The phone on my nightstand emitted a shrill ring, and I swore under my breath while fumbling to answer it. For the fourth time this week, I'd been woken by someone calling just before midnight. As I now sat up in bed, holding the phone to my ear, I wanted to let out a string of curses. But I told myself it might be a friend or family member alerting me to an emergency of some kind. "Hello!" I barked in greeting, my voice still thick with sleep.

In response, I heard heavy breathing, and I knew it was the same person who'd called me before. With the faint gleam of a nightlight serving as my only illumination, I left the bed and walked over to the window. The phone cord stretched taut behind me. Parting the narrow blinds, I peered at the house across the street. It was a split-level, and while the windows on the upper floor were all dark, I saw a sliver of light between the drawn curtains of a room I figured was the den downstairs. An involuntary shiver went through me.

All the while, the sound of breathing continued on the other end of the line. "Why are you doing this?" I demanded. Of course, I didn't really expect an answer, but at least I could give voice to my anger. As I kept my stare fixed on that window, my suspicions only grew. Before I could stop myself, I said, "I know who you are."

Now, I heard nothing whatsoever, and the silence was deafening in its own way. I grinned at the knowledge that I'd caught my caller off guard. He was holding his breath, waiting for me to go on.

But what if my guess was wrong? And even if it wasn't, I knew I should simply slam down the phone. What good could possibly come from this one-sided conversation?

Gripping the phone even tighter, I thought back to Monday. On my way home from work that afternoon, I'd stopped at the store. Once I arrived at my house, I hoisted the grocery bag from the passenger seat, along with my purse. While heading toward my front door, I'd glanced at the house across the street, the same house I was now studying from the darkness of my bedroom. My neighbor, Myles, had just gotten out of his car. Our eyes met, and he called out a friendly greeting. When I attempted to wave in response, the grocery bag slipped from my arms. I managed not to drop it, but the bag tore in my clumsy grip, spilling out a can of green beans. I watched helplessly as it began rolling down the short driveway.

"I've got it!" Myles jogged over to grab the can before striding toward me. He was wearing a suit, having just left the office, and the breeze ruffled his dark hair. Flashing an easy smile, he offered me the can. "Here you go, Colleen."

"Thanks so much," I said through my own grateful smile. "I'm apparently trying to carry too many things at once."

"Want me to unlock the door for you?"

Not for the first time, I noticed his eyes were a lovely hazel color. At this time of day, he was sporting a five-o'clock shadow, and I was struck by the sudden, crazy urge to caress his cheek. Instead, I took a step back from him. "Oh, I can manage. I appreciate it, though." As I spoke, I busied myself with selecting the right key on the ring I held in my free hand. I certainly didn't make a habit of admiring married men, but Myles had a sex appeal that was difficult to overlook.

"I imagine it's tough at times," he said in a quiet voice, "living alone."

Something about his tone made me blush. Yet I simply shrugged and said, "It has its pros and cons, like everything else."

"I wouldn't know. Dana and I got married right out of college."

I tried not to grimace at the mention of his wife. When they'd moved into the house across the street earlier that year, I'd dutifully taken over a housewarming gift and welcomed them to the neighborhood. Myles was friendly and easy to talk to, but Dana had a snootiness about her that instantly put me off. Her beauty was like that of a snowy landscape: breathtaking and icy cold. With her dark curls and large blue eyes, she reminded me of one of the porcelain dolls my mother collected. If she happened to see me out in my yard on a weekend, she made no attempt to hide her disdain while looking me up and down. Since it was summer, I usually wore a halter top and shorts, but judging by her glare, I might as well have been naked.

Myles and Dana both worked full-time, just as I did. I guessed they were around thirty, and though I was only five years younger, it felt like we belonged to different generations. They probably wondered how I was able to afford living by myself. The truth was, I rented the house from my parents. We'd lived in it until I was a teenager, and after we moved to a different neighborhood, my folks kept it as a rental property. The place was vacant by the time I was looking to move out on my own a few years ago. It was only because they let me rent it for dirt cheap that I wasn't currently stuck in an apartment with a roommate.

As Myles and I chatted in my driveway that Monday, I felt a little flustered by the way he focused all of his attention on me. I caught him sneaking a look at my breasts when I leaned to place the grocery bag next to my feet. His furtive glance took me by surprise, for I never would have guessed I was his type. With my small tits and narrow hips, I was the opposite of Dana, who had a curvy figure.

During our brief conversation, I reminded myself not to hold his stare for too long; I didn't want to appear overly interested. Instead of gazing into his eyes, I studied his prominent Adam's apple. Then, we wished each other a good evening, and he picked up my bag for me. I thanked him again before going inside.

That night, the calls started.

Of course, I'd gotten prank calls in the past, along with a few obscene ones. During that time in the late 1970s, there was no way to trace a call without getting the police involved. When the ringing phone woke me up late Monday night, I listened to the heavy breathing on the line for several seconds. Then, I simply hung up and went back to sleep.

It happened again on Wednesday night. Pressing the receiver to my ear, I heard that same unnerving sound. It was undeniably sexual. "Go to hell!" I growled before slamming down the phone.

I saw Myles again on Thursday. He was putting out the trash for pickup the following morning, and when our eyes locked, I paused to say hello. I hadn't expected him to stroll toward me. We made our usual small talk for a few minutes. Then he said, "You look a little tired, Colleen. Long week?"

I grew self-conscious under his scrutiny. Out of nervous habit, I tucked a strand of blonde hair behind my ear. Almost shoulder-length, it framed my face along with my short bangs. "I've been getting weird calls," I revealed. "It's obviously a man. He just stays on the line and... breathes."

"Is that right?" Myles appeared to carefully consider my words. "He doesn't say anything dirty?"

My cheeks reddened at his question. "No. I mean, he hasn't yet."

He rubbed his chin while regarding me. "Well, I tend to stay up quite late most nights. If it would make you feel better, I'll be happy to keep a closer eye on your place."

"Oh, that's not necessary," I quickly replied. "I'm sure it's just some prank caller who will eventually get tired of being an asshole."

Myles tilted his head slightly. A hint of a smile played on his full lips. "I don't know, Colleen. Men can be very persistent."

My eyes widened a little, for it was then that I first suspected my neighbor of being the anonymous caller. I'd never had reason to give him my number, but it was in the phone book along with almost everyone else's. It cost extra to have an unlisted number.

Later that night, I received two calls, one right after the other. It seemed as if the man was determined to make a point. He was certainly proving to be persistent.

Now, it was late Saturday night, just minutes from Sunday morning. Maybe it was nervous exhaustion that made me reckless, or maybe my best friend was right when she recently told me I needed to get laid. Perhaps it was both anxiety and horniness, combined with my secret attraction to Myles. But in my dark bedroom, with the phone pressed to my ear, I grew dangerously bold.

"Oh yes, I know who you are," I said in a low voice. "And now I want to know if you're man enough to do something more than jerk off while calling me late at night." His gasp was clearly audible. "Wouldn't take much effort on your part," I continued as I made my way back to the bed. "After all, you're just across the street." Again, I encountered utter silence, but I sensed he was listening closely. Just before hanging up the phone, I murmured, "I'll leave the window open for you."

Cupping a hand over my mouth, I stared down at the phone like it was a terrifying weapon. What had I just done? What if I was wrong, and the caller wasn't Myles? If a stranger had simply dialed my number at random, he wouldn't have my address. But what if some psycho was stalking me? Serial killers had been all over the news for much of the past decade. Was I so fucking stupid that I'd actually taunted one into showing up here?

And what if it was Myles? Did I really want my married neighbor sneaking into my room in the middle of the night?

I told myself I absolutely did not want that, but my damp panties made a lie of my denials.

If I was willing to face the truth, I'd see that I had wanted Myles since we first met. My pride, along with a sense of decency, had prevented me from admitting my desire, even to myself.

Until now.

Under the sway of that fierce desire, I went to the window facing the side yard. My hands were shaking as I unlocked and opened it. The din from what sounded like a million chirping crickets drifted into the room.

Finally, I climbed back into bed. Beneath the thin sheet, I shivered as if I was freezing.

And I waited.

I tried to assure myself that he wouldn't show up. He'd had his fun with the phone calls, but he wouldn't dare come over here.

After a half hour passed, I began to relax a little. I even grinned while recalling what I'd said to Myles on the phone. It would certainly be awkward when we saw each other again!

It was going on one in the morning when my eyelids grew heavy. I lay on my back, with my face turned toward the window. I'd been staring at it for what felt like an eternity, but I decided it was now time to end my vigil.

The night had other plans for me, however. Before I could close my eyes, I heard someone just outside. Terror flooded my insides like ice water, and when I saw a shadowy figure appear at the window, I had to fight back a scream. This was every woman's worst nightmare, and I'd actually invited it to happen!

Frozen in fear, I desperately tried to make out any identifying characteristics as the man climbed through the window. His movements held astonishing grace in performing what should have been an awkward act. The nightlight's glow allowed me to discern what I thought were familiar features; I was almost certain it was Myles entering my bedroom.

But that didn't mean I was safe. A man who would make those late-night phone calls, and who would so confidently leave his house and slip into mine, couldn't be trusted.

Once he was all the way inside, I pretended to be asleep. For some reason, that seemed my safest option. My chest quickly rose and fell, and I prayed he wouldn't hear my shallow breathing.

Instead of immediately closing the short distance between us, Myles began to undress. Through lowered lids, I watched him pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. When I heard the faint but unmistakable sound of him lowering the zipper of his jeans, I almost whimpered. But along with my abject fear, I felt a needy ache between my thighs. It made me worry that I was just as crazy as Myles.

Now that he was completely naked, I could see the outline of his substantial erection. It took all my will to resist bolting from the room. He was the definition of stealth during his approach. Sitting down on the edge of my bed, he didn't try to touch me. I struggled to keep my eyes closed, for I was desperate to see what was happening.

His breathing grew heavier, and I felt he was mocking me with that familiar sound. But when he grasped the sheet covering my body and began to lower it, he grew so silent that I could hear my heart pounding.

Finally, he spoke in a soft voice. "We can pretend you're asleep if that helps."

I remained motionless, both fearing and craving his touch. Somehow, I managed not to flinch when he stroked my cheek. His hand traveled along my neck before settling between my breasts. I didn't have to look to know that my nipples were hard beneath the thin fabric of my nightshirt.

Myles was gentle in lifting that shirt. I felt the room's warm air room drift over my stomach. Through slightly parted lips, I breathed faster, waiting for him to expose my tits.

He pulled up the shirt until it was bunched at my neck. "Oh, Colleen." His sigh was as soft as his fingertips grazing my right nipple. "Do you know how much it excites me to play with you like this?"

Though I was still afraid, my arousal heightened in response to his touch. He began fondling both of my breasts, ever so gently squeezing them. All the while, his fingers teased my nipples. It was all I could do not to arch my back; I wanted his hands all over me. With a restraint I never dreamed I possessed, I kept still, but I couldn't suppress a faint moan.

Soon, Myles had me sopping wet between my thighs. My face grew hotter as I imagined how hard he still was. But just when I'd relaxed into the pleasure of his sensual caresses, he gave my nipple a pinch. The flash of pain made me gasp, and I remembered I didn't know this man at all.

I kept up the ridiculous charade of being asleep, because Myles was right: it did make this easier for me. The moment I opened my eyes and looked up at him, I'd be forced to acknowledge that he was here at my invitation.

I heard him lean toward me, and another moan emerged from my throat at the feel of his tongue sweeping over my nipple. It was as if he wanted to soothe the pain his rough fingers had caused. And oh, he did! Ever so gently, he suckled first one breast, and then the other. My hips bucked when he extended his tongue and flicked it against my left nipple. His hot breath wafted over my skin.

Slowly sitting up again, he slid his fingertips along my stomach. "You didn't think I'd come, did you?" His voice was as taunting as mine had been on the phone. "But now that I'm here, Colleen, I plan to do far more than just jerk off."

Myles slipped a hand into my cotton panties, inching lower until he discovered how wet I was. "You must be having some exciting dreams," he said through a grin. "Am I in them?" His fingers brushed against my pubic hair, which was matted with my juices. "I don't think I've ever been with a woman who's gotten this wet."

My blush deepened at his words. While taking his time exploring my inner folds, Myles began stroking his cock. I could hear the whisper of skin on skin as his hand moved up and down his length. The sound reminded me that he was hard and ready; nothing short of me screaming would stop him from eventually climbing into this bed.

But first, he was determined to play with me.

I couldn't keep from writhing as he circled a fingertip around my clitoris. That little nub seemed to have its own heartbeat, for it throbbed in anticipation of his touch. Again, I listened to Myles's heavy breathing; he was clearly growing more aroused from his stroking, and also his teasing.

A strange whimpering sound filled my ears, and I realized it was coming from me. With slick fingers, Myles gently massaged my clit. Finally, he was giving me the stimulation I ached for! I didn't try to stop my hips from rocking. No, I was shameless while grinding against his hand. Yet I still refused to open my eyes.

Inflicting a sweet, relentless torment, he repeatedly brought me to the brink of orgasm. Every time I began shaking, he withdrew. Unable to resist peeking, I discovered him using both hands to masturbate. The veins lining his cock were easily visible beneath the thin layer of flesh covering them. Did he sense that I was watching? I thought he did, because he made a show of gathering up the large bead of precum resting on...