An apprecative audience

William edged his head around the door to the bathroom a sneaked a peak at the house that backed on to his. His tongue quivered in anticipation – it was showtime. There she was, the lovely lady sitting at her desk facing directly into his bathroom. William took a moment to gaze upon his muse, sat in front of her laptop clicking away the mouse, as if that’s what she really was up to.

He returned to his dark bedroom and dropped to the floor behind the bed to perform a quick serious of exercises - pushups, crunches, and squats, anything to get the blood flowing and plump up his muscles a touch. Once this was done he left the bedroom, walked down the stairs to calm himself a little and then returned to the bedroom.

This time he switched on the light. Slowly, so carefully, like Al Capone filling out his tax return, he unbuttoned his shirt. He folded it and laid it on the bed. He removed his shoes and set them down neatly together. He removed his socks and rolled them up. He paused for a moment, his back to the naked window. He shuffled a pace or two to his left to line up the mirror on his bedside table, and there she was, framed inside the circle of glass, his willing audience staring straight into his bedroom window.

Off with the belt, loop by loop. He sucked in to shrink his paunch from hot air balloon to down to dad bod and popped the top button of his trousers. The feel of the zip sliding over the tight bulge inside his underpants made his legs feel weak. He teased her for a while, standing there bare assed and proud, and still she remained at the window, framed inside that circle of mirror.

For today’s show he used copious amounts of baby oil, slathering his one hundred and eighty-five pounds of grade A manflesh into a slippery sheen before kneeling bolt upright on his bed, his penis pointed proudly at the bedroom window for the money shot.

And always followed the shame.

William rolled from his bed and went into his bathroom without once looking out of his window across to the audience beyond, to his muse who was still staring, staring so hard.

And now, for the breakdown – here it is. What William didn’t know was that she was a blind woman, and what he had taken to be a tendency towards voyeurism was simply the rapt face of someone using a screen reader and a braille keyboard. And here was something else that William did not know – thanks to the full-length mirror that he had bought but decided it might be too overbearing in his live shows, and thanks to a similar full-length mirror two doors along from his blind muse, he was now the star of Mrs Grange’s young man virility dance shows, daily at three, tell your friends, and bring sherry.