“It’s show time!” Jeff said, but we didn’t need the reminder. At least three nights a week our routine was the same. We turned the lights off and sat in darkness, waiting.
Across the way, the curtains were open, the bay window fogged from the shower. She came into the room, wrapped in a towel, brushing her long dark hair. The towel dropped to the floor and she turned slowly as if admiring herself. Tall, with long legs, slim hips, a small bottom, pale breasts.
“She knows we’re watching,” Jeff said.
And with that, she raised her hand to wave.