Sensual

Sensuality and the carnal action of most sexuality is felt to hinder enlightenment by some in Buddhism while it is adopted that you respectfully refrain from wrong doing in sensuality. You refrain from intercourse with underage, married and engaged partners and those protected by family or law. The Buddha held a very realistic view that can be possible in modern conditions. There's a respect and desire not to cause another suffering in Buddhism and this translates to sexuality. You see in most western cultures the exploration of sex, like most pleasure seeking activities can cause suffering between those involved. Either deliberate or unintentional. In Buddhism there are no laws, rules or commandments to obey. It is not a biblical religion and purely lies in your ability to restrain yourself and engage in behavior that is mutually consensual. Simply put: If a behavior does not feel good you do not do it; If a behavior feels appropriate you allow yourself to feel it. This premise transfers to sex and the connection people can experience with one another. Sensuality isn't a bad thing, being disrespectful of your partner and yourself is. 

Here's a bit of erotic flash fiction that I wrote a few years ago. I had it published online but the site has restructured. As soon as I hear back from the editor I will drop the link for you dirty birds. 

Enjoy! 

Kisses, m. 

Voyeur

(2-26-10)

Voyeur. People watching. Everyone does it. No one thinks anybody the worse for it. A simple glance over a busy room. Fleeting eyes across the open plaza. A thousand stories revealed to the anonymous bystander. Never been one for snooping on others. No intention of being the uninvited observer in the scene. Until I find myself all alone. Restless in the night. Unable to be entertained with the typical book and glass of Merlot. Pacing across the apartment, I catch the glimpse of light in the open view.  Familiar movement in the distance catches my eye. Something intriguing that can not escape my vision in the building across the way. Quickly I look around for my glasses when it becomes clear, the telescope. Jion sent it over as a housewarming gift three months ago. Devilish Jion, with his gift. The inscription, “Don’t worry about who’s watching you, as long as you’re watching back.” He knew I’d never use it. Or did he know curiosity would get the best of me eventually?

Curiously I grasp my new gift for the first time. Fingers gently find a home along the metal shaft. My eye dilates as it attempts to focus sight through the lens. Night opens up before my view. The buildings that surround are half alive with light and reflections. With a slight push I spin the arm. Winding down the building floor by floor until I can find my target. Along the way there are empty rooms and hallways filled with strangers exiting elevators, watching TVs, and making dinners. Once again discovering the movement, I stop. The golden hue illuminates the room in the building before me. Center of my attention is blurry but familiar. Carefully I lift my hand and move the dial. Click. Click. Aha.

Legs part as she reclines backwards. Open mouth, as her fingers run along his skin, savoring every movement below. Lifting himself upward and pauses before pursuing further. Waiting she trembles, never looking away. Hands rest upon bare breasts then trail down the front of her body as he kneels against the chaise. One leg remains on the ground as he rests slightly above her. She leans back on elbows against the lounge. Down he leans in and kisses her neck. Hands remain downward between her thighs. Every movement sends her head back with an open mouth. Pleasure. Descent continues. Further. His hips drop against hers rocking inward. Pelvis tilting upward. Legs lifting and falling in a hypnotic rhythm before circling around torso. Sweat dripping down. Faces alive with bliss. Open for view. Open for me. Open to me. Returning my view.

Turn away I think. Despite my blushing face I can’t look away. Smiling. Caught while I’m catching the act. Adjust the front of my coat to reveal my bare skin to him. His eyes continue to lock onto my position. All the while pursuing his fulfillment. I should stop now. But the show is far from over. My mind still wandering as I watch my hands began playing with my bare skin. Wet places explored as hot breath escapes my warm mouth.

The progression continues. She lifts his neck and makes tiny bites below the chin. Tongue crawls along the neck leaving a wet imprint. Hands lift and fall with frenzied intent. Gripping outer thighs. Tugging at waistline. Eyes are open and locked with intent. Wet lips meeting to consume before falling downward to devour at flesh. Heads rocking with sheer involvement of their arrangement. Arms pull and push as they grasp for more. Faster. Deeper. My thrusting fingers compete with the movements that climb toward a purpose. Quietly the act of passion declines. A final embrace quakes in unison. Smoothly he lifts himself upward. Standing over her open legs he smiles with sheer satisfaction. Her hands reach up and caress his torso while he turns and edges towards the window. Sliding onto her side she connects with my stare now. Fingers circling her bare breasts while she calmly watches him watching me. Boldly revealing himself, he leans in and nudges at the glass with a hand that entices. Inviting. So inviting.

Out the door.

It's a long weekend and some people are heading out the door. I know I'll be in and out the door all weekend with friends, family and whoever else comes along. The story was from a series of voyeuristic ones and there were more than a handful produced. One was published online. Anyhoo... So the question is: are you a complete voyeur or complete exhibitionist? I think some people are more one than the other, and others are little bit of both. What kind are you?  As much as I love to people watch on occasion I enjoy the aspect of interaction far more and whenever that happens it is truly amazing. And that happens anytime you step out the door. The truth of the matter... you'll never be free unless you let go completely. Let go. Keep going. enjoy. kisses. m. 

Out the door.

(9-7-2010)

Out the door. Means different things to people. A lot of things can happen on the outside. You have no idea how much can go on in the inside. But there’s so much more on the outside than meets the naked eye.

Outside my back door there are two overgrown trees a small chair and me resting. From the moment I stepped off that plane it was an image that stuck in my head and all I could think about. Seventeen months and counting backwards from the plane ride, where I’m ready to step in lock the front door and take a rest from the life away from home.

Stepping in and dropping off the old suitcase felt like a weight being yanked clean off my chest. The idea of spending the next thirty days behind closed doors sounded more than inviting to my old bones. Getting to know the layout of my own place once again as I look at the familiar surroundings. TV is where I left it. A nice thick coat of dust covers the screen along with a large happy face etched into the dust. Stack of magazines and newspapers are in the corner where they were when I left. Trigger’s dog dishes are empty but he’ll be coming home in a day from my sister’s place.

The view is still amazing. The back porch balcony overlooks the next door neighbor’s property without any visible obstructions. I can’t help watching their movements while I’m watching the sky. There’s a statue wearing high heels dancing with a chair that has arms for legs moving across the blue skies when a man chasing a woman around the patio furniture with her voice screaming wild accusations. I can’t see his face as he keeps trying to reach out to grab her before shoving her into the table. There’s a quick struggle that she breaks free from with a knee to his crotch. It’s when she darts into the house that I realize that I can see directly into their kitchen. I decide that I need to redesign mine when I see the terracotta colored tiles leading into the dining room adjacent kitchen. She’s hitting him with a piece of dish towel before throwing and connecting with a frying pan up side his head after he follows her inside. Once he recovers the frying pan flies back into her direction and takes her down up connection. Its then I realize that the decorating can wait but my chair between the trees below can not.

My nap proves to be more unmoving that intended. I awake far after civil twilight to darkness and loud sounds of unpleasantness from the couple next door. I try to remember if this is the same happy couple that lived next door seventeen months ago. This is before I get up and look through the fence. The sound of my own breath is heavy as it bounces off the fence. The porch light from the other yard hits me squarely in the eye. I try to remember if I locked the front door while I’m watching the pair run through their house screaming via glimpses in the open window panels. The thought of being caught watching the dueling duo sits at the front of my mind, but I don’t stop.

This time around she’s winning. It’s been twenty-five minutes and I’ve gathered that he’s been caught in a lie or two while away on business. She’s continued to remain visible all through the fight, his whereabouts shift here and there but not consistent. I’m still missing his face as he walks through on occasion to deal a slap to her shrieking face or a push against her swinging hands, but it’s mostly through the shuffles between rooms that I hear the story. And it’s mostly her side of the story. Their fight seems more one-sided than fair as it circles back through the house and outside again. I can’t believe I’m taking sides in the fight when I realize it’s time to head out of it. Up and inside.

After the shower I’m sitting outside the house again. It’s quiet and there’s a blanket of stars out. The city lights can’t even keep out the brilliant colors. It’s right about the moment my eyes visualize a tiny dancer in the sky when I hear it. My eyes can’t focus on the exact direction but it lasts for over a minute. The long lengthy scream echoes into the darkness. It’s when I can hear it but can’t see it that I realize there’s almost no lights on next door but someone’s shadow moving through the house but the lights never come on. The reaction on my insides barely matches the one on my outside. Yet I do nothing but watch.

The colors of dawn illuminate nothing more than the rooftop of the house next door. My eyes focus on the small light of day and realize I’ve fallen asleep outside with my binoculars around my neck when I see the large plastic bags sitting on the back porch across from my view. A bit further back I can see something through open doorway resting upon the terracotta tiles that lead into the adjacent dining room. A large mallet. The kind you might use for removing walls before restoring them. Alongside there’s a large dark spot that has dried in the shape of Italy. The Italian peninsula lays next to a potential murder weapon and my mind questions that reasoning but never stops considering it.

Mid-morning napping is almost essential when you’ve managed to stay up all night watching the next door entertainment. It’s a quarter to ten when I’m awoken to the sound of my doorbell and the barking of Trigger outside of it. After my sister has been kind enough to bring him over we’re taking a brief walk outside of the front of the house. It’s then that I can see the neighbor man dragging out those plastic bags full of the unknown to the edge of the curb. His face is shadowed by a torn ball cap. My eyes wander over and under the plastic bags of potential death and keep looking for a hint of change in his demeanor. There’s no change. Trigger pulls at his leash toward the bags on the curb and begins barking loudly. The neighbor watches us watching him and quickly moves to drag the bags back to his property. Trigger gets louder and becomes more intent on the neighbor. I lean in and hug my sister goodbye and continue yanking the dog back. She tells me to call her later in the week and I nod before slipping back into the house with my persistent dog.

Late afternoon. It’s after 2pm when Trigger has had his lunch and decides to dig in the cool corner of the back yard near the fence. I can’t imagine why he’s over there, but the neighbor man with his hat is entertaining a guest or two. There’s no sign of the woman but from the looks it’s a pair of police officers. They seem to be asking him questions and pointing to the house next door to us. My guess is that I’m not the only one watching. It’s another time that I’m deciding that it best to see what Trigger is up to rather than find out what happened next door. Especially if someone saw more than I then there’s no need to worry. It will all be handled accordingly.

Thirty-five minutes before five o’clock when he’s done it. Trigger unearths a hole that reaches the other side of the fence and he’s found a part of something in the dirt. From the part he’s brought me, it looks like a bone. I can’t tell what kind of bone. It’s rather larger than anything from an animal. I think that I don’t’ remember giving him bones in the past as I fill the hole with dirt. Three feet away on the other side of the fence is my neighbor who is watching me push the dirt back into the hole. I think about saying hello but by the time it becomes an action the man is gone.

Another night beneath the stars except it’s quieter. The neighbor house is still but very well lit. There’s no sign of bags or mallets. But the man in a ball cap crosses the kitchen followed by another woman. It’s then the man moves to reveal an interesting secret. Long hair with a shake of the hat tumbles out. The other woman pours a glass of white wine and the woman now minus the hat pulls out a box from a cabinet in the dining room and unwraps something inside of it. They are admiring an oddly shaped object from within the box when the first woman moves to the kitchen taking the covered object. I can see her move to uncover the object once again before slicing part of it off. A thin sized sliver that resembles part of a finger. They look up and over toward my direction. She looks back at the other woman and then the object before slicing into it again and again while laughing. One by one the fingers, the pieces fall climbing upwards to the top of an arm and I step backwards into the inside of my own. Locking the door behind me. 

Voyeur.

Oh so early in the afternoon for a little bit of dirty down in your soul. How about it? People watching. We all have voyeuristic tendencies. But how far do you take it? Are you a bit of a pervert that likes to peep behind the eye of a telescope? Or is it something that happens without warning? Like stumbling upon a couple making love in the street. Do you watch? What would you do? This is a little revised and R-rated from last year from a series of voyeuristic pieces. And it was published online at The Pittsburg Flash Fiction Gazette… if you fancy a bit of literotica, I suggest you have a look there. Anyway, have fun people watching… I know I will but not nearly as much as I enjoy participating in every aspect of life, love and breathing. But to each their own. Gotta live your own life. Not everyone will see it as you do. So... How about you? Do you love to watch more than you love to get involved? I guess some people do. Enjoy. kisses. m.

Voyeur.

(2-26-10)

Voyeur. People watching. Everyone does it. No one thinks anybody the worse for it. A simple glance over a busy room. Fleeting eyes across the open plaza. A thousand stories revealed to the anonymous bystander. Never been one for snooping on others. No intention of being the uninvited observer in the scene. Until I find myself all alone. Restless in the night. Unable to be entertained with the typical book and glass of Merlot. Pacing across the apartment, I catch the glimpse of light in the open view.  Familiar movement in the distance catches my eye. Something intriguing that can not escape my vision in the building across the way. Quickly I look around for my glasses when it becomes clear, the telescope. Jion sent it over as a housewarming gift three months ago. Devilish Jion, with his gift. The inscription, “Don’t worry about who’s watching you, as long as you’re watching back.” He knew I’d never use it. Or did he know curiosity would get the best of me eventually?

Curiously I grasp my new gift for the first time. Fingers gently find a home along the metal shaft. My eye dilates as it attempts to focus sight through the lens. Night opens up before my view. The buildings that surround are half alive with light and reflections. With a slight push I spin the arm. Winding down the building floor by floor until I can find my target. Along the way there are empty rooms and hallways filled with strangers exiting elevators, watching TVs, and making dinners. Once again discovering the movement, I stop. The golden hue illuminates the room in the building before me. Center of my attention is blurry but familiar. Carefully I lift my hand and move the dial. Click. Click. Aha.

Legs part as she reclines backwards. Open mouth, as her fingers run along his skin, savoring every movement below. Lifting himself upward and pauses before pursuing further. Waiting she trembles, never looking away. Hands rest upon bare breasts then trail down the front of her body as he kneels against the chaise. One leg remains on the ground as he rests slightly above her. She leans back on elbows against the lounge. Down he leans in and kisses her neck. Hands remain downward between her thighs. Every movement sends her head back with an open mouth. Pleasure. Descent continues. Further. His hips drop against hers rocking inward. Pelvis tilting upward. Legs lifting and falling in a hypnotic rhythm before circling around torso. Sweat dripping down. Faces alive with bliss. Open for view. Open for me. Open to me. Returning my view.

Turn away I think. Despite my blushing face I can’t look away. Smiling. Caught while I’m catching the act. Adjust the front of my coat to reveal my bare skin to him. His eyes continue to lock onto my position. All the while pursuing his fulfillment. I should stop now. But the show is far from over. My mind still wandering as I watch my hands began playing with my bare skin. Wet places explored as hot breath escapes my warm mouth.

The progression continues. She lifts his neck and makes tiny bites below the chin. Tongue crawls along the neck leaving a wet imprint. Hands lift and fall with frenzied intent. Gripping outer thighs. Tugging at waistline. Eyes are open and locked with intent. Wet lips meeting to consume before falling downward to devour at flesh. Heads rocking with sheer involvement of their arrangement. Arms pull and push as they grasp for more. Faster. Deeper. My thrusting fingers compete with the movements that climb toward a purpose. Quietly the act of passion declines. A final embrace quakes in unison. Smoothly he lifts himself upward. Standing over her open legs he smiles with sheer satisfaction. Her hands reach up and caress his torso while he turns and edges towards the window. Sliding onto her side she connects with my stare now. Fingers circling her bare breasts while she calmly watches him watching me. Boldly revealing himself, he leans in and nudges at the glass with a hand that entices. Inviting. So inviting.

Watcher.

Watcher.

The mornings are always the best for watching things move outside the windows with the light colors of the day. It’s morning when I do this most. Watch the windows. Look for the slight movements of the birds in the trees and people getting into their cars while the still sounds of the day start to jump to louder sounds of life. The sounds inside are almost as inviting. From where I’m sitting I can scan the entire room without so much of a shift or twitch.

It’s after the birds and before I see the neighbor hit his trash can that I’m watching Gregor. I’m watching him get up and get dressed in his usual routine of yoga, shower, and food when there’s a ring of the phone. He stops to show me affection with his free hand while the other quickly jots down notes that match the quickness of his voice. Hanging up the line he flips on the tube for me, before finishing his routine and although it makes my eyes dart attentively there’s nothing of interest to see. It’s before he leaves that he fills a small container with a handful of crackers and packs them in his pocket. Open and out the door but not so fast I get a wave and a smile. Gregor looks tired but this doesn’t change... oh how I love the colors of the mornings with the birds, trees and people.

It’s in the late afternoon that I find I like to groom myself. The thought of dirtiness sets me into a bit of an internal argument so I began the ritual of cleansing. Careful attention to every detail. Up and down the right front and working my way back clockwork against the grain of tan and repeating until I feel that the need has been sufficiently satisfied. For nearly an hour sometimes I can lose myself into this routine of cleaning while the maid washes the dishes and vacuums the hallway I keep my focus on the small pieces of dirt caught in between my hair.

The maid isn’t here today and that doesn’t matter except I’m not lost in the moment for long and wanting to eat again. Most days it’s before I clean and walk the perimeter of the house that I eat, but not today. Today there’s no maid and Gregor was late. But there’s someone new outside the window so I’m staying instead of eating. She’s not very friendly and looks to be the size of small girl and there’s she standing looking at me look at her in the window…

I wonder when Gregor is coming home when the girl walks away only she isn’t away but at another window and there’s no way to know about Gregor without the maid leaving today. Gregor never misses paying her on weekends and she isn’t here to take it so there’s no need to rush.

After playing with the small miniature man with a bell around his neck, I forget about eating, cleaning and the girl.

Laundry is what happens every Friday at 6:30. It’s the time that Gregor spends talking to me. I like when he talks with me. It so happens he always has a very interesting treat to share with me as gathers up clothes and talks while I watch. Into the bag he pushes piece after piece, but not tonight, he’s later that he should be and that small girl isn’t where she ought to be.

It’s nearly dusk outside and I like to watch the colors of the evening start deepening. Through the shadows I can see the neighbors outside cat, to which I refer to this feline in the loosest term of ownership, walking across the perimeter of the property fence. Fluffy, who resembles more of a FLAT looks like a dirty smelly oversized rodent with her small pieces of grey hair matted against the few remaining pieces of white, is chasing a small bug across the top of the fence. I’m almost envious when the girl that ought to be somewhere else is making too much noise while Gregor still isn’t here.

Nighttime is the best for watching the movement in the street. Cars zip in and out of the street and stray animals wander through the yards. Being alone at night usually isn’t a problem. I like to climb the curtains and swing my tail against in the direction of the blinds to watch them spin. Riding the curtains down is in bad taste according to Gregor but the thrill can’t be beaten. I think the small girl is gone... into the kitchen but forget to look as Fluffy has a red bow…

At the top of every hour the clock in the hall chimes this hour it’s ten times as I watch it. There’s a small light on in the entry way as Gregor’s car pulls up around the front. I can’t remember where the small girl went but there’s a twist in the blinds across the room and I know what that means. The nocturnal risings of the rodent of the house are ready to begin. I quickly leave my perch and wander towards the movement. The swing of the door and my pounce are timed. In comes Gregor and I’ve caught a mouse. Proudly I swing this newfound treasure about while Gregor takes off his coat and heads to the bedroom. I drop the mouse and start again.

The mouse proves to be a fun chase. I’ve made progress in killing the creature. Gutting its insides and dragging its lifeless body across the room to show Gregor. I like showing. It’s that feeling of recognition. Look. See what I’ve done when presenting my prize kill...

Gregor’s in the kitchen talking to someone. Someone in this kitchen where there’s been a struggle that leaves me pawing my way through a puddle of blood. It’s not mine and Gregor looks just fine. As my feet clear the wetness I nestle up against a foreign leg and drop my kill to the floor. His red stained hands reach down and pull me up while his blood soaked clothing reveals that he’s working and finishing up. The small girl looks helpless and scared tied to a chair as his blood stained hands continue making their way through my hair. RRRR...This is nice. I like that he’s home now. She is where she ought to be… and with that comfort I’m down across the room trailing the blood in my wake.

There’s something in the window… like a small animal looking in. Two big eyes reflected against the glass are there after I’ve decided to take apart the pillows in the bedroom. With small feathers strewn about all I can think about is how much I want to play with the eyes looking in and dance with the movements. The nights are best for looking out windows and watching.


Cats. A few family and friends of mine have cats. I’ve always been fascinated by these animals and their mannerisms. They’re watchers. Not always action driven, or prone to rise, and sometimes they will watch you and stalk you. My grandfather’s cat stalks. But although they may not always react, never underestimate them. They choose their actions and react with purpose. There's a reason they have nine lives. Cat psychology. Haha. Anyhow, I’ve always thought that cats were a different kind of smart than dogs. What do you think? Ah, but let’s not start the great animal debate. Needless to say this is just a little fun with the idea of a cat watching the scene. Enjoy. kisses. m.

Out the door.

Out the door. Modesto. CA. 2010.

Out the door.

(Voyeur #2)

Out the door. Means different things to people. A lot of things can happen on the outside. You have no idea how much can go on in the inside. But there’s so much more on the outside than meets the naked eye.

Outside my back door there are two overgrown trees a small chair and me resting. From the moment I stepped off that plane it was an image that stuck in my head and all I could think about. Seventeen months and counting backwards from the plane ride, where I’m ready to step in lock the front door and take a rest from the life away from home.

Stepping in and dropping off the old suitcase felt like a weight being yanked clean off my chest. The idea of spending the next thirty days behind closed doors sounded more than inviting to my old bones. Getting to know the layout of my own place once again as I look at the familiar surroundings. TV is where I left it. A nice thick coat of dust covers the screen along with a large happy face etched into the dust. Stack of magazines and newspapers are in the corner where they were when I left. Trigger’s dog dishes are empty but he’ll be coming home in a day from my sister’s place.

The view is still amazing. The back porch balcony overlooks the next door neighbor’s property without any visible obstructions. I can’t help watching their movements while I’m watching the sky. There’s a statue wearing high heels dancing with a chair that has arms for legs moving across the blue skies when a man chasing a woman around the patio furniture with her voice screaming wild accusations. I can’t see his face as he keeps trying to reach out to grab her before shoving her into the table. There’s a quick struggle that she breaks free from with a knee to his crotch. It’s when she darts into the house that I realize that I can see directly into their kitchen. I decide that I need to redesign mine when I see the terracotta colored tiles leading into the dining room adjacent kitchen. She’s hitting him with a piece of dish towel before throwing and connecting with a frying pan up side his head after he follows her inside. Once he recovers the frying pan flies back into her direction and takes her down up connection. Its then I realize that the decorating can wait but my chair between the trees below can not.

My nap proves to be more unmoving that intended. I awake far after civil twilight to darkness and loud sounds of unpleasantness from the couple next door. I try to remember if this is the same happy couple that lived next door seventeen months ago. This is before I get up and look through the fence. The sound of my own breath is heavy as it bounces off the fence. The porch light from the other yard hits me squarely in the eye. I try to remember if I locked the front door while I’m watching the pair run through their house screaming via glimpses in the open window panels. The thought of being caught watching the dueling duo sits at the front of my mind, but I don’t stop.

This time around she’s winning. It’s been twenty-five minutes and I’ve gathered that he’s been caught in a lie or two while away on business. She’s continued to remain visible all through the fight, his whereabouts shift here and there but not consistent. I’m still missing his face as he walks through on occasion to deal a slap to her shrieking face or a push against her swinging hands, but it’s mostly through the shuffles between rooms that I hear the story. And it’s mostly her side of the story. Their fight seems more one-sided than fair as it circles back through the house and outside again. I can’t believe I’m taking sides in the fight when I realize it’s time to head out of it. Up and inside.

After the shower I’m sitting outside the house again. It’s quiet and there’s a blanket of stars out. The city lights can’t even keep out the brilliant colors. It’s right about the moment my eyes visualize a tiny dancer in the sky when I hear it. My eyes can’t focus on the exact direction but it lasts for over a minute. The long lengthy scream echoes into the darkness. It’s when I can hear it but can’t see it that I realize there’s almost no lights on next door but someone’s shadow moving through the house but the lights never come on. The reaction on my insides barely matches the one on my outside. Yet I do nothing but watch.

The colors of dawn illuminate nothing more than the rooftop of the house next door. My eyes focus on the small light of day and realize I’ve fallen asleep outside with my binoculars around my neck when I see the large plastic bags sitting on the back porch across from my view. A bit further back I can see something through open doorway resting upon the terracotta tiles that lead into the adjacent dining room. A large mallet. The kind you might use for removing walls before restoring them. Alongside there’s a large dark spot that has dried in the shape of Italy. The Italian peninsula lays next to a potential murder weapon and my mind questions that reasoning but never stops considering it.

Mid-morning napping is almost essential when you’ve managed to stay up all night watching the next door entertainment. It’s a quarter to ten when I’m awoken to the sound of my doorbell and the barking of Trigger outside of it. After my sister has been kind enough to bring him over we’re taking a brief walk outside of the front of the house. It’s then that I can see the neighbor man dragging out those plastic bags full of the unknown to the edge of the curb. His face is shadowed by a torn ball cap. My eyes wander over and under the plastic bags of potential death and keep looking for a hint of change in his demeanor. There’s no change. Trigger pulls at his leash toward the bags on the curb and begins barking loudly. The neighbor watches us watching him and quickly moves to drag the bags back to his property. Trigger gets louder and becomes more intent on the neighbor. I lean in and hug my sister goodbye and continue yanking the dog back. She tells me to call her later in the week and I nod before slipping back into the house with my persistent dog.

Late afternoon. It’s after 2pm when Trigger has had his lunch and decides to dig in the cool corner of the back yard near the fence. I can’t imagine why he’s over there, but the neighbor man with his hat is entertaining a guest or two. There’s no sign of the woman but from the looks it’s a pair of police officers. They seem to be asking him questions and pointing to the house next door to us. My guess is that I’m not the only one watching. It’s another time that I’m deciding that it best to see what Trigger is up to rather than find out what happened next door. Especially if someone saw more than I then there’s no need to worry. It will all be handled accordingly.

Thirty-five minutes before five o’clock when he’s done it. Trigger unearths a hole that reaches the other side of the fence and he’s found a part of something in the dirt. From the part he’s brought me, it looks like a bone. I can’t tell what kind of bone. It’s rather larger than anything from an animal. I think that I don’t’ remember giving him bones in the past as I fill the hole with dirt. Three feet away on the other side of the fence is my neighbor who is watching me push the dirt back into the hole. I think about saying hello but by the time it becomes an action the man is gone.

Another night beneath the stars except it’s quieter. The neighbor house is still but very well lit. There’s no sign of bags or mallets. But the man in a ball cap crosses the kitchen followed by another woman. It’s then the man moves to reveal an interesting secret. Long hair with a shake of the hat tumbles out. The other woman pours a glass of white wine and the woman now minus the hat pulls out a box from a cabinet in the dining room and unwraps something inside of it. They are admiring an oddly shaped object from within the box when the first woman moves to the kitchen taking the covered object. I can see her move to uncover the object once again before slicing part of it off. A thin sized sliver that resembles part of a finger. They look up and over toward my direction. She looks back at the other woman and then the object before slicing into it again and again while laughing. One by one the fingers, the pieces fall climbing upwards to the top of an arm and I step backwards into the inside of my own. Locking the door behind me. 


A picture that tells nothing about a story and a story that tells nothing about a picture. Yet here they are together. People watching. Ever watch your neighbors? Some are nice, some are quiet, some don't mind company and some are miserable because of it. Interesting interactions nonetheless. And careful, you never know who you are living next door to. Kidding of course. Story is from Voyeur and did warn that they wouldn't all be dirty. Anyhow, the universe tells you to enjoy and you have to listen. Hopefully everyone did listen and had a fabulous weekend. Kisses. Enjoy. m.

Voyeur.

Cause it's MIDNIGHT somewhere!! If I thought the other one was going to earn me an R-Rating… This one will earn me an X-Rating. I went further on this one. Still no language. Trying to keep it clean. This is one that I was going to hold back. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Voyeurism. Are you a watcher or participator? I think a little of both never hurts. I’m not sharing. Anyhow, I have a few others on Voyeurism. A series? I wouldn’t go so far to say that. And they aren’t all DIRTY. Damn! But hopefully they will be appreciated. Enjoy? M.

Voyeur.

Voyeur. People watching. Everyone does it. No one thinks anybody the worse for it. A simple glance over a busy room. Fleeting eyes across the open plaza. A thousand stories revealed to the anonymous bystander. Never been one for snooping on others. No intention of being the uninvited observer in the scene. Tonight I find myself alone at home. Restless. Unable to be entertained with the typical book and glass of Merlot. Pacing across the apartment, I catch the glimpse of light in the open view. An object? No. Movement in the distance that is too far for my eyes to see. Something intriguing that escapes my vision in the building across the way. Quickly I look around for my glasses when it becomes clear, the telescope. Jion sent it over as a housewarming gift three months ago. I’ve been here for nearly a year. Devilish Jion, with his tardy gift. I believe the inscription read, “Don’t worry about who’s watching you, as long as you’re watching back.” He knew I’d never use it. Or did he know curiosity would get the best of me eventually?

Curiously I grasp my new gift for the first time. Fingers gently find a home along the metal shaft. I can feel my eye dilate as it attempts to focus sight through the lens. Night opens up before my view. The buildings that surround are half alive with light and reflections. With a slight push I spin the arm and find my target. Winding down the building floor by floor until I can find it. Along the way there are empty rooms and hallways. Strangers exiting elevators, watching TVs, and making dinners. All going about a normal routine. Once again discovering the peculiar movement, I stop. The golden hue illuminates the room in the building before me. Center of my attention is blurry but familiar. Carefully I lift my hand and move the dial. Click. Click. Click. Aha.

Legs parted as she reclines. Open mouth, as her fingers run along skin, savoring every movement below. Lifting himself upward and pauses before pursuing further. Waiting she trembles, never looking away. Hands rest upon bare breasts then trail down the front of her body as he kneels against the chaise. One leg remains on the ground as he rests slightly above her. She leans back on elbows against the lounge. Down he leans in and kisses her neck. Hands remain downward between her thighs. Every movement sends her head back with an open mouth. Pleasure. Descent continues. Further. His hips drop against hers. Ass rocking inward. Pelvis tilting upward. Legs lifting and falling in a hypnotic rhythm before circling around torso. Sweat dripping down. Faces alive with bliss. Open for view. Open for me. Open to me. Returning my view.

Turn away. Despite my blushing face I can’t look away. Smiling. Caught. Catching the act. His eyes continue to lock onto my position. All the while pursuing his fulfillment. I should stop now. But the show is far from over. The progression continues. She lifts his neck and makes tiny bites below the chin. Tongue crawls along the neck leaving a wet imprint. Hands lift and fall with frenzied intent. Gripping outer thighs. Tugging at waistline. Rocking hips. Eyes are open and caught up. Wet lips meeting to consume and falling away to devour at flesh. Heads move back and forth with the sheer involvement of the arrangement. Bodies pull and tug for more. Arms tearing into each other grasping for more. Faster. Deeper. Movements climb toward a purpose. Quietly the act of passion declines. A final embrace quakes in unison. Smoothly he lifts himself upward. Standing over her open legs he smiles with sheer satisfaction. Her hands reach up and caress his torso while he turns and edges towards the window. Sliding onto her side she connects with my stare now. Fingers circling her bare skin while she calmly watches him look at me. Boldly revealing himself, he leans in and nudges at the glass with a hand. Inviting.

Telescope. High rise. Watching a couple across the way.  Man. Woman. Nude. Amidst an act of passion. Scandalous. Anonymously viewing. Unsolicited spectator. Trespassing eyes. What a night. As the elevator shimmies along I shake the rain from my hair. Wring the excess water from my stockings. Adjust the front of my coat. Cover my bare skin. Watch the numbers as the floor by floor trek continues. Mind still wandering. Hands playing with bare skin. Wet places explored. Smooth lips. Warm mouths. Licking. Flitting. Thrusting fingers. Legs lifting. Arms circling. Collapsing bodies. Golden light coloring in floor. The view of my high-rise in the distance… So inviting.