Catherine Townsend: Sleeping Around

I'm not sure if it's the jet lag from my recent trip to the US or the stress of having to explain to my ex-boyfriend that I'm now dating his son, Alasdair, but my insomnia is back. I discovered long ago that masturbation beats hot milk as a sleep aid, so I was surfing for internet porn at 3am when I noticed my very hot neighbour, dressed only in an unbuttoned shirt and briefs, also working on his computer.

He lives in the basement flat next door, on the floor below mine, and has glass doors to his terrace, so I have a perfect view into his front room. Because I don't have blinds, all that separates me from him is a filmy white curtain.

I couldn't concentrate with him in my line of sight, so I crept up to the window to see what he was up to, and to smoke a stealth cigarette. As I opened the window he looked up, our eyes met and something electric passed between us. We smiled, and I waved briefly and looked away, embarrassed.

We surreptitiously checked each other out a few more times, but I was too shy to take things further. On subsequent evenings, I turned my back but purposely undressed in view of the window, allowing him to see a flash of nipple. In return, I saw him wandering into his kitchen shirtless several times.

I've always had voyeurism and exhibitionism fantasies, and this wasn't a pixelated image on a screen: this was a real, live one-on-one peep show.

I was too shy to take things further until I came in very drunk after a party and turned my bedroom lights on. I considered doing a striptease, but knew I would probably fall over, so went for the next best thing.

I took a long, hot shower and stood in front of my window, wrapped in my towel and willing him to appear.

A few minutes later he emerged and walked directly in front of his window, and my heart was racing. This was crazy, but for some reason, I was compelled to let the towel slowly drop to my waist and, eventually, the floor. He pulled his shorts down, and after a couple of minutes of trying to avoid his gaze our eyes locked, and we started to touch ourselves.

I couldn't exactly see what happened next inside his darkened flat, but the idea of him getting off watching me was enough to bring me to an explosive climax.

"You should get in touch with this guy!" said my friend Victoria. The thought had occurred to me. Because Alasdair lives in Los Angeles most of the time, we've agreed to keep things casual for now, so I am allowed to date other men. But I think the best thing about the nocturnal naughtiness with my neighbour is the complete fantasy element.

And if Alasdair comes to visit, I'll definitely have to install those window blinds. Unless, of course, he's into being watched as well...