THE VOYEUR

                            by

                        C. Lakewood



    It was a nice night, Jack thought.  Perhaps a bit warmer than 
normal for this time of year...at least the kids' costumes seemed 
lighter than usual.  He had to smile as he watched them scurry 
from house to house, collecting their loot.  He'd grown up in this 
town, and it was good to get back to the old neighborhood again.  

    Some things were unchanged.  The kids, for example, and their 
get-ups -- the majority home-made, with a few store-bought (but 
most of those clearly hand-me-downs).  Some things were different, 
though.  Even here, in suburban middle America, the kids had to be 
chaperoned, regardless of how old they were.  And he missed the 
aroma of burning leaves, so integral to his memories of autumn in 
his youth, before the EPA storm-troopers intervened.

    Groups of kids dashed past him as if he weren't there, intent 
on their own concerns.  He didn't mind, and he didn't recognize 
any of them.  Things change.  Drifting through the neighborhood, 
he wondered how much and in what way Sally had changed since he'd 
seen her last....

    Then three small figures -- a devil, a witch, and a skeleton -- 
romped noisily down the sidewalk and paused momentarily in front of 
a house...THE house...once HIS house.  Seeing that the porch light 
was off, they carried on down the street. 

    He and Sally hadn't had kids of their own, nor any nieces 
or nephews.  Halloween had been the one time of the year that, 
briefly, they could pretend differently.

    Sally....  During the six years since their separation, she 
had gone through several phases.  When he had visited the first 
time, she had been consoling herself with a bottle of vodka and 
a vibrator.  (He was concerned about the former, though he always 
enjoyed watching her use the latter....)

    The house was dimly lit inside.  It was also securely locked, 
but he could get in....

    On his second visit, she'd had company: an oily Don Juan she'd 
apparently met in a bar and who clearly preferred Greek.  Next 
time, there was a pair of husky biker-types -- with tattoos and 
piercings and funk -- who spent the evening doing a succession of 
DPs.  Jack was not too sure where Sally was headed, but he was 
incapable of doing anything other than watching and worrying.  And 
he did worry about her, despite his circumstances.

    He had to admit that the next guy, an 18-year-old supermarket 
stock clerk, was some improvement.  He was scrawny and pimply and 
22 years younger than Sally, but he was eager to learn...and eager 
to please...and reloaded so very quickly....

    The last time Jack had come by, however, she wasn't there -- 
and she'd stayed out all night.  He had left at dawn, miserable 
at not having seen her.  And now he was afraid that that would 
happen again.   

    To pass the time, he moved about the house.  Each time he 
visited, there were fewer things remaining that he and Sally 
had shared.  The massive Victorian sideboard was still there, 
thank God.  He'd always loved that -- and the items that were 
arranged on it: a Toby jug in the image of Winston Churchill, 
a miniature cannon in silver, and a parade of porcelain mugs 
commemorating five reigns.  

    The cannon was badly tarnished.

    The couch was new, and he didn't like it.  He'd always 
wanted a neat Chesterfield, not something that resembled a 
heap of Naugahyde bags full of...whatever.  

    He was looking askance at a wall of new pictures and shaking 
his head, when he heard voices approaching the house and, a moment 
later, a fumbling at the lock. 

    Concealed, he watched as two female figures lurched into the 
front room, giggling.  Sally threw off her windbreaker and flung 
herself, a-sprawl and gasping, onto the hideous new couch.  The 
other woman looked down at her and said, "Nah-nah, sweetie.  I 
want you naked.  So get stripped." 
 
    She was younger than Sally (though not as young as the grocery 
boy).  At first glance, she might have been in her early 20s, 
possibly a college girl.  With short auburn hair, freckles, and 
elfin features, she rather resembled Julianne Nicholson. 

    Quickly discarding her own jacket (a nice green suede one), 
she kicked off her penny-loafers and skinned out of her black 
jeans, leaving her in sweat socks, bikini panties, and a "Queen" 
t-shirt.  (Jack decided he could cut her some slack -- that was 
the only rock band he'd ever liked.) 

    She pulled off her socks, wiggled her toes, and then bent to 
undress Sally.  Shoes, socks, slacks, blouse, panties -- all went 
flying, this way or that, willy-nilly, quickly followed by the 
last of the girl's clothes.  Jack was surprised to see that Sally 
had no pubic hair now.    

    "Oooh, Beth.  I...ah...need an-other drinkee," Sally groaned, 
as the girl helped her to her feet.  They're a really enticing 
pair, Jack thought.  They were both about the same height (which 
was handy for them), but otherwise there was quite a contrast.  
Sally with dark hair (now touched with grey?), bedroom eyes, olive 
skin, and a few extra (but not unattractive) pounds...and the girl 
-- Beth -- slender, fair, coed-cute, but....  But Jack had learned 
to look beyond the surface.  And, beneath the girl's superficial 
softness, she had a hard edge.  Still, the surface was very easy 
on the eyes.

    They rubbed against each other, tit to tit and belly to belly, 
and Jack sighed inaudibly.  Geez, two-thirds of a threesome, hot 
and tipsy, every man's dream.  Back in the day, he'd have been on 
that in a flash.  But now....  Of course, back in the day, Sally 
hadn't been into that sort of thing.  Damn!

    Meanwhile, Beth had seated herself on the couch and pulled 
Sally down to kneel between her spread thighs.  Beth's cunt was 
hairless, too.  Nice!

    "Here you are, Momma," Beth purred.  "Drink up."

    Sally didn't have to be told twice.

    It was fascinating to watch Sally gobbling the girl so avidly.  
Sally's butt cheeks parted, and Jack could have sworn her asshole 
was winking at him.  He wondered how long Sally had been going 
down on girls.  Certainly this wasn't her first time with Beth.  
Had there been others?  Maybe.  Probably.

    And now the girl was cumming...repeatedly...loudly.  Sally 
never made much noise when she orgasmed, just a low hiss.  Beth, 
though, moaned and groaned and gibbered.  It was wonderful theatre. 

    Sally raised her head, her face smeared with Beth's juices.  
"Please, baby?"

    Beth smiled thinly -- or was it a sneer?  "Okay, Momma.  The 
hard way.  Right here.  Go fetch."      

    After a barely perceptible hesitation and a tiny whimper, 
Sally scrambled awkwardly to her feet and staggered off toward 
the bedroom, ass and tits jiggling enticingly.  When she returned, 
she was carrying some straps in one hand and a humongous black 
dildo in the other.  

    Beth deftly assembled the straps into a harness, attached 
the dildo, and buckled it on.  Sally immediately began mouthing 
the fake cock, giving it a slick coating of saliva.  

    Beth didn't wait long before raising a foot and using her toes 
to investigate Sally's cunt.  "Down on the floor, Mommy.  You're 
so wet now, you don't need any more spit on this thing."

    Obligingly, Sally dropped to a crouch and stuck her butt in 
the air.  Doggie style had always been her favorite position.  
But no one (not even the bikers) had ever fucked her as 
powerfully -- or as long -- as Beth proceeded to do.  She rode 
Sally relentlessly.  It went on and on, with Sally cumming and 
cumming and cumming, fucked into semi-consciousness, only to be 
revived by sharp slaps on her butt...and fucked some more.  She 
was babbling incoherently when Beth finally pulled out.

    "My knees are getting sore," she said, tartly.  "We'll 
re-locate to the bed."

    It took a moment for Sally to comprehend the words, but 
finally she heaved herself erect, swayed wearily, and then 
tottered off in the direction of the bedroom.  Beth swaggered 
after her.

    And Jack followed, discreetly.

		******************************

    Throughout the rest of that long night -- could it have been 
nine hours...or more? -- Sally and Beth would doze a while, until 
one or the other roused, and there would follow more licking 
and/or fucking.  And then they'd subside again...for a time.

    And Jack watched it all. 

    While it had been obvious, from the opening moments of the 
first scene, that Beth was the domme, during the course of the 
night Jack began to perceive that there was some real mutual 
affection between them.  Was it the sort of relationship that 
lasted?  He hadn't a clue.  But it might...it might.  And, even 
if it didn't, even if it shouldn't, there was the here and now.  
And that was something. 

    It made it easier to leave again, knowing that Sally finally 
had someone who just might be more than a mere one-night stand.    

		******************************    

    Jack knew that dawn was near and that it was almost time for 
him to go.  Taking one last look at the sleeping forms on the 
bed, he blew an unseen kiss at Sally and moved silently back 
toward the front of the house.     
 
    He stared into the hall mirror and concentrated.  Initially, 
there was nothing in it but the wall behind him.  Then, slowly, 
a shape -- his shape -- began to form.  A moment later, and he 
could recognize himself (in shades of grey at first, gradually 
shifting into full color), as he had been exactly six years ago, 
after a last-minute trip to the nearby convenience store to 
replenish the supply of treats.  He looked the same now as he 
had then, even the two crimson and black holes in the front of 
his white shirt, gifts from the idiot muggers who had destroyed 
one life and wrecked another for $27 cash, an unreliable 
wristwatch, and four large bags of M&Ms.

    But time was running out for another year.  He sighed, as his 
image in the mirror began to fade.  "Until next Halloween, Sally," 
he said, silently, a sad smile on his face....

    And then, like a dissipating puff of smoke, he was gone.