The Voyeur, An Erotic Novel

By Paul Preston

Mark Wilson, an attractive, shy and perverted man is addicted to staring at the nude bodies of women. His carnal desires lead to the loss of his job and the dissolution of his marriage. In order to satisfy his lust he opens up a topless bar, on the wrong side of town, called The Voyeur. As his business grows he replaces the wall between his office and the women’s dressing room with a see-through mirror so he can watch to his heart’s content the waitresses as they change their clothes before and after their shifts. When Anne-Marie Millot, a pretty, much younger French woman, applies for a job he is instantly smitten. She discovers Mark’s secret. His obsession spirals out of control as his affection for Anne-Marie grows. After learning about her true identity from a corrupt police Detective, Mark takes Anne-Marie on a visit to her previous employer, Heaven’s View Stables, a horse farm in the mountains, owned by a wealthy old man, Woodsen. There he discovers Anne-Marie is not the women she seems and Mark must overcome his perversion in order to help his friend.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pink Flamingo Media LLC
• Release date: Aug 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781945648366

Paul Preston

Paul Preston is Principe de Asturias Professor of Iberian History at the LSE, and was head of the International History Department there for several years. He is regarded as the leading historian of twentieth-century Spain alive.

Book preview

The Voyeur

An Erotic Novel

by Paul Preston

ISBN: 978-1-945648-36-6

A Pink Flamingo Media Ebook

Copyright ©2017 Paul Preston

Smashwords Edition

Chapter One

The Voyeur

For as long as I can remember I have lived my life in the shadows, gazing at the flesh of women. As a man needs air to breathe or water to drink, I crave to see the soft cleavage of a woman’s breasts or the vulnerable spot of her backside where the perfectly rounded halves of her cheeks touch. The sight makes my heart race, my palms sweat. The sound of her heels clicking on the floor pricks my soul. Her musky scent makes me dizzy, as if I am swept out to sea. I have told my story to no one until now.

I’ve tried to conceal this obsession of mine. I thought if I could devote myself to one woman and direct my passion to her alone, it would ease the constant burden of this lust I carry like a heavy weight in my heart. I eventually met a woman at the bank where I work while arranging a business loan for her. The ruse of my position as a responsible loan officer allowed us to strike up an innocent friendship. I fell in love and we married after dating for over a year. The entire time I kept my perversion a complete secret from her.

Early on in the relationship, I was happy for a time. I especially enjoyed watching my wife dress for work in the mornings or undress as she prepared for bed at night. The bonds of matrimony gave legitimacy to my obsession. Since we were married, it seemed perfectly appropriate to watch my wife disrobe. One could even say it was an act of devotion on my part. I would sit quiet and unashamed in the dark corner of our bedroom, mesmerized by the slow, innocent striptease she inadvertently gave me every evening. I gazed at her, breathless, falling a little bit more in love with her each time she removed an article of clothing, exposing her body only for me. Seeing her standing in the middle our bedroom in her red bra and panties was always the most sensual part of my day. I would imagine grabbing her around the waist, tying her to the bedposts, ripping off her panties and spanking my wife until her ass turned beet red, but I never shared my fantasies with her. I was always too ashamed to tell her.

Unfortunately, my pleasure was short-lived. My wife admitted it made her feel uncomfortable to be watched so intensely in her moments of privacy. I apologized for staring and told her it was difficult for me to look away from such a charming and attractive woman. Despite my compliments, she started changing her clothes in the bathroom. Soon thereafter, I only saw my wife’s body in brief morning snippets, usually after she took a shower and before she picked out her clothes for the day. I would see a calf here, an exposed thigh there, or a momentary peek at the luscious cream-colored side of her breast as she turned away to tighten the bath towel around her torso. Even those rare moments fed the lust within me, like crumbs thrown to a starving man.

As the first few years of my marriage passed, I kept my desires locked away as best I could and committed to the tedious rituals of life. I got up in the morning, dressed, had coffee, went to work at the bank, sold loans, came home, ate dinner with my wife, undressed, went to bed and then did the same thing all over again the next day. When I had the chance, I would steal quick furtive glances at other women, in my discreet manner, to feed this insatiable hunger inside me.

Despite the veneer of self-control, my condition only worsened. My wife became quite angry when she caught me looking at other women and my addiction became a major issue in our relationship. We tried marriage counseling, joined a church. She even went with me to see a psychiatrist. When asked by the physician why I was so compelled to stare at women, I replied that I didn’t know. My response only frustrated my wife further. The doctor referred me to a 12 Step Program for Sex and Love Addicts. But even standing up in front of a group of strangers to make the disgraceful admission that I was a Sex and Love Addict made no difference. No Higher Power could save me now. The cancer had spread throughout my soul. The visual stimulation of a woman was as essential to me as the blood that pumped through my cold blue veins. There was nothing I could do to cure my perversity.

As my marriage crumbled, I would often go several weeks before my wife allowed me to be intimate with her. During this time I would occasionally resort to watching pornography on the internet. Curiously, I never found the monotonous scenes of raw sex and fake moaning of the actresses very erotic. It was nowhere near as exciting and sensual as stealing quick looks at my shy pretty wife in the privacy of our bedroom, but the cheap videos served to soothe my cravings.

One afternoon on my day off my wife returned unexpectedly and caught me looking at pornography on my computer. She became quite irate, calling me a dirty man and shouting that I had humiliated her for the last time. Though I pleaded for her forgiveness, she asked me to leave the apartment we had shared during the three years of our marriage. Ashamed, I did as she requested. I packed a few things and moved into a hotel room.

After a few days apart I desperately needed to see my wife. I called her to apologize for my behavior, hoping her anger had cooled. I thought we could try starting over by going out on a romantic date again, as if we had first met. She told me, in what I thought was a friendly manner, that she still needed more time to think things through. I apologized once again and told her how much I missed her. When our call ended, she said goodbye to me in a kind voice. It gave me hope for the future.

I played a fantasy over and over in my mind where we would meet for dinner and she would tell me she had found it in her heart to forgive me. We would go back home and she would undress in front of me in our bedroom while I watched, just as she had done at the beginning of our marriage.

A week into our separation I thought perhaps enough time had passed. I called to ask for her forgiveness again, pleading with her to take me back. I suggested we meet at our favorite Italian restaurant where we had always celebrated our wedding anniversary. In our time apart I had learned my lesson, I told her. I promised never again to look at pornography or another woman. Like a drug addict going through withdrawal, I needed my fix. I would do or say anything if I could catch even a fleeting glimpse of my wife’s body once more. I had difficulty sleeping, felt out of sorts emotionally and it took all the self-control I could muster not to break down with her over the phone.

Please take me back, honey. I miss you terribly, please, I begged.

That’s when she told me she had become involved with another man. In a rather cold tone of voice she told me her lawyer would soon be in touch with me to work out the details of our divorce. She asked me to never call or speak to her again. If there was something I wished to say to her, I was instructed to call her lawyer from now on and he would pass the message on to her. I felt the air escape my body, as if a hole had been drilled through my chest.

Divorce… I don’t understand… I love you, honey… I don’t want a divorce… I -

Then she hung up. That was it. Our four year relationship ended in a thirty second phone call.

I could hardly blame my wife for leaving me, but still it was a rather painful and shocking way to end our marriage. In just over one week she had already become intimate with another man. How could it have happened? Was she already involved with this person? Was catching me on the pornographic web site just an excuse to get rid of me? During the time we were together, I had never been unfaithful to her. How long had she been unfaithful to me? In the end, it hardly mattered. My wife left me. My marriage was over.

After the divorce I fell into a deep depression, blaming myself for the failure of my marriage. I tried to carry on with my life as best I could.

Three months after our separation I called my ex-wife on her cell phone just to hear the sound of her voice again. Maybe the relationship she had with the person she met didn’t work out. I still held on to the fantasy that we could start over and she would fall in love with me again.

As soon as she heard my voice she hung up on me.

To embarrass myself further, I tried calling her back a week later. I had prepared a pathetic speech that started with the words, Please don’t hang up. I just want to talk to you for a moment. When I called again I got a recorded message that her phone number had been disconnected and there was no further information available about the number.

That evening my life went from bad to worse. I started experiencing an extremely bad headache. I had headaches before, but nowhere near this painful. I took the strongest aspirin I could buy over the counter, but rather than going away the throbbing pain intensified. It was so bad all I wanted to do was get in bed, shut off the lights and pass out.

After sleeping fitfully for a few hours I awoke in the middle of the night with an even more terrible headache, the most intense pain I’ve ever experienced in my life. It was unbearable. I tried to stand up and get some water but immediately felt nauseous and dizzy. It was dark in my bedroom and when I tried to turn on a light, I realized I had left the hallway light on. When I looked directly at the light it stung my eyes and made the pain worse. All the objects in my room, my TV, dresser, night stand and book shelf, looked blurry to me. I saw c-shaped spots and flashing lights. My vision appeared like I was looking out through a sheet of cracked glass. As the pain intensified, my eyesight grew dim to the point I was unable to see anything but shadows in the center of my vision. I became frightened I was dying or going mad. In a panic I fumbled around the room like a blind man, knocking items off the bed stand while looking for my cell phone. I lay down in my bed with my eyes wide open, but seeing practically nothing from one side.

Thankfully, after about 40 minutes, my sight returned and my headache and dizziness subsided. When I felt well enough to drive, I went to the local emergency room to see if I could find out what had just happened. The ER Doctor referred me to a Neurologist. He asked if I had a family history of migraine headaches and I said I didn’t know. He asked if I ever had these symptoms before and I told him it was the first time I had such a horrible headache. After the exam, the Neurologist told me I had just experienced what he called an ocular migraine. I asked