Sighting In

Across the street and down just a little bit from our Victorian house there is a pink two-story apartment building. In my opinion it's an eyesore thanks to the bright pink paint some idiot decided to cover the structure with. I hate pink. On the roof of their building a swank penthouse suite remains uninhabited and abandoned. Years ago I walked over to speak with the apartment manager about renting the penthouse out, but I was immediately rebuffed by him as he claimed it was a fire hazard. I doubted he was telling the truth about the penthouse being a potential fire problem, rather I suspect he was content to use it as a large storage room for his own personal use. The only reason it would be a fire hazard is because he has the suite crammed with cardboard boxes and dozens of old wooden chairs.

I can see alot of what goes on in that building from my bedroom. At night with the lights out anyone on the street below or in the apartment buildings across from us can't see anything in my room. I have no curtains. It's just a void of nothingness due to the black paint I used in here on the ceiling and walls. Sometimes, I sit in my easy chair facing the street while sipping a glass of red wine or drinking beers. I peer into the lives of people living inside the pink building. One of the tenants on the second floor seems to feel completely safe from prying eyes. She rarely if ever draws her curtains closed and she stays up late into the night scurrying around the rooms of her flat doing whatever. On slow nights she provides me with a small amount of people-watching entertainment.

Usually every evening when she arrives home from work she gets into a little spandex workout number and proceeds to jump all over the living room like a crazed candy raver on ecstasy. I don't find her attractive, so I'm not sitting here in my room with a huge boner pulling on it while she flaunts her hind quarters in my general direction. More than anything else I observe and laugh at her.

With my glasses on I don't see far away all that great. The distance to her apartment is at the point where my vision begins to get fuzzy. I can see pretty well enough to know what's going on over there though. Anyway tonight I had an idea that seemed evil, yet fun. I had to try my idea out on my poor, unsuspecting neighbor. For my new rifle I bought a rubber armored sniper scope that mounts to the upper receiver cover plate. It has an adjustable zoom on the lenses. Why not try it out on the Mexican jumping bean across the street in her apartment? I went into my other room and came back with the scope and my rifle. In just a few seconds I removed the regular upper receiver cover plate and replaced it with the new one which has a scope rail built in. I had already installed the optics to the new cover, but I hadn't assembled it on the rifle yet.

Plunking myself back down into my easy chair and with the lights in my bedroom still out, I made the switcheroo and locked everything into place. I took the lens covers off and hoisted my rifle tight into my shoulder and up to eye level. I still had an empty thirty round magazine placed in the receiver. As I peeked through the optics of the scope and the tiny black crosshairs came into focus I had a hell of a time getting my bearings on that apartment building. As I squirmed around in my seat, the sight picture I had in the scope flew by in a rapid blur and I had no idea what I was looking at. I quickly learned to try to stay as still as possible and make careful, slow, sweeping movements while using the scope.

By the time I finally found my way along the outer wall of the building to the woman's apartment windows, she was gone. Fuck! The lights were on over there, but I saw no movement. No action. I was fascinated with how clear and in focus everything appeared though. I could see the framed pictures on her apartment walls and what kinds of plants she had in the window sills. I used the window frames as reference points and began checking out what I could find in her kitchen, to the left. I saw everything. Cans and bottles were placed neatly on her countertops and I could easily determine what brands of items they were. This scope is pretty good, I thought to myself and I chuckled. The lights were off in her kitchen but what little light flowed in from the living room was enough for me to be an effective Peeping Tom.

Movement in the livingroom caught my attention, so I swept the rifle steady to the right and zoomed the scope back into focus once again. There she was, standing perfectly still in a shiny light cream colored silk nightgown. She was facing with her back towards the apartment windows and she was looking at something intently that was out of my field of view. She turned slightly to the left so I could plainly see her breasts under the thin silk cloth. Then she began to slowly and gently pet her tits. I thought she must have gone wacky and I couldn't figure out what the hell she was doing. Suddenly it hit me. My neighbor was feeling herself up in front of a wall mirror! I laughed like a maniac and when I regained my composure I put the crosshairs right over her heart. I smiled, and pulled the trigger. The hammer fell forward and struck nothing, a hollow mettalic thud sounded from inside the rifle. While my neighbor stood there like an idiot playfully tinkering with her cleavage, she had been placed squarely in sniper crosshairs.

What she doesn't know won't hurt her...