The Man In The Window

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Amateur

Nick sat admiring the early morning sunshine slanting across the meadows behind his thatched cottage. He had moved to rural Shropshire the year before, shaking off the dust and grime of London after the break-up of a long-term relationship. Financially, he was now just holding his head above water as a computer consultant and part-time lecturer. When bemused friends queried his strange retreat from urban civilisation he’d reply: “It’s just like living in 1987!”.As he sipped the last dregs of his breakfast coffee, the mobile phone on the table rang.”Nick? It’s Tina. How are you getting on up there in the sticks?””Hi Tina! Just fine. I love it.””I’ll cut straight to the chase ’cause I’ve gotta get into the office. Would you do me a great favour, darling?””Ask away.””My boss has been invited to speak at a big business conference in Geneva at the end of next week. And he wants me to go with him! All expenses paid, 5-star hotel, the lot. I really don’t want to miss the chance as I’ve never been to Switzerland.””The land of cuckoo clocks and cow bells.””Rural life hasn’t erased your cynicism then?””S’pose not. But where do I come in?””Well sweetie…..I’m worried about leaving this apartment empty for four days. We’ve had a spate of break-ins lately and the local police have been warning residents about not emptying their isvecbahis mail boxes in the lobby. Apparently that’s how local kids know a place is unoccupied. So I was wondering: how would you like to spend a few days in London and ‘apartment sit’ for me?”He hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, ok. I suppose so. Give me the dates and I’ll see if I can fit my work schedule around them.”As he pencilled the dates into his Filofax, Nick pondered on just how much time Tina would be spending in the Geneva conference hall, and how much time she’d be in bed with her boss.”How will you get the keys of your apartment to me?””There’s a little trattoria next door – you’ve got my address haven’t you? It’s called Luigi’s. Ask for Luigi and show him some id and he’ll let you have the key – it opens the main door into the lobby and to my apartment. I’ll leave the fridge well stocked, so you won’t need to shop for groceries. I’ll be back late on Sunday evening. Shall I bring you a cow bell?””Geneva gin would be prefereable.””You’re an angel! Must fly, sweetie: I’m already running late. Thanks a million.”A week later, after some complicated juggling of work commitments, Nick was on an express train travelling south to London, arriving mid-afternoon at Euston Station. The sidewalks seemed cleaner and even the office workers heading home looked isveçbahis giriş less world-weary. He rode across the metropolis on the subway and had no trouble in locating Tina’s impressive apartment block in one of the cobbled backstreets behind Tower Bridge and the Tower of London. After collecting the key from Luigi he rode up in the elevator to the sixth floor.Tina’s apartment was small, with only one bedroom and a kitchen zone set in the corner of an open-planned living space. But the most impressive feature was the sheer glass wall which ran the full width of the interior, giving a floor-to-celing panorama of rooftop London. He dropped his overnight case and approached the view. It faced south and the afternoon sunshine was still flooding in. He noticed thast the rear facade of the whole building was a huge inward-facing curve, so that it was possible to see into the windows of neighbouring apartments.Tina had left a ‘thank-you’ note propped against a bottle of champagne on the kitchen worktop. Nick decided he’d open it there and then, stepping back to the picture window with his drink to study the intricate street pattern below him: the tiny Lowry-like scurring figures, the lines of cars stuck nose-to-tail in the evening rush hour traffic jams and, in the distance like a child’s railway set, the Docklands isveçbahis yeni giriş Light Railway running above the rooftops into the Canary Wharf business quarter.After a snack supper from Tina’s fridge and a couple of hours viewing highlights from the day’s top English cricket games, he turned in for an early night.He woke at dawn and it took him several minutes to realise that he wasn’t in his country cottage. Daylight was streaming in through the giant window. Rumaging through his ex-fiancee’s wardrobe, he found a long white towelling bath robe and slipped it on. Then after fixing himself a strong coffee he ambled across to the window. The view was very different this morning, now swathed in an amber glow. But still the frenetic energy of a 24-hour city.As he took a sip from his coffee mug he was distracted by a movement away to his left. Standing in the window of an adjoining apartment one floor level below him was a naked man. A very handsome and well-built naked man. Broad shoulders, trim physique, dark hair style and a beautiful bronzed body, without ‘bikini marks’ across his taught tummy. Legs akimbo, he looked straight ahead, gently stroking a large semi-erect cock. Nick stared incredulously, admiring the guy’s bravado. He pulled his bath robe open and reached for his own cock, which was already becoming enlarged. He began stroking it, as if to keep company with the stranger.The bronzed figure then slowly turned his head, almost as if sensing that Nick was not only watching but wanking and made slow penetrating eye contact.

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