1.9.4.5.”“OK, got it thanks.”“OK, Bye.”“Mr. Johnson?”“What?”“You can come for a swim any time you want.”“And you can call me M...rk,” I said.“Oh that’s OK, I prefer Mr. Johnson.” She said with a little giggle in her voice.“OK, whatever.” I said and hung up. I couldn’t help taking an occasional peak out the window to marvel at her perfection. I found my binoculars. Between calls during the rest of the day and most of the next I would peer through them at her bikini clad figure from the safety of. She often didthis, and it brought a ray of sunlight into my usually grey day life. I was watching the game on TV and I said it was fine by me, she knew where everything was. She disappeared for a while and I settled back to watch the second half. When I saw her next the game was over and I had started watching an inane game show, she was just in a towel, far too small to be modest, tied at the top in a way only women manage. If I try to tie my towel like that it falls off in seconds. But the. More

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