THE WATCHER 

                          by

                     Joe Whatever



The apartment across the alley had been vacant for months.

So naturally when I saw the lone white chair sitting in the 
window, I was intrigued.

My interest turned to fascination when, later that night, the 
man in the outrageously bogus pirate costume dragged the woman 
in the beautiful red ball gown over his knee.

I watched transfixed as the skirt and petticoats were raised, one 
after another.  I could feel my panties getting damp when I saw 
she wore no pantaloons.  

SPANK!  SPANK!  SPANK!

		******************************

The next night I watched the same man, now dressed in riding 
breeches, teach the same woman, now dressed as a French maid, 
the importance of proper dusting.

The woman looked at me in horror as her ruffled panties were 
lowered to her knees....

The night after that I watched as a pretty, uniformed police 
officer was ambushed by a "burglar."

He took away her "gun," turned on the radio, and ordered the 
mortified "policewoman" to dance....

I sipped champagne as I watched the furiously blushing woman 
reluctantly strip for our amusement.

She looked pleadingly at me as the "criminal" cuffed her with 
her own handcuffs and teasingly ran her own leather police belt 
over her bare fanny.

I smiled at her and raised my champagne glass in salute.

		******************************

It was like that every night for a month.

Boss and secretary.

Housewife and repairman.

Arab sheik and captive princess....

The woman usually got there first.

I would show up early to torment her just with my eyes.

The pretty cheerleader or naughty nurse would glare at me as 
I sat on my comfy sofa and sipped my sparkling white wine.

Occasionally I would stand up, rub my fanny, and wince in mock 
sympathy before bursting into laughter.

Now and then I would imitate the humiliating little "spanking 
dances" she did before falling back onto my couch in spasms of 
laughter.

The more humiliating her punishment, the more I enjoyed it.

I don't think she liked me.

One night she put up curtains.

Damn!

But the Roman slave trader quickly ripped them down.  The 
mortified slave girl was put through her paces naked.

And I got to watch.

		******************************

The box outside my apartment door was addressed to 

		THE GIRL ACROSS THE ALLEY  

When I opened it, I found this note:

	MRS. JOHNSON SAYS YOU'RE STILL PEEPING IN HER WINDOW.
	PUT ON YOUR JAMMIES.  I'LL DEAL WITH YOU WHEN I GET 
	HOME, YOUNG LADY!

	UNCLE STEVE

The pajamas in the box had little bears on them.  And the childish 
white underpants had little bunnies.  I looked across the alley at 
the woman, who was now wearing the same sort of crisp business 
clothes I always wore.  As I began to nervously unbutton my blouse, 
the grinning woman leaned back in her white chair, took another 
sip of her chilled wine, and raised her glass in salute....



Edited by C. Lakewood