The neighbor always enjoys the view.

You notice the neighbor's big tits first — full, heavy, barely contained as your eyes travel upward to find a knowing smile already waiting for yours.

You feel the heat before any touch happens, standing there with the afternoon light cutting across the space between you, your pulse doing something embarrassing and obvious.

You understand exactly what that look means, the one that says the window was never opened by accident, that the view was always meant for you specifically, arranged with quiet, deliberate intention.