http://www.dixiedogwear.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/see-the-curtains-hanging-in-the-window-awesome-summer-breeze-of-see-the-curtains-hanging-in-the-window.jpg ^{[Image source: ***Dixie***](http://www.dixiedogwear.com/see-the-curtains-hanging-in-the-window/see-the-curtains-hanging-in-the-window-awesome-summer-breeze/)} # You won't have to wonder why I'm here too long. My pants are my alibi, drooping below my knees and kissing the floor with loose wisps of thread ends. My feet are bare but my eyes remain closer to nirvana than any other parts of me. She was bathed in clear luminous yellow light, the curtains streaking her skin with vertical lines. I peeped and peeped, hiding behind the bushy flowers while my eyes feasted. You would think she was waiting for me. Clad only in panties and a thigh-high T-shirt, she began to twirl and twirl to the loud pop CD she played. The entire scenario belied her age. Here was a chemistry major who knew the composition of several complex plastics and the technical names of the several chemicals we experimented with. I couldn't take my eyes off her. Once in a while, she would dance close to the edge of the room and I would recline on the wall behind the one that bore her curtains. It was dark, and no one would pass by at this hour. It was peculiar to this haphazardly structured, vacant street. The only vagrant awake was I. She? Well, she had a place amidst the blaring of her pop enabling speakers. She had found a place in the tightness of her skin too. Further reinforced by the slow ease in which she divested her clothes. Terrible, terrible slowness. She peeped out into the curtains first, and I had to muffle the sound of my bare feet getting caught in prickly thorns as I reclined. Self assured the coast was clear, she made to reduce the intensity of the blaring speakers. With my slant neck raised, I watched her Lithe long legs and dangling knotted blonde hair has she backed me. My drum like heartbeat felt wonderfully asynchronous to the tap, tap that were her light steps. I couldn't tell which would come off first. The song still played and so she danced to it. Holding on to the ends of her shirt and pulling it up and past her waistline, she began to wriggle slowly, flipping her hair to the beat in a way that one would in a club. She looked liberated. And to me, it was sexually asphyxiating. To watch her blossom like a flower, to catch that blissful expression on her face as she continued to dance, tugging the collar of her shirt to a spot around her shoulders, and in that way, bringing to my view the swell of her chest and skin that seemed it would taste like brown sugar. My guilt, however, did not last long. My thighs began to feel heavy and my pants became abettors, magnifying the need between my legs.

Image source: Pxhere, commons.

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