The Neighbor Who Found Out I Watched Her Every Morning

7:15 in the morning, and the phone alarm vibrates against the nightstand. I switch it off before the second beep and cross the apartment barefoot, without turning on any lights. I press myself against the door, hold my breath, and bring my eye to the peephole. It’s my ritual. I’ve been doing it for months and my heart still pounds like it did the first time.

On the other side of the hall, I hear the lock on 403. The door opens, closes softly, and then Marina’s heels start clicking down the stairs.

That was the signal. As soon as she’d gone down one floor, I’d quietly open my door, making the least noise possible, and lean out from above to watch her descend. She worked in an office area and always left looking immaculate: tight dresses that outlined her legs, some blouse with just the right neckline. When the neckline was loose, I’d stay there, motionless, stealing a moment she had never given me.

Some mornings I had to wait a minute or two. Other times I got there just in time. And in the afternoons I’d try to make out her steps on the stairs, though it was harder: she came back in comfortable shoes, at different hours, sometimes dropped off at the building entrance by her boyfriend. But when we met on the landing and she had to go up one more floor, I’d keep looking up, admiring her legs, imagining what those short dresses were hiding.

That was my routine. Until one Thursday afternoon.

***

I saw her come in looking wrecked, carrying two grocery bags that seemed twice as heavy because of the mood she was in. I managed a barely audible “good afternoon,” and she answered through clenched teeth without looking at me and kept going upstairs. I, faithful to my habit, followed her step by step with my eyes.

Then one of the bags gave way. The plastic tore and the groceries rolled down the stairs, a can bouncing until it stopped at my feet.

For a second I froze. She’s going to realize I was staring at her ass. But I reacted and went up to help her. We picked everything up together, and when only the last can was left, we both bent down at the same time, she one step above me. When I looked up, her neckline was right at my face, so close that the edge of her bra had shifted and the tip of a nipple was showing.

Marina gave me a tired smile, barely a grimace through the frustration of the day, and went upstairs. I stayed rooted to the step, breathless. For months I had been spying on her and at last I had mattered to her. At last I had had her within inches of me.

***

The next morning, 7:15, eye to the peephole. 7:20. 7:30. 7:45 and nothing. No heels, no door. Did something happen to her? Was it because of her face yesterday? At 8:15 I peeled myself away from the door, uneasy.

Close to ten, someone knocked. I forgot the peephole and opened the door at once. It was her, standing in the doorway, in pink leggings and with her hair tied back.

—I just came by to thank you again for last night —she said—. With the bags. Yesterday was hell and I didn’t even thank you.

—No, no, it was nothing —I stammered—. Really.

—Everything okay? —I dared to ask—. Do we need to go break someone’s face? You tell me.

She let out a short laugh, probably the first one of the day.

—Problems at work. My boss is unbearable. We had a horrible fight and I ended up quitting. —Her voice broke at the end and a tear trembled on the edge of her eye.

—We all have days like that, neighbor. And bosses who don’t even deserve a hello. —I put my hand on her shoulder. First real contact. Barely a brush, but I recorded it as a victory.

We chatted a few more minutes and she said goodbye. I, unable to help myself, followed her with my eyes down the hallway, lost in the sway of those pink leggings that seemed designed to ruin my sanity.

***

In the weeks that followed my routine continued the same: spying on her as she left, hoping for a chance encounter on the way back. Now, at least, she knew I existed.

One night I got back from a meeting after one in the morning, with several drinks in me. In front of the building there was a car with its hazards on, and inside Marina was saying goodbye to her boyfriend with a long kiss, one of those that never quite comes to an end. A mix of lust, desire, and stupid anger rose up my chest, fueled by alcohol.

I killed time. I walked slowly from the building door to the start of the stairs, stretching out the seconds until I heard the lobby door close and her heels clicking behind me. I turned as if surprised.

—Well, neighbor, what a miracle running into you here —I said, much more at ease than usual. I leaned in to kiss her on the cheek and, to my surprise, she accepted it without pulling away.

—Just getting in —she murmured, and I noticed her tipsy breath, like mine.

—You look gorgeous. Out partying too? —I let her go first so she could climb and I could follow, step by step, the line of that tight black dress.

—Every once in a while you have to let loose —she said, and kept talking, but the sway of her hips in front of me cut me off completely. I didn’t hear another word.

—Do you like what you see? —she asked suddenly, without turning around.

—Huh? Sorry? —Only then did I realize we were on the second-floor landing.

—I said, do you like what you see? —she repeated, now turning toward me, one eyebrow raised.

Alcohol saved me from going mute, but it didn’t give me the courage to tell the truth.

—Don’t you want to come over to my place for a drink? —I blurted out, the only thing I could think of to get out of the question.

I was sure she’d say no. She said yes.

***

We went up to my apartment. I invited her to sit down and, when I offered coffee, she looked at me as if I’d said something stupid and asked if I had anything stronger. Luckily there was half a bottle of tequila left. I got out two small glasses, found something to snack on in the kitchen —a little cheese and ham— and went back to the living room.

Marina was on the couch, legs crossed, with an amused expression I didn’t know on her. I poured, we toasted.

—Do you always bring your girlfriends here? —she asked teasingly.

—Sometimes friends come over —I replied, and for the first time I played along without stammering.

—And now are you going to answer me or keep dancing around it?

—About what?

—I’ll put it another way. Do you think I’m pretty?

—Very pretty —I answered, and threw back the tequila in one swallow.

—And my legs? Don’t you think they’re fat? —She brought them together and stretched them out, watching me.

—You have beautiful legs —I said, while I felt my own body start to react.

She stood up from the couch, turned her back to me, and slid her hands over her hips.

—And this ass? Do you find it attractive?

—Very —I admitted, my throat dry.

—That’s why you were staring so hard while I went up the stairs, right? —She turned slowly, step by step, until she was within inches of me—. Not just tonight, either, but every morning, when you come out of your apartment just as I go down. And every afternoon too, there you are.

I felt like I’d been doused with ice water. She had found me out. And from her smile, she had known for a long time.

—You think I don’t notice? —she pressed, amused by my embarrassment—. I count your steps behind mine.

Standing there like that, her neckline was right in front of me. Impossible not to look, impossible not to get lost. And, to my humiliation, my body responded without permission.

—Do you like them? —she asked, lowering her voice.

—They’re beautiful —I said.

—How do you know, if you haven’t seen them?

She took my hands and brought them to her breasts. My thumbs slipped over the edge of her neckline and brushed her nipples, already hard. She closed her eyes and let me, her breathing getting heavier and heavier. I leaned in and ran my tongue along the line between her breasts; a shiver went through her whole body.

—Today they left me horny and half-finished —she murmured, sliding one hand down to feel what I could no longer hide—. I think you’re going to be the one to take home the prize.

***

I stood up, loosened my belt, and let my pants fall. She locked eyes with me, unbothered, and closed the distance. Her hand freed me with a slow caress, her fingertips tracing me from top to bottom until they pulled a sigh out of me that seemed to surprise her.

I stroked her cheek and kissed her, softly at first, an exploratory kiss that she opened right away with her tongue. Without stopping kissing her, I lowered the zipper on her dress and unclipped her bra. The fabric fell between us and at last I saw her: two firm breasts crowned with nipples begging for attention.

I moved down her neck, her shoulders, her chest. She was biting her lower lip with her eyes closed, her body arched toward me. I kept going, tracing every inch of her skin with my lips until the dress finished sliding off and she was stretched out on the couch.

—You’re an incredible woman —I told her, lost between her legs—. I don’t understand how anyone leaves you horny and half-finished.

—Take advantage of it. It doesn’t happen every day —she panted.

I took my time with my tongue, attentive to every reaction, while she tangled her fingers in my hair and pressed me against her. Her moans grew louder, less and less contained, until her body went completely taut and she let go with a cry that must have gone through the walls of the building.

—I can’t take it anymore —she said between gasps—. I need you now.

***

I led her to the bedroom between kisses. I fell backward onto the bed and she climbed on top of me, guiding me with her own hand, descending slowly, determined to enjoy every instant. I held her by the hips, trying to stretch the moment out, not knowing if I’d ever have her like this again.

When she took control, she set a rhythm that left me breathless. She threw her head back, looked for my mouth, then sat up again. We kissed like lovers and moved like lovers. At one point I slapped her ass; the sound electrified her and drove her even faster.

I made her turn and got behind her, never breaking contact, with that view I had imagined so many mornings from the stairs. She buried her face in the pillow, moaning, begging me not to stop. I didn’t stop. I clenched my teeth until I couldn’t anymore, and we collapsed together, trembling, in one last shudder that left us without strength.

***

Afterward she collapsed onto the bed, her back shining with sweat. I lay down beside her and stroked her face. She hugged me, kissed my chest, and we stayed like that, tangled together, speaking softly about nothing in particular. Little by little I felt her relax until she fell asleep.

I watched her a while longer, still hardly able to believe it. It was past five in the morning. For the first time in months, I didn’t need the peephole to see her.