Hot

[webofevil]

Too hot. Can’t sleep. It was on just such a sleepless, sweltering night three years ago that it began to rain at about four in the morning. I went to close the window and there, on a rug laid out in the nearest garden to me of the houses in the next street, were two of my neighbours having sex. They heard my window go and saw me see them, and started guiltily. That or they’d just felt the rain. I couldn’t identify them—it was 4am, after all, and my window's about 30 feet up (see mice passim). Ever since then I’ve seen people heading home to that street and wondered idly if it was them—and whether they recognise me.


EDIT: I was asked today if this entry was true. I'm aware that, despite featuring two people actually having sex, this anecdote isn't exactly much of a humdinger, and I like to think that if I were actually to make up a story involving people having sex, it would be a damn sight more racy than "I saw them and they stopped".

Comments

[trashmcstate.livejournal.com]

Give them a little wink, and gauge their reaction.

That's WINK, by the way.

[webofevil.livejournal.com]

> That's WINK, by the way.

Either way, a reaction's likely.

[ex-cornfedpi814.livejournal.com]

Maybe it would be better if the two people involved are in Eastenders.

[lowlowprices.livejournal.com]

"They heard my window go and saw me see them, and started guiltily."

When I first read this I thought you meant that they stopped, acknowledged their audience and then resumed, only this time with guilt.

But you're right: most erotica doesn't dwell too heavily on remorse, embarassment and failing to have sex. More's the pity.