A little fiction, dedicated to my poor next-door neighbour.
This is my confession for you who listen.
Every night. Every goddamn night.
At least that’s what it seems to be. I can count on my left hand the number of times I’ve actually seen them. Her. Spoken to her? Never. Passing glimpses as we move between our houses and the car park. She doesn’t catch my eye, avoids it in fact. She knows. How could she not? At least he has some word of acknowledgement to throw in my direction. Maybe he has no shame. But I know she must do. And I share in her shame.
I know them so little, yet I know them…intimately.
It starts innocently enough; muffled, muted sounds of conversation. I can’t make out the words. She speaks more than he does. He simply has the replies, monosyllabic, short. Her tone seems friendly. Placid and comfortable. I always imagine her smiling, her face close to his. They’re not one of these couples who sit up reading individually and then it’s the peck on the cheek and a roll over to their side of the bed. No, not in my mind. Not yet, at least. They still love each other.
On most nights I catch a giggle. It begins. My chest heaves in that familiar way and I sit upright, alone in my bed. I’ve learnt that I can’t block out the sound, now I can’t resist listening in. I know I shouldn’t, I should go away from the temptation. Downstairs, a cold shower, something – anything. Then I think, ‘Why the hell shouldn’t I listen? This is my home, my bedroom after all’. So I do listen and I do feel myself twitch at every minute sound on the other side of that fucking wall. That laugh – it’s always the same low chuckle. Always hers. Pins and needles seem to flush over my skin, prickling at me from the inside trying to pierce their way out and up. I shift and squirm. I feel my pulse quicken, heart beat louder, cock harden. It’s only a matter of time.
(I tried moving my bed away from their wall to the other side of my room. I think it made it worse. I sat up staring at their wall all night. At least where I am now I face away from their divide. That’s something at least.)
Then I hear it, the sound that catches my breath and awakens every fibre, sinew and hair on my body. It’s only been minutes since that first fluttering signal of the night’s darker intentions with her laugh, but after the year since they moved in I’ve realised it won’t take him long before he works out that seemingly plaintive call from her.
I am lured in every night by it. A damned soul drawn helplessly into my own fantasies. Dancing images paint themselves in my mind of the two together on the other side of our partition. Like one transfixed, I can no longer resist my own body calling to me to release it from this…this ardour. My eyes close and I sink into their world, unseen. I am the uninvited voyeur swathed in my own darkness, hand wrapped around my erection.
That wall has heard my moans as often as it has heard theirs. Admittedly mine are subdued, I would not want to put them off their stride after all. That would end the game. All the same, I sigh into the air and whisper what a good girl she is, making both of us come with that wet slickness between her legs. I try to picture her breasts, I see him kissing them, licking. Oh and the sucking of those nipples. Mustn’t forget that.
This is a ménage only I am privy to, but never take part in.
Sounds change, her pitch rises, his become audible. Close. So close we are now. I crave I catch the sound that makes me twitch like nothing else on this earth. That makes me instantly draw my hand off and away from my body for fear of coming too soon. I can never judge when it will happen, it’s not every time and sometimes weeks will go by before they include it again. But its sound is unmistakable.
My eyes fly open.
Heart drops through my chest.
Mouth runs dry.
All the air seems to have left my room and time slows down. All that exists is that glorious sound beyond the wall and my own stifled breathing here with me.
I am smiling now and I know I am condemned, yet my hand finds its home for one final stroke and for those precious seconds, she is mine.
This is my confession and I dare you to judge me without doing just as I have done in that solitary darkness.