The Voyeur Next Door!

In a nutshell, the 40-year-old woman next door saw me naked this morning. It all happened so fast that it took a good two hours for it to sink in. I had my bath, wrapped a towel round my waist and came into my room, switched on the fan, stood under it and whipped the towel open. That was when I heard a scream.

I panicked, fell to the floor for cover and picked up the wet towel and covered my body. I slowly stood up and looked around. The window directly in front of me was open and through it, I could see on to the terrace of my neighbor’s house. Amidst all the clothes that were hung out to dry, I saw this woman hiding behind a particularly heavy saree that sagged the clothesline. She was standing behind it and it looked to me as if she was covering her face with her hands. I gulped and looked on, and after a while, she slowly peeped at my window from behind her saree. On seeing me staring at her, she let out a giggle and ran back into her house.

I stood there, butt naked but for the towel, drained of all my decency, and wallowed in the realization that the woman next door is a voyeur. I felt used and abused. I felt as if my manhood was up for sale, auctioned off to all middle-aged voyeuristic women! I felt dirty. I felt weird.

Luckily for me, I don’t interact much with the neighbors and I’m rarely at home these days, so I think this incident will pass. I hope it does. Jesus Christ! A man can’t even change his clothes in privacy!