the dice fall as they would.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

As she left for the university Andrea collected her mail from the lobby as usual and stuffed it in her bag for later.

Today was a fairly busy morning of lectures, seminars and library time and it was lunch before she checked what had come through the post.

Usual rubbish, mostly about pizza deals; and a card. Intriguing.

Her name wasn't on the outside, but she assumed it was for her.

A nice fizzy cocktail on the front, and inside .. her face froze, drained white, and she put a hand onto the table to steady herself.

She closed the card, looked away, looked back and opened it.

It still said the same thing.

With a slightly shaky hand she picked up her orange juice and took a sip. It needed vodka in it right now.

Ok, so take it a piece at a time. Breathe. In. out. Ok.

He gave a name and email address, which if it was real meant he wasn't trying to harm her. Ok, so check the email address. He was letting her know, not blackmailing her.

Dragging her phone out she sent an email.

"Are you the person who sent me the cocktail glass card this morning?"

She breathed a little easier. Either it was him, and a real email, or not. She'd know by the end of the day, probably. It was going to be a long day.

 

[patr1ck]

After four night-shifts in succession Patrick slept through to the late afternoon. He woke up to the fact that the little bedsitter was a mess. How could one man make such a tangle in such a tiny area?

By being out of work all day.

Still, the room with its little kitchen and bathroom next door was all he could afford, till the divorce came through, and in half an hour he had it tidy enough that he could sit down with a mug of coffee and a banana, and stop pretending he hadn't been wondering since he woke about the woman in flat 302.

He fired up his laptop.

She'd replied.

Hey.

He had a name. He immediately Google her but couldn't find anything on a first search, or maybe he'd misspelt it or something, and anyway he was eager to reply.

Hi Andrea

Yes I'm the person who sent you the cocktail glass card this morning. I'll be back on duty on Saturday. Thanks for replying. If that isn't too daft to say. Here, attached this is me, but without the silly uniform I have to wear when I'm at work.

Take care

Patrick

He chose a picture of him on a walk last summer, bare-headed and smiling into the sun. He didn't look quite so middle-aged as he was in real life, or she thought.

Why was he even worrying? He'd never hear from ehr again, would he?

SEND.

Don't click on to, you know what, he said to himself. Get out and shop. Make dinner. Be kind to yourself.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

It was early evening when Andrea received his email.

A photo, and a normal sounding message. This wasn't being creepy at all. It made her wonder.

She'd already decided to change her routine this evening, and hadn't taken any clothes off on getting home, instead staying in her smart blouse and skirt while she made some dinner and watched tv.

She missed being naked. But if Patrick had seen her nude from over the canal, what were the chances that another security guard had as well? Knowing the dark windows over there were not fronting an empty office block after all had seriously cramped her style, as some people might say.

It was annoying. Irritating. A little scary too. What if they had binoculars? Or one of those expensive cameras with a telewhatsit lense? What if her nude photo was already plastered over the internet? She'd never know, wouldn't begin to know where to look.

It was kind of an invasion. Her place was supposed to be hers. On the other hand, no one made her get naked at a big picture window with her lights on.

She decided to email Patrick back.

Thanks for the email, Patrick, you're quite the gentleman to tell me you've seen me naked, rather than just enjoy the show. I appreciate it.

And thanks for the photo so I know who I'm talking to. Or was it because you already have a page full of photos of me?

If you do, good luck to you. It was my own fault for letting myself be seen.

Andi

She signed off and pressed SEND.

Hopefully that cleared the air. But she did want to get a reply.

 

[patr1ck]

It was always hard to adjust, when you'd been on nights several nights running. Patrick had a few pints at his local, hoping it would give him a good night's sleep, but instead he lay in his bed, fretful, and had to get up again at 2 a.m.

She had a name. Andi.

That was decent of her, to reply.

He sort of wished he'd taken a page full of photos of her. And sort of was glad he hadn't of course.

Of course.

Porn in the middle of the night was really dissatisfying.

Alas at 3 a.m. he found the remnants of a bottle of vodka he'd kept from some self-pity-party a couple of weeks ago, and soon he was writing to her.

But he didn't send it till morning, after a quick reread in the cold light of day.

Hi Andi

That was kind of you to write back.

I hope you won't mind my saying that you looked very good indeed when I saw you. But no, I wouldn't dream of taking photos of you without your permission. Let me know any time you want me to take some candid shots though!

I'll be back on duty Saturday for 24 hours. Do give me a wave if you see me, you can probably watch me in return because I have to patrol the whole building every few hours. It's quite boring but it gives me time to catch up on my reading the rest of the time.

Are you a teacher or something?

Please don't feel you have to reply, it was good to hear from you.

Patrick

 

[AndreaSubbie]

After taking a shower, dressing and getting breakfast she again checked her emails and messages.

Ah, a reply from Patrick.

How charming, she thought. Just the right blend of naughty humour and fun without being smutty.

Smiling to herself she wrote reply:

Hi Patrick,

Thanks for the compliment. What a gentleman you are. However unless you have a very long lense, I imagine any candid shots would have an image so tiny as to be not worth the effort.

Oh, and I'm a student, not a teacher.

On Saturday I shall be out most of the morning, but will wave from my window on the even numbered hours until bed time. I shall be clothed; I hope that's not a disappointment?

Andi

After pressing SEND, Andrea wondered if she were fishing for more compliments, but decided it was just harmless banter.

And with that done she went to college.

 

[patr1ck]

Friday he felt more purposive than he had done for a long time. His old friend Sean had been trying to persuade him to use his old teaching skills to learn how to be a trainer. Patrick had been too depressed by his memories of teaching and how his life had gone awry to take up the idea.

Till Friday. He filled out an application for a course. And then another.

And then he emailed Andi:

Hi Andi,

Lovely to hear from you again. You are kind to reply. As it happens I do have a long lens! I used to sit for hours in a hide watching birds, the feathered kind (!) up at the Perry Valley Nature Reserve. Oyster catchers, cormorants, all sorts up there. I've somehow lost my enthusiasm for that lately though.

I'll look forward to your waves tomorrow. It can be quite lonely on a 24-hour shift, I phone in every two hours and otherwise there's just me and the building. If you feel like emailing at all - tell me what you study for instance - that'd be really nice. But again, I don't want to presume on you just because I thought you looked terrific from a distance

Patrick

 

[AndreaSubbie]

Saturday morning was always a treat.

Andrea usually rose early and went out for breakfast to a lovely cafe nearby, for wonderful freshly made coffee and a salmon with cream cheese bagel.

Then it would out for a little shopping, maybe some clothes or books or flowers. Meet up with a group of friends for morning coffee, visit the park, a spot of lunch with one or two close friends, then back to her apartment.

As promised, from 2pm onwards, on every even numbered hour Andrea stood at her big window gazing out at the urban view, and waved. Today she was dressed in a simple cotton button front dress, yellow flowers on a green background, short sleeves, hem above her knees, sandals on her feet. She would gaze out, then after a while turn her back, then move further into her apartment and continue whatever she was doing whether reading a book or newspaper or watching a film.

At the end of the evening after dinner and a tv movie, she openend her laptop and looked at her emails.

She had already sent Patrick a message on Friday:

Hi Patrick

You should get your long lense out again. A man shouldn't go too long without playing with his equipment, don't you find? Hopefully soon you'll come across another subject worthy of your attention.

You asked what I study. Its Creative Writing. And thank you for the compliment,

Andi

 

[patr1ck]

A man shouldn't go too long without playing with his equipment.

No.

She was a student of Creative Writing. It would be no accident, what she had written. So he was allowed to laugh.

He laughed.

In a box of stuff he hadn't looked at since he moved here (old photo albums, the gifts he got when he gave up teaching) he dug out the old telephoto lens. He still remembered the row with his ex-wife when he'd said they couldn't afford a holiday in Crete or somewhere and she'd found the receipt for the lens. It was a beauty, though. Great autofocus, off-white to reduce heat buildup, image stabilisation...

It took good pictures.

At midday the next day, Saturday, he was at the window of room 403, taking good pictures of the window of flat 302. She wasn't there. There was a lot of glare from the sun.

At two the glare had eased and his heart thudded. She was there.He hadn't seen her this close before. Wow she was pretty. Her dress green sprinkled with yellow, like a breath of summer.

At four he caught her in a slightly different pose. A succession of shots.

He sat down below, a few minutes later, sorting through the images on his laptop. He didn't want to look too obsessive, so he only sent two images. Pretty as a picture he wrote in the subject line. He ached to write something else but he was lost for words.

By just after six, with another image to send, he had worked out what to say. You look terrific. I like your sense of colour. The buttons are a nice feature, but, you know, don't mind me if you want to undo any of them.
Hey, and tell me what you like to write. Any fantasies about relationships? Or faraway places, or whatever?
Thanks, anyway, for coming to the window. P

 

[AndreaSubbie]

Later in the evening Andrea checked her emails again and was pleased to see another from Patrick over the road.

It made her smile.

She sent back:

Thanks for the pictures, you're a pretty good photographer, but then you said you've spent hours studying and photographing birds; I imagine you're quite the expert on form, and know what you like?

Most of my writing is assignments from my Course, but when I write for my own amusement it's about things that give me pleasure, like the enjoyment of being naked at home, which I now miss.

Good luck with the hard duty, but keep it up!

Andi

She sent the email, and after watching some TV promptly at 8pm stood at the window and waved, but as a little gift to Patrick she'd undone a button of her dress so it was now only fastened from bra to mid thigh.

That done, she went in search of a film to watch.

 

[patr1ck]

Keep it up.

Desire nagged at him, in his mind and - between his legs.

Being naked at home, which I now miss.

A little over halfway through his shift, he reread her last email.

...expert on form and know what you like..

He swiped through his photos of her. He'd transferred them over to his laptop, so they were larger. The level of detail he could achieve with the lens was amazing. Her pretty face. Her dainty hands. The turn of her shoulders.

Her skin revealed by the undone button.

He was tired. There was nothing to lose. He had nothing in life to lose any more. He wrote back to her:

You've been very kind to me. I'm sorry I've made you miss the pleasure of your own nakedness. Look, don't hesitate to say this is not OK. But - here's a suggestion. I'm good at taking pictures. Maybe it's all I'm good at. I love it. Just as you love being naked. At nine - or ten if you don't receive this before then - display as much of your body as you want. I'll take pictures. I'll send them to you. It'll be our game. Then, if we want to go on, we can decide what can be in the next pictures. Just for our pleasure. Patrick.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

At about half nine the movie came to an end and Andrea went to the kitchen for another glass of wine.

Returning to the sitting room she checked her emails again, and smiled seeing another from Patrick.

It was getting so she positively looked forward to them.

The message made her smile, and she glanced over to her big windown even though she knew Patrick wouldn't be watching.

A thought occured to her. Why not?

She undid all the buttons of her dress and went over to stand facing the window but where she was still lit from the front. She weaved a little like she was dancing to some melody, her black satin briefs and bra visible between the open fronts of her dress.

Then she returned to the sofa and wrote back.

Hey Patrick,

I have to agree, you are good at taking pictures, and it is true that I enjoy being naked.

I'll wave again at 10, but haven't yet decided what I'll wear. A surprise for us both.

Maybe you can make a suggestion for the next one?

Andi