I first spotted Lacy working late one night on a dispute over land rights. My client had built a $200 million high-rise luxury condo project exactly two feet over the legal setback. Dumbasses. Now they were going to pay me so much in legal fees, I might be able to upgrade my boat. But this story isn’t about lawsuits. It’s about Lacy. 

Her apartment was almost directly across from my office. Between our buildings was a park, putting us one narrow block away from each other. On this particular night, it was late and I happened to see her sitting in her window, shirtless, enjoying the cool evening and the sounds of the city. A glass of white wine in her hand. She looked lovely, with one foot propped in the open window. Relaxed. Friendly. Open. 

She didn’t see me that night, but I couldn’t get her out of my head. I started to fantasize about her. I brought a pair of binoculars to work, hid them in my desk, and started to look for reasons to work late. 

I also named her. Lacy was an obvious choice because of her habit of sitting in that window, sipping wine, in a lacy black bra that barely covered the lower half of her luscious tits. I watched her for three days before I started jerking off. Then it was binoculars and fapping every night for a week. 

But then, one night, Lacy surprised me. Instead of sitting in the window with a glass of wine, she was sitting in the window with a pair of binoculars of her own, looking right back at me. She was still shirtless, still wearing a lacy black bra. When we locked binocular eyes on each other, she waved. I startled and dropped the binoculars. I tried to act casual as if I hadn’t just been caught peeping at a beautiful, half undressed woman. Luckily, I hadn’t pulled my cock out yet. 

She only saw me in my suit, scanning with field glasses, I told myself. If she filed a police complaint, I could come up with a good explanation for why I had binoculars in my office. Parade watching? Sniper spotting? I would have to keep thinking on that. I turned back to my computer and tried not to think about it.

That lasted all of about five minutes. It was too exciting. Too sexy and anonymous. If she was onto me, why not put on a shirt? How had she spotted me with my office lights out? And had I seen the corner of a smile on her lips below those lenses? I grabbed mine and turned for a look, but she was gone. Her light turned out. 

The next night, we saw each other again, both of us looking through binoculars. But this time, the black lacy bra was gone. She stood in her window topless, a little farther back so as not to attract eyes from the street, watching me through the glasses. Her tits were magnificent. Curvy and round, perched proudly atop a tanned, toned torso. She waved. This time, I waved back. 

But then we were kind of stuck. We had made contact, but what next? Did she want anything else? Did I? Was it enough to check in on my topless, anonymous friend across the street now and again without ever knowing her real name? I left the office that night excited but confused. 

That night, I dreamed of Lacy. I dreamed that I was trying to talk to her, asking her name, but she couldn’t hear me. Then I woke up with a start, a boner, and an idea. 

On the way to work, I bought some poster board and markers. As I carried them through the cubicles on the way to my corner office, I told my coworkers they were for my nephew’s scout project. After everyone had gone home, I got them out and wrote a message. I positioned a small light in my window so that she could read it. It said, “I’m Rick.” 

When she read it, she smiled and retreated into her apartment. She returned with her own poster material, and we sent the following messages: 

Lacy: “Hi Rick. I’m topless.” [Smiley face]

Me: “Bottoms?” 

Lacy put down her binoculars and backed up a step so that I could see below her waist. She had narrow hips and beautiful, lean legs. She wore a pair of bright, flouncy pajama shorts. She put her hands on the top of her shorts, twisted in a little dance, and lowered the shorts to the floor. 

I felt my heavy hose pushing into the leg of my suit pants. I adjusted and wrote another message. 

Me: “Pose.” 

Lacy made a slow turn to give me a look at every side of her. Her ass was a tight oval of curvy muscle. Her hair fell down to the middle of her back in loose, cinnamon-colored waves. Her narrow waist formed an appealing half-moon. And her pussy, I saw once she propped one foot onto a chair, was shaved, pink, and pouty. 

Me: “Penetrate yourself.” 

Lacy disappeared for a moment and returned with a little purple stick. She propped up the leg again and started to rub it against the top of her folds. As dildos go, it was a small one, which gave me a rush of vain desire. 

The purple disappeared into her pink and few times while she rubbed her own nipples. Then she pulled it out and licked it. I felt a shock of energy. While I was trying to catch my breath again, she disappeared for a moment and then reappeared with a poster covering all the parts of her body I had just been admiring. 

Lacy: “Your turn.” 

I undressed. After watching her smooth, feline movements, mine felt clumsy and not at all attractive. When I finished, I stood stark naked in front of my office window, my dick pointing at the moonless sky outside, barely conscious that someone else might also spot me there. This connection with lacy was worth it. 

Lacy: “Jack off.” 

I did so, holding my binoculars in one hand and my erection in the other, I stroked slowly. Lacy posed and teased her own body, making me harder and harder. She grabbed the dildo and fucked herself with it, all while watching me through her glasses. 

Lacy: “Faster.” 

I obeyed. The feeling this experience gave me was somewhere between the lonely purposefulness of porn and the immediate intimacy of sex. Lacy was both gorgeous and unreal. Connected to me but unattainable. It was sexy as hell but also frustrating as shit. 

Lacy: “Come.” 

That sent me through the roof. I could feel the orgasm coming. I set down the glasses, stood up from my office chair, and sprayed jizz all over the window in front of me. 

When I had finished, I picked up the binoculars again, but Lacy was gone. 

The next night, Lacy was back. This time she wore a thin, black teddy. She had one sign — the same one she had last night — which she held up in front of that impressive body: “Come.” 

She dropped the sign giving me another view and winked. I started to unzip my pants when I saw her shaking her head. She lifted the sign again: “Come.” And I realized that was not a command to masturbate, but an invitation to fuck. I grabbed a marker. 

Me: “Apt. Number?” 

Lacy: “Come.” With a wink, she disappeared. 

I counted up from the street. She was on the sixteenth floor, same as me. And her window was the fourth from the corner. I dashed across the street into her building. Then turned around and dashed out, down to the corner where an old man was selling flowers. Overpaid for a rose. Then dashed back in. Found the elevator. Sixteenth floor. Hallway. Counting doors: one, two, three, four. I knocked playfully. “Shave-and-a-haircut.” 

A short, fat, wrinkled woman answered with a cigarette in her mouth and curlers in her hair. She also wore bed clothes but they were not appealing. 

“I— Uh— I’m sorry. I’m looking for— for Lacy?” 

She coughed, “Who?” 

“Sorry, I— That may not be her name. Isn’t, actually, that isn’t her name. But she lives in this apartment? Petite brunette? Very pretty? Perhaps your, um, daughter? Or niece?” 

“I live alone,” the old lady frowned. She started to close the door. Then opened it again, took the flower from my hand, and spat, “Pervert!” Then she slammed it loudly. 

I was shocked. Drooping with disappointment, I looked down the hallway and tried to figure where I had gone wrong. Then I heard a giggle. 

Turning, I saw Lacy in the next doorway over, still in the black teddy, smiling at me. I had the impression I was being mocked and lusted for at the same time. Her smile was somehow both playfully teasing and deadly, hot-as-hell serious. 

“I counted wrong,” I said, forcing myself to make eye contact and not simply ogle her tantalizing body. “Let me guess, the corner apartment has two windows?” 

“Yep,” she said, popping the “p” with full, pink lips. Her cheeks were flush. Her hazel eyes were bright and hopeful. Her eyebrows arched a little. Was it judgement? Anticipation? “But Mrs. Browning is really sweet if you give her a chance. And flowers. If you’d rather visit her, I can just—“ 

I closed the distance between us in a rush and interrupted her with a kiss. I pressed her against the door frame and drunk in her luxurious smell, the feel of her plush body, her parted lips against mine. 

She pushed me into the room, closed the door and twirled to face me, throwing out a halo of silken hair and shooting me a look of wanton desire. She had my clothes off in no time and we fell onto the bed, exploring each other’s bodies with open mouths, wide eyes, and pleasant moans of appreciation. 

She pulled at my nut sack while she sucked my rigid shaft. Her dimpled mouth and pleading eyes looked enchanting. 

I wanted to return the favor but when I started to shift positions, she pounced on me like a tiger. Ravenous. About to make her kill. She was more than ready for me and I slid easily into her tiny cunt. She threw back her head and shrieked. I put my hands on her hips and thrust into her again. 

“Oh!” She moaned. “You feel so much better than my dildo.” 

“You feel so much better than my hand.” 

“How many times did you jerk off to me before I caught you?” She asked, bouncing breathlessly on my cock. 

“Seven or eight.” 

She moaned. “That makes me feel sexy.” 

“You are so damn sexy, Lacy,” I said. 

She opened her eyes, but kept grinding on my dick. 

“Lacy?” 

“Sorry. I named you Lacy because of that lacy bra you have. I don’t— What’s your real—“ 

“Shut up and fuck me, Rick,” she said and put her hands on my chest so she could twerk hard against my member. She came like that, her clit rubbing against my firm abdomen, her hands clutching at my chest, her eyes rolling back in her beautiful head. She shrieked and shook and yelled, “Ooohhh fuuuck yeeesss!” Until she collapsed on top of me, panting. 

I let her recover for a few minutes and then whispered, “That was so hot.” 

She smiled at me and moved her lips to my ear. She whispered, “I wanted you so bad. Now, tell me what you like.” 

I flipped her over and fucked her from behind. She pushed her beautiful ass into the air and I drilled myself between her pussy lips while her tight cheeks bounced. 

Then I flipped her over again and stood next to the bed, spreading her legs by the ankles. Her body looked fantastic, smooth and open. My rod stood erect, hovering over her torso. 

“Put it back!” she said, half teasing and half begging. “Put that big thing back in me!” 

I penetrated her, watching my pole disappear into her lovely shape, sliding into her slippery body smoothly until my balls slapped against her ass. I pumped faster, watching her tits bounce in excited little circles, holding her ankles as far apart as I could reach. 

When I started to come, she reached for me, pulling her snatch off my rod and grabbing it with her hand. “Come on my tits! I want your come on me! I want to taste—“ 

My first spurt splashed across her chin and she smiled. The second spurt doused her lovely face. The third, fourth, and fifth gushed onto her plump tits. I came a long time while she stroked me lovingly, watching the shower of spunk on her body. 

She sucked the last drops from my rod and then started to rub my softening dick around in the puddles I had left. I stood over her, panting and watching her gorgeous body move under a sheen of my semen. I collapsed next to her. 

“So what’s your name anyway?” I asked. 

“Lacy,” she said.