Sometimes it is so easy to take something… something that may never have been yours to take in the first place:

I see you.

You’re sitting in the dark, your legs stretched out in front of you, your back propped against a corner of the wall. The telephone cable snakes across the bare floorboards; your right arm is bent, holding the receiver to your ear.

And you are naked.

And once you take it, can you ever really give it back? Would you even want to?

As I stand in the middle of the floor, transfixed by the view through my window and yours, I watch your left hand, lit by a slash of light across your torso and legs, creeping slowly towards the erection standing thick and proud from below the taut muscles on your belly.

Who is it you are talking to, I wonder? Is it a woman? A man? A lover? Someone you desperately wish to have as a lover? Whoever it is, I can tell how much you want them.

Your fingers curl around your shaft, and you begin to stroke. Slowly, at first. Taking your time.  Rubbing the ball of your thumb over the crown, spreading the beads of precum already forming over the tip. Making it glimmer slickly in the sodium light.

Watching really isn’t a crime, is it?