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From: "Ray" <ray1031@cac.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} [rom fest]  Movements - It Will Be a Summer to Remember,  Ray1031
Date: Fri, 21 Jun 2002 01:10:03 -0400
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(ROM Fest) Movements - It Will be a Summer to Remember - Ray1031
(Rom. Voy, No Sex)


The following story contains scenes and descriptions of a sexual
and erotic nature. If you are not of legal age or moral disposition
to read such stories, or it is illegal to possess or read such
stories where you are . . . then please leave.

For all others, I hope you enjoy my posting. Comments and
criticisms are welcome . . . except from religious fanatics . . .
sorry, but I don't need people telling me I'll burn in hell if
my personal beliefs are not the same as theirs.

Thanks for your consideration.




Movements - It Will be A Summer to Remember
by Ray 1031  (Rom, Voy, No Sex)


He was sitting in the dark, sweltering in the early June heat. His
armchair strategically placed before his large picture window to
observe the house next door. Angie was moving gracefully about her
living room as he listened to a light cello jazz solo on his stereo.
The string music seemed to make the perfect counterpoint as his
neighbor replaced a book she'd been reading on her bookshelf.
Examining the shelf more closely she left the room for a moment;
returning shortly with a rag she began dusting most of the surfaces
in the room as he watched.

He knew all of the labels people might apply to what he was doing.
All of the terms by which they would refer to him, voyeur, Peeping
Tom, stalker and because of the age difference, Dirty Old Man and
pervert. None of that mattered to him. He loved Angie. He had loved
her for over five years now. He had loved her since shortly after she
and her then husband, Mort, had moved into the house next door.

Mort was gone now. She'd thrown his useless ass out months ago and
was now simply waiting for sufficient time to pass for the divorce to
be final. Both homes had swimming pools in the back yard. He'd met
her when she'd called the local pool service company to find a leak
in her liner and patch it. They were there only an hour. He'd talked
to her over the fence after, asking about the problem and found they
had charged her almost $200.00 for the repair. There were only two
pool companies in the county, and both were owned by bandits. He made
her promise to call him first if she had another problem. He'd heard
his first fight between she and her husband that night.

In the last five years he'd helped with problems around their home
many times. He'd been to parties and barbecues over there and had
them over to his place. But only because of her; Mort was an asshole,
through and through. From the top of his already bald head to the
tips of his hairy toes the man was all ass. He used to ask himself
how she could ever have chosen a person like Mort, until she finally
tossed him out on his ass. Now he truly wished he was twelve years
younger and in better shape.

Angie had finished dusting and moved out of view to the left. Coming
once more into view she left the room turning out the light as she
left.

He rose then, lifting his sweating can and taking his beer with him as he
paused at the stereo and turned it off.  Remembering how he'd never liked
this type of music until he'd seen her shadow dancing to it on her home's
rear patio.  Since then, he'd developed a taste for it from repeated
listenings, her lithe form dancing before his mind's eye each time he heard
it.  

Climbing the stairs he wondered for the millionth time if he should
really make an approach, ask her out for dinner and a drink. He'd
swear that in some of their recent conversations she'd left him
openings for an approach. But he'd never been good at the dating
thing, had never been able to really see opportunities until they
were past. He'd made mistakes in this area too, thinking he'd seen
something that wasn't there. His heart had been broken many times
over the years and he was afraid of going through that pain again. He
was more afraid of losing her as a friend, of driving her away and
making her afraid of him. That pain would be even worse.

Upstairs, he opened the door to his office and, without turning on
the lights, rolled the chair from his desk over near the window,
opposite the window of her bedroom. He was seating himself when her
bedroom light came on and he felt his stomach drop through the floor.
Her curtains, over the broad sliding bedroom windows, which had
remained open for the last month, were closed. He couldn't see.
Crestfallen, he simply sat staring when suddenly the curtains opened
and Angie was there. She leaned forward and slid open the window
before turning back into the room. At the foot of her bed she crossed
her hands across her waist and in one elegant move raised the hem of
her sweater over her head and removed it. Her lacy white bra was a
half-cup, pushing her breast up and together, creating a lovely
cleavage between the pale creamy mounds. He swallowed and felt
himself going hollow inside, once again, at her beauty.

He knew that he had to get his nerve up soon. He had to make a move
of some kind if only to know, if only to end the heartache he felt
whenever he saw or thought of her. If he didn't, someone else would
snatch her up and any opportunity he might have had would be gone.
But he was a coward in matters of the heart: afraid to trust once
again. It was simply so much easier to coast along and let be
what will be. Of course, he knew that what would likely be was
continued loneliness unless he did something, anything. He had to
decide ...

Angie was releasing the catch on her skirt as he watched and allowed
it to slide down her legs. Stepping from it, she folded it once and
smoothed some wrinkles with her hand before dropping the garment
over the back of a chair. Dressed now in half-slip and bra Angie
reached up and with deft moves unpinned her hair where it was piled
neatly atop her head. She had always seemed to wear it up and it
suited her. Revealing the long graceful curve of her neck, it gave
her a statuesque quality lending a light regality to the air about
her. Once free, her dark hair fell in waves, brushing her cheekbones
and cascading over her shoulders until the slightly curled ends
rested atop the mounds of her breasts. Running her fingers lightly
through the thick tresses, Angie shook her head and the unruly mass
seemed more ordered in how it lay.

She was standing sideways to his view as she raised her slip and
reached beneath to slide her hose down her legs. Those long tapers of
silk he had seen so rarely in the last five years, but had seen more
frequently in the last two months since he'd begun his vigils. He
decided he had graduated. He was now officially a dirty old man,
since gazing at her in this fashion always made him hungry. Hungry
for the touch of her, the feel of her and, yes, even the taste of
her.

Angie moved to the bathroom door and entered there, hose in hand,
returning momentarily and moving to her dressing table where she
began removing her makeup. He took a sip of his beer as he watched,
finding the can empty. Looking at it he was surprised, he didn't
remember taking the last sip. He sat patiently, watching as her hands
moved smoothly to jars of creams and tissues as she cleaned then
moisturized her face. Steam was showing through her bathroom door as
she finished and quickly moved into the little room, closing the door
behind her.

Moving then, he left the room and went down to the kitchen for a
fresh beer. The small light inside the refrigerator hurt his eyes
and momentarily blinded him when he opened the door. Deciding that
he truly was hungry, he removed a Swanson meal from the freezer and
put it in the oven, setting the temperature and checking the time
before he left the room. He would eat after Angie had gone to bed.
Climbing the stairs once more, he was soon back in his chair and
patiently waiting for another view of the woman he loved.

When she emerged Angie was dressed in a long yellow robe, a towel
wrapped her head. The heavy material of the robe was all concealing,
but he wasn't concerned about that. In whatever she wore or did not
wear, just the sight of her caused his heart to beat faster. He
watched as she sat once again at her dressing table and took a hair
dryer from the drawer. Loosing the towel, she rubbed at her hair,
drying it as much as possible as she turned her head this way and
that, side to side and back with the movements of the towel in her
hands. He unconsciously licked his lips as she took up a brush and
the hot air blower, beginning to brush out her hair in the heated
breeze the little machine created. As he watched Angie's hair took on
a fullness and sheen with her efforts, poofing out to the sides and
framing her beautiful face in exquisite perfection as he gazed on. He
wished he was standing close beside her so he could look deeply into
those beautiful emerald eyes and watch her full lips purse as she
worked on her hair. Those lips puckering into a perfect kissing
position as she worked the brush rhythmically through her raven
locks. Wished he dared to reach out and gently touch those wide
cheekbones and trace her arching brows with his fingertips. He found
his lips dry and licked them wet again before taking a sip from the
already sweating beer can.

Done, Angie stood and faced the window directly. Loosing the tie at
her waist, she allowed the robe to fall back from her shoulders and
slip to the floor about her feet. She was now standing naked before
his eyes. This had become a normal part of her routine in only the
last couple of weeks and each time he saw it he wondered if she knew
that he watched. Wondered if the moves were intended just for him. He
liked to think that they were, but the thought that she knew he was
sitting here in the dark and watching her was a terrifying one. What
must she think of him for doing such a thing. He hoped she didn't
know. Yet, if she didn't know, why would she face the window, his
window, when she did this? Was she simply hoping he would be watching
one day rather than knowing that he was? Even if he finally worked up
the nerve to approach her directly, he would never know, for this was
a question he could never ask her. She stretched then, something new.
A long, limb straining stretch such as that of a cat who has slept
too long in the sun. A satisfying back arching stretch that elongated
her waist and caused her already high breasts to slide even higher on
her chest, stand even more proudly from her body. It raised her onto
her toes for, though he couldn't see her tiny feet, he could tell
when her thighs and calves seemed to lengthen and become trimmer.

Angie stretched for long and long moments and for many of those
moments his heart simply forgot to beat. Relaxing from her stretch,
she moved to the bed and laid back the covers. Moving slowly it
seemed, she moved to the switch by the door and paused, glancing once
more towards the window before turning off the switch and hiding her
from his view. After a moment he stood and moved to exit the room,
heading for the kitchen and the prepackaged dinner that awaited him.
Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow he'd finally decide what he should do.


Standing in the center of her room, halfway to the bed, Angie lightly
pinched her rising nipples as she gazed across the distance separating her
house from Timothy's.  She believed he had been watching again from his
office window and as she watched she believed she saw the slightest of
ghostly movements in the room beyond.  Sliding her hands slowly down her
sides and her hips she sighed once before moving towards her bed and her
dreams of longing.  

"I wish he'd make a move," she said softly, raising the covers and
slipping into bed. "I think I'll call Friday regardless and offer him
a home cooked meal." Her face held a gentle smile as sleep took her.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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