CHAPTER XL: THE VOYEUR, PART ONE Young Connor first noticed her in the laundry room of his apartment building, sorting clothes from a large basket into three open washing machines. Her familiarity with the surroundings indicated that she was a fellow resident, and there was something maddeningly familiar about her face, as if he had seen her before but could not recall from where. But he was sure he'd not seen this particular woman before; he would have remembered a body like hers. She was wearing high-heeled sandals, short shorts, and a form- fitting ribbed cotton-blend bodysuit that was tight enough to create a bas relief of any underlying garments that might lie beneath on its surface. There were none. Even though he was only in his early teens, Connor had become an expert on whether any given woman's figure was receiving support from beneath, regardless of the nature of the overlying outfit. The protuberant nipples easily visible through the cloth and the slightly raised areolae around them that would not have been discernible to a less trained eye were also a dead giveaway. In fact, it was their perfectly centered position at the apex of each firmly rounded breast and the degree to which they defied the pressure created by the overlying fabric to stand as tall as they did that initially drew his eye to her. He drank in her image as a connoisseur of fine wine might sip a classic vintage. She was absolutely exquisite; the stuff of wet dreams. Smoothly sculpted calves blended with muscular, but not "bumpy" thighs. A deep crevasse in the material of her shorts marked where the back of each thigh met with the wide, strong, teardrop-shaped buttocks that so magnificently filled out her backside. In front, the muscularity of her quadriceps crisply defined the V that hid her southern femininity. Her shorts climbed almost to the bottom point of that V, yet even with his sensitive vision Connor could not see even a glimpse of a wayward hair peeking out -- she must shave often, and fairly closely. No sign of panties either. Hips that one could easily rest hands upon flared out from a narrow waist. A ribbon about that waist would form a perfect ellipse with a circumference of no more than twenty-two or twenty-three inches. The bodysuit showed a perfectly flat stomach; a well-placed dimple in the fabric suggested a navel that was an innie rather than an outie. Directly above two faint ridges that defined the lower margin of her ribcage dwelt two breasts the likes of which provided inspiration for sculptors and artists. His initial reaction to them had been -- implants. How else could they ignore gravity like that? Especially as large as they are -- each rivaled a cantaloupe sizewise, but on this tall drink of water they not so oversized as to invite snickers and pointed fingers. Upon further examination, however, he was forced to recant. They were too perfectly shaped. He was convinced that no plastic surgeon in the world could have created such beauty. The way they sloped out and down on top, up and out on the bottom, with those fantastic nipples capping the junction of those two curves -- that had to be the work of a divine hand. The way they moved with her was perfect, too; they didn't look like two hemispheres that were glued to her chest, as he had seen so many implant jobs look. No, this girl was 100% natural, right up to her broad, mildly curved upper chest, well-defined collarbone, long neck, and short-coiffed head sporting eminently nibble-able ears (he liked ears). Eyes to get lost in, breasts---wasn't he just looking at her breasts? Yes, but his eyes kept being drawn to them. There was something special about them besides their splendid shape and size. What that could possibly be he didn't know, but it added to his fascination. Connor became instantly, strongly obsessed with this woman, as teenaged boys are sometimes wont to do. He would make it his goal in life to see what she looked like naked. It never occurred to him to try to pursue her sexually. He was a voyeur by preference, and so was perfectly happy to get his jollies from afar. Besides, she was too old for him -- she would only laugh at him. So he would be content to follow her whenever he saw her, to try to catch a fleeting glimpse of the curve of her breast backlit through a thin blouse, the outline of pussy lips through a particularly tight pair of slacks. Maybe he would even be resourceful enough to be in the right place at the right time when she was in the changing room of their building's swimming pool. He found out what apartment she lived in (although, dammit, her mailbox didn't have her name on it), and made it a point to be in the area when she got home from work. He didn't get many chances to see her, however; she seemed to spend a lot of time away and often got home quite late at night. He had been content with sideways glances in the common areas of the complex and the occasional passing by in the hallways (God, how he loved the way her boobs jiggled when she walked!), until one day when he had happened to be in the hall when she dropped an armful of groceries she was carrying. With his heart in his throat, he made the decision to assist her. She was wearing a very loose blouse scooped low at the neck. When she stooped to begin gathering the errant items, the material gaped far enough to reveal the inner curve of her right breast, all the way down to the nipple. He felt the blood leave his head and gather in his crotch as he dropped down next to her and lent a hand, gathering cans while getting a complete eyeful with the practiced veiled stare he had perfected years before. This was as close to nirvana as Connor had gotten in a long time. What fantastic knockers this girl had! She could shame every centerfold that resided in the footlocker at the back of his closet. The shape, the size, the color, even the...what the hell? As he continued to look, he saw the woman's eyes momentarily widen, and then the most amazing thing happened. At the tip of that perfect nipple he saw a droplet of thin whitish liquid form, then disappear as it rolled down the lower half of her breast, out of sight. He had seen this in one of the raunchier (and more dog-eared) mags he had under his bed -- this girl must have milk! This was better than his wildest fantasy! As he was reeling with this revelation, the show suddenly ended. She hurriedly collected the rest of the spilled goods, murmured some quick thanks, and promptly vanished into her apartment. It was several more seconds before enough strength returned to his legs to permit him to rise and go off to his own room, where he spent the remainder of that afternoon frantically beating off while his mother wondered whether he was feeling well. Today Connor happened to be in another part of the building when he spotted his dream girl knocking on the door of a neighbor's apartment. She was dressed for the swimming pool, with a thin robe over what he hoped was a skimpy bikini, flip-flops on her feet, and a towel thrown over her shoulder. He hid at the end of the corridor and watched as she continued to rap on the door, growing impatient until she finally yelled, "Come on, Sherri, the sun isn't going to wait for us!" "I'm almost ready! Keep your shirt on!" he heard a muffled voice behind the door say. "That's not what I'm planning!" replied the woman. He watched the door open and her friend come out. She was shorter, older, red-haired. Her robe could not hide a very large chest. Wow, her friend's stacked too, he thought. What was that she was holding? It looked like a sign which said "Pool closed for maintenance". Why would she have that? Then it hit him. They were going to hang that on the gate to keep other people out! The gate and fence surrounding the pool were high and effectively sheltered it from outside eyes -- omigod, they were going to sunbathe nude! He was sure of it. He had to beat them to the pool and find a place to hide there. He took an alternate route and to his relief found the pool abandoned. He squatted down behind a group of bushes that formed part of the landscaping around the inside of the fence, found a place to get a good view unobserved, got comfortable, and waited.