My next door neighbour Azrael had a problem with clothes.
He never walked around with much on. I would see him strutting about with only silk boxers on, while talking on the phone by the balcony, and sometimes with a towel around his lean hips after a shower, water dripping down his chest down over the planes of his torso to disappear into the towel.
Did she realise that her bedroom window faced my balcony and she had a habit of not closing the blinds when she got home? Every night she would switch on the light when she arrived home and after depositing her handbag in its compartment, then she would start undressing.
It was as if she was performing a private show for a lover or something. Unbuttoning her blazer one button by one, she slid it off her shoulders slowly the satin inside caressing her exposed arms. Her white top followed, already gaping top to the third button showing off those perky mounds that would fit a mans’ hand perfectly as his thumb lightly brushed the pouting tip. She shimmied out of it in a seductive sway of her torso that had my stance widening to accommodate attentive nether parts.
She had on a lacy bra that cupped her breasts firmly but showed off their tempting delicacy. Moving her hands back to pull the skirt zipper down, made her chest moved up and I felt my breathing quicken. Her right hand moved the zipper down her derrière like a slow caress.
The skirt dropped to the floor lightly touching her no doubt warm long shapely legs. Her hands moved to her chest and moved a little at the middle. Her bra had a front clasp, how convenient would it be if were in the room together now.
I watched the straps slither down her arms and the she moved towards the bathroom, the light touching her skin with a golden glow that made her beauty seem impossible to possess. I saw a wisp of black fall before a white fluffy towel covered her beauty.