It was raining, and I was a little tipsy.
Now — I have a balcony. One I use.
My friend always warned me, "People can see you from outside. Do you just walk around naked all the time?"
Well, yeah. It's my apartment. I don't pay rent to not walk around naked.
It was a regular night. I'd just finished a bottle of wine, lit a few candles, soft music in the background. I was getting ready for some... me time.
But then I thought — I always do this in bed. Why not change the scenery?
I mean, I've had sex in plenty of unconventional places. I just wanted to spice things up.
I've thought about ceiling hooks. One day.
I have done it in a wardrobe before. Wouldn't recommend. Kind of depressing, honestly.
So I did the only thing that made sense at the time.
I grabbed a fresh bottle, and I took myself — and my intentions — to the balcony.
You see where this is going, right?
Whatever you're imagining... you're probably not wrong.
Unless you have a twisted imagination. Then maybe… you're too right.
So there I was. Completely bare, on the balcony.
The rain was loud, the night was dark. No echo. Seemed like solid logic.
Head tilted back, legs up on the cold steel rail.
Wine glass in one hand. The other hand... busy.
Because sometimes, the world fades best when your eyes are closed.
Kisses, food, memories. Magic happens behind closed lids.
And I was chasing a little magic.
Then — I opened them.
It was still dark. But not that dark.
You could make out shapes if you stared hard enough.
So I did.
And that's when I saw him.
Some guy. In the woods. Across from my building.
And he was absolutely going at it.
I blinked. Squinted. Paused. Tried to convince myself it was just a tree.
Nope. Not a tree.
I dropped one leg, leaned over slightly. Watched.
The figure slowed for a second — then resumed. Faster.
That's when it hit me.
He was doing it… to me.
Not just vaguely in my direction. I mean — direct line of sight.
Eye contact. Through the shadows.
Um. Rude.
I mean — do your thing. But don't make me the subject.
Don't make me the muse. At least ask first.
I don't go creeping around fantasizing about strangers on balconies.
I use my imagination. Like a civilized person.
Now, normally, I'd run inside. But I was… curious.
Not curious enough to join in. That'd be weird. Right?
But the audacity of it all kept me still.
Now I was invested. Irritated. Confused.
Also — I live in a retirement home. (Long story.)
And I know none of those senior citizens have the shoulder stamina I just witnessed.
I sighed.
Should I call the cops? But then I'd have to explain why I was outside. Naked. On a balcony I'm probably not supposed to be on.
You see — this is the problem with being a little offbeat:
Your lifestyle ruins your ability to report crimes.
And worst of all?
I didn't even get that orgasm.
So now what?