Sounds carry unless something is there to block the sound waves sufficiently that they can no longer move forward unobstructed and unimpeded. This is a simple fact, one she understood.

At least when she was thinking clearly she understood this fact.

It was, unfortunately, quite a nice day outside. Spring, with only a little snow lingering in the shaded areas, dingy and looking like the vestiges of party decorations long after the party is over. The kind you wish had been thrown out long before so you would not have to look at them in sad recollection of the fate of decay that becomes us all. But it was a nice day, and she had the window open. None of that sad remnant of winter's grip showed, just sunshine. The curtains filtered the light, covering the window as it continued to allow fresh air to permeate the room.

It could have been the fresh air's fault.

More likely it was hardly a fault at all. It was to be expected, even hoped for. Let's be honest, it is very often hoped for. It was even quite memorable.

That's right. We are talking about sex. Those moments when the world disappears beyond the absolutely immediate and a person tends to forget anything beyond thoughts of just there or a little more or dear god in heaven if you stop I might have to kill you! Yeah. Thoughts like that.

Of course, there is also the fact that at times those thoughts get transmitted. Neural pathways are open enough that synapses fire, commands are sent, and despite the fact that one is not certain they could formulate any coherent statement certain thoughts are expressed rather audibly.

And sometimes a sound says more than any fully formulated sentence.

It was in the aftermath that she slowly became aware of something. A very particular something that made her feel a little uncomfortable. She was not quite sure why, but she knew it was true nonetheless. Something was just a little wrong. It put quite a crimp in her post-coital bliss.

Voices in the alley outside. Outside her window. The sound was loud, and all too clear. She could understand every word. A car started, and she could hear that too.


That window, that blissfully wonderful portal to the fresh air outside, to the cool breezes and sunshine. The window that was currently hidden from view behind the curtains she had ensured were drawn to hide the upcoming scene from the view of the outside world before she had let panting breaths and the heat of skin on skin steal her thoughts.

The window that was open.

As she lay there, her cheek pillowed on that perfect dip just above the armpit, the one made for resting her head, she remembered things. A rhythmic sound coming through her window from outside, a breathy and insistent noise that was all too identifiable, one that most would recognize. At least it had been in the dead of night when she should have been sleeping, when the world could forgive such things easily. During the time of secrecy and dreams. She was well aware of just how well sound carried through her window and just how easy it was to identify certain vocal projections and cycles.

The light that managed to steal its way around the edges of her curtain made it quite clear that it was the middle of the afternoon, a fact reinforced by the surreptitious glance at the watch that still graced her wrist, the watch that was sticking to skin still heated from glorious exertion. Skin that was starting to cool in the spring breeze that also found its way through that open window.

Lying there, she wondered if she was ever going to go outside again.

But all in all, it was still worth it. The satiated smile that curved her lips attested to that, and she snuggled in just a little closer.

The End

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