I watch her kneeling there and feel the thrill of this intimacy even though she doesn’t know I’m here. I gaze at the curve of her naked back, the slenderness of her young hips, the smoothness of her shoulders. I want to sink my teeth into them and feel her shudder. But we’re not alone and she is not waiting for me.
He appears at the window, too dark outside to make him out but somehow that is so right. This mysterious shadow stands gazing at this thing of beauty and I envy him. He can, and will inevitably, enter through the door and enjoy her. But like me, he prefers to watch, to anticipate, to arouse himself through vision before allowing the exquisite pain of touch to transcend his ecstasy.. So he stands and places one hand on the window, touching her body through the glass. His fingernails scraping half silently down the pane as he grips her hair and pulls. I know this is what he is thinking because I find my own hand clawing too. I envy him more.
I see the back of her head rise from peering at her lap and look towards the shadow. She holds his gaze her and only movement is to take her hands from her legs and place them, palms flat, to the side of her on the bed. Then she leans back slightly as though to allow him a better view. My heart races and it is all I can do to stop myself rushing forth and run my tongue along her breasts.
She reaches out with one gentle, tiny finger and briefly brushes the cold metal of the restraints. How I wish to pin her down, lock her wrists to the bed, and take her. She glances at the leather strap and I imagine picking it up by the handle and using it on her gentle, supple thighs. There is no fight of conscience here. I want her, no matter how innocent she may be.
I wonder if I could kill him, this strange mystery lurking in the shadows; this voyeur who invades my fantasy. But such a thought shakes me from my reverie and I remember that I am here to watch, not touch. But I can’t hate him any the less for it.
And then she turns herself fully towards me, her back to the window now and I gasp. She looks directly at me, whether knowing I am here or not, I do not know. I see the slight turn to her smile; the intensity bursting out from deep within her eyes. And I know. I know.
I had it all so wrong. Those cruel tools of sadistic beauty are not for him to inflict desire on this poor child. They are for this demon vixen to unleash upon his poor soul. From the moment he steps through the door he will be doomed. He is no person; no man with a future; no lover who can feel compassion and friendship. He is meat to be torn apart and destroyed one emotion at a time. No one can save him, no one will try. But I will watch and die with him.