Another thing he could see was that it was a short distance down the bank, across the mostly dry creekbed, and up the other bank into those bushes. Be easy enough to find your way in the dark if you were careful. You wouldn’t need to climb the fence, either. There was a gate about twenty yards away. Why they’d put a gate in the fence here was anybody’s guess, but there it was. The padlock on it was an old Schindler. He grinned when he saw that. Hell, with one of the passkeys they had at Mossman Hardware, you could open that puppy up in about two seconds flat.
Eight o’clock Monday morning, he was back across the street from the blue bungalow. He didn’t have to be at work until ten and he was hoping the blonde would leave for whatever job she had long before that. Sure enough, she came out at about eight-twenty. All dressed up in a tan suit, that tawny blonde hair piled high on top of her head. Sweetmeat for a treat!
He followed her red Miata downtown. She stopped for coffee and a doughnut or something at a bakery on Fourth and then she went to the Merchants’ Exchange Bank on Hollowell. The bank wasn’t open yet, but somebody let her in and she didn’t come out again. So that had to be where she worked.
He took another ride to the bank on his lunch hour, and this time he went inside. He saw her right away. She wasn’t a teller — she had her own desk and she was tapping away on a computer, her lower lip caught between her teeth. He tried not to stare too hard as he walked by. There was one of those little nameplates on her desk and that was how he found out her name was Julie Brock.
Over the next week he found out some more things about her, just by hanging around the bank and her neighborhood. Turned out she wasn’t married or living with anybody. She did have a boyfriend, handsome football player type who drove a fuckin’ Mercedes. The boyfriend stayed late at her bungalow a couple of times, but not the whole night. Which maybe meant he was married, or maybe it didn’t mean anything at all. Guy didn’t come over every night, either, only on Friday and Saturday. During the week, she turned out her lights and hit the sack before eleven. Probably because she had to get up early for her job.
The following Monday night, he left his apartment a little before ten and drove to the grammar school. He made sure nobody was around before he went into the schoolyard, across to the chainlink fence. He was scared and excited, both. He knew he was taking a real big risk, he’d had a lot of conversations with himself about that, but he hadn’t been able to talk himself out of it. Crazy, sure, but it was the only way he’d ever get to see her alone, up close and personal.
He slipped through the gate, picked his way across the creek and up into her yard without making enough noise to carry. The rear windows and back entrance were dark, but he found a lighted window on the far side. The curtains were open and the room inside was plain as day. Oh, man, it was her bedroom! She wasn’t in there, but the covers on the bed were turned down and more light was showing behind a partly open door in the far wall.
He stepped into a patch of tree shadow, his mouth dry and metal-tasting. It was a perfect spot for looking, only about twenty-five feet of lawn between him and the window. He waited there, so damn excited he had trouble catching his breath.
And then he heard the sound of a toilet flushing and she walked out of the bathroom, and all she was wearing was a bra and panties. Bug-eyed, he watched her move around here and there, arranging clothes and stuff. And then she started doing a bunch of exercises, bending over, stretching, jumping, twisting, all that fine glistening flesh shaking and quivering.
He didn’t think the show could get any better, but pretty soon it did. As soon as she stopped exercising, she reached up behind her and unhooked her bra and let it fall. A couple of seconds later she was out of her panties, too. Natural blonde! He couldn’t believe he was seeing her like that, all of her, naked. Hot and sweaty and naked, right there in front of him, rubbing her hands under her breasts and down over her hips...
Man, oh, man, oh man oh man oh man ohmanohmanohmanohmanohman — oh!
He kept going back there. After that show the first night, he wouldn’t’ve stayed away for a million bucks. Didn’t go Friday or Saturday, but most every other night. Once the boyfriend was there even though it wasn’t the weekend, the two together in the sack, but the only light was in the bathroom and he couldn’t see much of what they were doing. Another time she had the curtains closed for some damn reason. The rest of the nights it was showtime. Into the bedroom she’d come in bra and panties, fuss around, do those exercises for about ten minutes, get naked, rub up that hot sweaty body for a minute or so, then go take a shower and get into bed and shut off the light. Man, it was better than any video he’d ever seen, porn or otherwise.
Then one night, a real warm night, she had the bedroom window open for some air. She came out and did her number, and he must’ve shifted around and made a noise or something because all of a sudden she quit exercising and moved to the window and stood peering out. He was pretty sure she couldn’t see him out in the dark, but he froze anyway. She stood staring for a few seconds and then, quick, she shut the window and went and turned out the light before she got into bed.
He should’ve taken that as a warning and not gone back for a while. But he didn’t. He went back the next night at the same time.
And that was his big mistake.
The lights were on in her bedroom, same as usual, but he didn’t see her as he slipped through the oleanders to his ringside spot. He figured she was still in the bathroom, which was always a relief because a time or two he’d got there a little late and missed part of the show. He eased forward into the patch of tree shadow, licking his lips.
And all of a sudden a bright beam of light hit him square in the eyes and a voice, her voice, said hard and angry, “You dirty damn pervert!”
He almost jumped out of his skin. Panic surged in him and he’d’ve taken off, run like the fuckin’ wind if she hadn’t said, “Stand right there — I have a gun, I’ll shoot if you move.”
He froze. Heard himself say, “A gun?” in a voice like a frog croaking.
“That’s right, and I know how to use it. You don’t think I’d be out here waiting for you unarmed, do you?”
“Listen, I’m sorry, Julie, I didn’t mean nothing—”
“Oh, so you know my name. Well, I know you, too, you fat creep, I’ve seen you before. What were you planning to do? Sneak in some night and rape me?”
“No! Jesus, no, I never would’ve done nothing like that, I never would’ve hurt you...”
“You just like to watch, is that it? Well, your Peeping Tom days are over right now.”
“What... what’re you gonna do?”
“Call the police, that’s what I’m going to do.”
“No, wait, you can’t—”
“Can’t I? You just watch me. Go on, get moving.”
“Moving? Where?”
“Into the house, where do you think?”
He didn’t want to go into the house. He still wanted to run, but what good would that do? She could identify him, she’d sic the cops on him anyway—
“Move, I said. If you don’t do what I say, if you try anything, I’ll shoot you. I mean it, I will.”
For a few seconds more it was like he was paralyzed. Then he wasn’t anymore, his legs were moving and taking him out onto the lawn. The flashlight glare slid out of his eyes — she was over on the other side of the tree — but he was still half blind. He stumbled and heard somebody make a little moaning sound... him, it came out of him. She told him to walk around to the back door and he did that. She told him to open it and go inside and he did that, too.