Romans & histoires The Woman In The Window

All she has been is a man. The window opposite mine, a man places a woman there, fucks her for a minute or less and lets her alone then he moves his lean body away from the window. I have seen that woman at her window several times when she is fully clothed. She looks out just like me. Maybe she's a captive like me.

After a long moment, the car window slowly lowered, revealing an exquisite face. The woman wore large sunglasses that covered most of her features, making it difficult to see her clearly. Still, her contours suggested she was young and beautiful. The car's interior was luxurious, with a delicate pendant hanging in front of the window, featuring a striking ruby that caught the eye. Jade stared at the woman's face, feeling a sense of familiarity but unable to recall where she had seen her before. "Hello, could you step out for a chat?" Jade asked, noticing the woman had no intention of getting out of the car. "We need to discuss the compensation."

Could he be my mate? ************************* In a dark room more like a dungeon, a woman is on a chair facing the window. At first thought, one might think she's a stature but when one focus on her breathing then you'll know that she's a human. She seems to be lost in her own world not speaking to anyone, some times, she occasionally asks for the time that's all.

“There’s no way she could have gotten out fast enough. Not without help…” “Which floor is she on?” I ask, pulling an axe off the truck. “Second—” Her eyes widen on the building, her fingers grabbing at my sleeve. “Jesus, there she is! I can see her in the window.” The woman lunges toward the fire, but Clement catches her around the waist, the woman’s arms and legs pinwheeling in every direction. “Point her out,” he orders loudly to be heard over the sirens. “Which window?” A keening sound breaks from the woman’s mouth, her shaking finger lifting to indicate a corner apartment on the second floor, where the outline of a person can indeed be seen behind a window. The woman inside is waving som

"The feds are gone. Reed is finished. Your father is dead. It’s just us." "It's never just us, Caleb." I looked at the house. I saw a light go on in the upper window. A silhouette stood there. It wasn't Sophia. It was a woman. She was holding a baby. "Who is that?" I pointed at the window. Caleb turned. His face went gray. "No. That's not possible." "Who is she, Caleb?" The woman in the window raised a hand. She waved. Slow. Deliberate. The door to the house opened.

The woman rapped at my window again gesturing for me to come out of the car, her expression remained neutral but kind. I hesitated, my instincts fighting between curiosity at the woman and also caution that she might be bait sent by those rogue wolves or even the big black wolf to get me into a spot where they could easily pick me off. After a moment’s deliberation, I decided to roll down the window almost halfway – wide enough for me to hear what she wanted to say and still protect myself if she tried anything funny. “Who are you?” I asked, trying to hide the fear in my voice. “What do you want?”

A beautiful, silent accessory. She drifted, letting the crowd flow around her. Her destination was the western-facing window, a vast, uninterrupted pane that offered a dizzying view of the river and the bridges, lit up like strands of diamonds. She needed the coolness of the glass, the quiet of the vista. As she neared it, her reflection grew clearer, a woman with dark hair swept into an elegant knot, eyes that held a tired intelligence, a mouth that hadn’t truly smiled all night.

“I guess it’s time we have that talk. Let me freshen up first. Wait for me in the patio with snacks on hand.” Before I could even blink, he was gone. I didn’t even hear the door open and close. I scoured the fridge for anything to eat. I ended up making a salad sandwich. Satisfied with my craft, I picked up a plate and walked past the living room. I peered back at the rocking woman—she was motionless, eternally gazing at the window. What does she see beyond those liquid needles? I turned my attention to the wooden bench and saw the same woman behind the window. Only this time, she had shallow eyes, never blinking.

Looking away, I continue to walk, I don't need to see more. The second window is just like the first, however, there is a woman, naked, kneeling, with her arms bound behind her back. There is a man and a woman with her. Okay, I can cope with that. My mind is processing the thoughts really well, considering. Reaching the third window, I feel brave glancing inside. The room is dark, but you can clearly see a man and woman having sex, with women and men around watching, playing with themselves. I feel Jackson's pull on my hand.

As night falls, in the center of the city, a high-class residence on the top floor has no lights on, and there is no sound and silence inside. The door handle slowly turns and a tall man walks into the room. He stands in the doorway, adjusts to the darkness inside, and then scans the room. At the corner of the floor-to-ceiling window and the wall, a woman sat quietly, draped in a blanket, leaning lifelessly against the window. Her eyes were vacant, looking out the window as if a butterfly had been made into taxidermy.