As he watched her walk past.
He craved for her body as men crave for all the riches of the world.
How he would have loved to graze every part of her picturesque body with his lips.
With his eyes following her back, down the road, slowly, he wiped the panic from his forehead.
He loved to watch her travel home from work and and disappear through her front door.
He loved to sit in front of her house until her bedroom light went out.
He longed to see where and how she slept and how angelic her body was.
Just a step through a door was holding him back from his most desired dwelling.
And he knew this.
The next few days he planned as he watched her.
And one night he climbed through the porthole from which he looked in from outside to notice she was in the shower.
The warm mist levitated up from under the door.
With his heart racing, he opened the door at a snail's pace.
He knew all about her; the way she moved; the way she talked. Why wouldn’t she be happy if he was in there? He pondered upon her puzzling beauty like an astrologer to the stars. And as the sweet, thick air floated against his face, he opened the door and saw the bare purity of his wildest fantasies.