Now I recognise him.“Hello”, I say, keeping my voice steady, as if catching someone perving on my tits is something which happens every day. �...I think we are neighbours. I live across the road from you.”“Oh,” he says. “Oh, yes. I know. I’ve seen you. I mean…”He breaks off, flustered, blushing even more deeply. Is he naturally shy, or just embarrassed that I have caught him in a sexy daydream?I try to put him at ease. “I see you on your balcony”, I say, “so I guess you can see. He has to enthrall. Swanky red wine filled to a half-glass, an elegant shirt over crappy blue jeans, and some fresh cologne so she can lean over and smell him, and then breathe in, inhale and savor him.He has to seduce. Some passionate red roses so that she smiles and listens to him and thinks he's nice and caring and so much unlike her husband.A quick glance at her peeking breasts, at the alluring décolleté, at her conscious ass so that she smiles and blushes and twirls her legs. More

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