Approaching the window, I noticed there were no curtains, with the lights clearly on, shining onto the wet pavement. You look, don't you, see what's inside. She was draped on an armchair, crossed legs bared out of her bathrobe, not pretending, looking straight at me. I stopped, of course, looking back at her, eye to eye. Her hands reached for the belt and undid it. She opened her legs, pulling the robe clear to show her nakedness to me. Her deep breaths raised her heavy breasts. A perfectly bald, sweaty pout told me she'd planned this. She showed, I looked.