Voyeur

I watch them everyday.

snap snap snap

I can see them quite clearly from my room on the second floor. They park round back in the alleyway, in the darkest corner, where they think no one can see them. But I see them. I always see them.

snap snap snap

I have bumped into them several times in the lobby. The lady in particular. She lives here. She always smells of sweetness: vanilla and strawberries. He of sweat and sin. He is married; I know that much about him. It is not hard to miss the large gold band adorning his left ring finger. He takes it off sometimes when he’s with the lady. Disgusting. The lady knows he is married – she is his secretary. What a cliché.

snap snap snap

I am almost out of film.

The man throws his head back, pure ecstasy etched upon his scrunched up face. I hear the lady cry out with delight. They are almost finished.

snap snap snap snap snap

I am clicking the button frantically now. The lady's cries reach a higher pitch and the man grips onto the window ledge for balance.

snap snap snap snap snap

Squeal. Grunt. They are done. That’s the money shot.

snap snap click

I am out of film. I will buy some more at the store this afternoon while the current roll develops.

The man and the lady quickly readjust their clothes and look around to make sure they have not attracted any unwanted attention. They don’t see me. But I see them.

I am watching them.

Always watching.