Page 6 of The Sound of Silence

My girl would be returning home soon.

Killing the lights, I walked to the folding chair near the window, picking up my Nikon and a pair of binoculars. Then I waited as I had that morning.

Gianna always left the blinds for the balcony door open, giving me the ability to see most of her apartment. I didn’t like that. It made me nervous. I mean, didn’t she watch the news? Anybody could have climbed the fire escape up four stories and snatched her. Still, her lack of precautions worked to my benefit, so I didn’t want to complain. It’s how I’d come to know her routine so well.

She started her day with yoga and granola. While many people strived to be better, most took the cheater way out.

But not my girl.

She took care of herself, which was more than I could say for the vast majority of the delusional, over-medicated, take-a-pill-to-fix-my-problems people of America. My girl only took vitamin C when she felt the onset of a head cold. As far as I was concerned, that didn’t count as medication since its effectiveness was only a myth, anyway.

After she finished with my favorite yoga stretch, the downward dog, she’d sit on the tan sofa and read a book. A bit of time would pass, her body cooling down from the yoga routine, and I’d see her nipples pebble beneath her tank top right before she’d cover herself with the pink-and-yellow afghan her mother knitted for her when she was just a child. She never read on a Kindle. No, my girl refused to cheapen literary brilliance by reading on an electronic device. She read paperbacks like smart people—but none of those trashy Harlequin things. Classics were much more preferable likeThe Catcher in the RyeorThe Great Gatsby.

The stereo would go on after about an hour of reading time. Her taste in music left much to be desired, but we would fix that once we were officially a couple. In time, my girl would come to appreciate the works of Johannes Brahms and Ludwig van Beethoven. I just needed to show her the way.

After she picked a song, she’d disappear into the bathroom. That was the only time I couldn’t see her. As much as it annoyed me, I realized using my imagination was probably for the best. My mother used to say, “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free, my boy?”

She was right—just as she almost always was—but the mere thought of my girl showering and rubbing soapy hands over naked breasts made my dick twitch. I would need to be punished for lusting, but at that moment, that was of little concern. I unzipped my pants at the exact moment the lights for Gianna’s fourth-floor apartment across the street came on.

She was right on time.

“Gianna Valentini,” I said in a hushed tone, her name rolling off my tongue like a damn poem. “Now, let’s solve the mystery of whether you’re wearing panties, shall we? Are you or are you not a dirty girl?”

Raising the binoculars, I watched as she launched into her nightly routine. It always began with the removal of her shoes, and tonight was no different. After placing them neatly by the door, my girl placed her hands on the small of her back and gave in to a good stretch. When she bent over to rub her toes, I knew her feet were aching after working a long shift. Even though she loved wearing those useless, non-athletic sneakers, I wished she would wear shoes with more support.

She walked through the family room into her bedroom. I watched her through the open bedroom door as she unbuttoned her black trousers and let them fall to the floor. Pulling her shirt over her head, she dropped it on the floor as well. I never liked to see her display such sloth. However, this time, I couldn’t help but smile when I saw the strappy lines of a red thong wrapping around her hips.

“I knew you weren’t a dirty girl, Gia,” I murmured, pleased to see she was, in fact, wearing underwear. Scarlett Johansson would be proud. “I guess I can forgive you just this once for leaving your clothes on the floor. Besides, I know you’ll pick them up later.”

I began to stroke myself, anticipating what I knew would come next. She would disappear into the bathroom, then reappear wearing pink shorts and a tank top. If it was winter, she’d be wearing purple flannel pants with the same tank top.

Thankfully, it wasn’t winter.

Pajama shorts hugging my girls’ hips was always a treat—especially when she sat on the couch with her legs bent and ankles crossed as she watched reruns ofFriends. What did kids call that sitting position nowadays? Apparently, it was no longer PC to say someone was sitting Indian style. All I knew was, whenever my girl sat that way, I was able to justify the cost of the Nikon. Just as I predicted, she went into the bathroom and reemerged a few minutes later, wearing my favorite little pink shorts.

“That’s it, Gia. Now sit down on the couch. Go ahead and bite the sparkly polish off your fingernails. Yes, it’s a gross habit, but we can work on that later as long as you cross your legs just the way I like. Go on now…”

Through the binoculars, I watched as she picked up the television remote. The pinky finger on her left hand went to her mouth while the thumb on her right hand pressed down on the remote-control buttons. She channel surfed for what seemed like eons.

Click, click, click.

“I don’t know why you bother, Gia. Let’s get real. We both know Ross & Rachel always win.”

After a few minutes of futile searching,Friendsappeared on the television. I was right again. I saw her smile, and I smiled, too. I knew she was probably giggling that adorable little giggle over something Chandler had said. I knew her so well, it was almost scary.

Pulling her knees up, she let them fall to the side and crossed her ankles. The shorts naturally parted to the side, giving me a small peek at naked lips and light brown curls.

“Criss-cross applesauce! That’s what it is!” It was a stupid fucking name, but I didn’t dwell on it, too busy wondering how loud my girl would scream when she orgasmed for me for the first time. Picking up the Nikon, I zoomed in on the area between her legs. “Good girl. Stay sitting just like that.”

I snapped a few pictures, then went back to using the binoculars. Leaning back in the chair, I squeezed my cock tighter and imagined it was my girl’s mouth, sucking me dry.

Part II

Until Death Do Us Part

3

Gianna

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