Voyeur Afternoon as Rebecca Watches George Meet Carly

George had lived across the courtyard from Rebecca and Carly for almost a year before the note appeared under his door. It was written in neat, looping ink and said only that the two women had noticed him noticing them, and that if he wanted a better view, he should keep his lamp off at ten tonight and leave his curtains open. He read it three times, his pulse climbing, then set it on the counter and watched the clock crawl toward evening.

At ten exactly, their window glowed amber. Rebecca stepped into the light first, tall and confident, her dark hair loose over a silk robe the color of wine. Carly followed, laughing softly, barefoot in a white slip that caught the lamplight like water. They knew precisely where he stood. Rebecca raised her glass toward his window in a slow toast, and Carly drew the cord of her partner's robe between her fingers, teasing it open one careful inch at a time.

George stayed perfectly still, every nerve awake. There was something intoxicating about being invited to watch, about the shared secret stretched across the dark courtyard. The women moved together without hurry, trading kisses that started gentle and grew hungry, hands tracing shoulders and hips as if they had all the time in the world. Every so often Carly glanced up at him with a knowing smile, making it clear the performance was meant for one devoted audience.

When the lamp finally dimmed, his phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number. Same time tomorrow, it read, but this time, leave your own light on. George laughed under his breath, heart still racing, and realized the game between the three of them had only just begun. He reached for the lamp switch and wondered how bold he would dare to be when it was his turn to be seen.