Will this stranger try to come into my apartment?

I froze. His bold stare held my eyes like a flickering line of fire. I began to shake, emotions swirling: fear, embarrassment, a hot flush of new excitement. I reached for the curtains and tugged them shut - waited like a little kid playing hide and seek, wondering when I'd hear the knock on my back door.

It didn't come. My heart settled back into a normal beat and finally, after what seemed like hours, I mustered enough courage to pull the curtain aside and peek out. No one there. I was relieved, but also a bit disappointed; somewhere inside my mind I was bent over my kitchen table while this strange guy took me from behind, slamming his lipstick-smeared cock into my pussy while I clawed at the table. That image stayed with me for many lonely weeks as I pleasured myself in the dark and sneaked to my window in the middle of the night to look out at the empty parking lot.

I'd almost forgotten that night when the first letter arrived. I nearly threw it in the garbage - no return address, no stamp, mixed with a load of junk mail - but it didn't look quite like junk so I opened it.

My hands shook; the envelope fell to the floor. A hot flush ate its way from the soles of my feet to the tip of my nose as I looked at the picture in my trembling hands. It was a bad picture, but undeniable. It was a picture of me - taken through my kitchen window - naked. My hands were out of sight below the windowsill but the expression on my face left little doubt as to what I was doing. Scrawled across the glossy finish were four words:

"I'll be back Julie."

There was a knock at my back door - I nearly jumped out of my skin, my heart quickened its pace as I stood, motionless, in the back hallway. The knock came again and I **** myself to calm down. I stuffed the picture under a pile of mail on the little table in the entranceway and opened the door.

It was Joel, my neighbor from across the parking lot.