The story of fate and destiny Chapter 8 The Mother Writing in progress. If you
“Voyeurism is considered to be the most common sexual law-breaking behaviour in general populations“
Frank was waiting for the right moment. His unsteady eyes darted back and forth the hall way. A few distance away he heard footsteps and what seem a non distinct voice of a young intern, who was pacing about the corridor with a phone to his right ear. Frank froze.
He couldn’t risk being seen, for the perfect time to sneak a peek into the female rest room was now.
It was 8A.M. The exact time when most ladies at the office often visited the restroom for an early morning wee, make-up, or dump. The ladies turned up in good numbers and took turns to use the toilet booths. Sultry jokes, banters, and formal pleasantries were traded in the confines of the toilet unabashed. Sometimes it was as noisome as a market place; at other times it was as quiet as a graveyard.
In the restroom some ladies dashed in hastily to freshen up and adjust their undies, pushing bras up a notch for effect, while others adjusted dresses low enough to give a good glimpse of their velvety smooth skin as it rounded in twin mounds of flesh. Like a delectable meal, he savoured every moment as he hid away quietly in one of the stalls peeking for his pleasure.
It was time of the day he relished with gusto, and this high-pitched moment was always a delight.
Frank knew he had to get into the toilet as soon as the idiot on phone left the corridor. He recalled the last time on his exploits; he had had an eyeful, and so he was hopeful of more that morning.
“Why is he taking so long?”, he thought. “Some people speak too long on the phone!”. He could almost hear himself protest feebly.
He turned his gaze quickly to see if anyone was coming, for he didn’t like loitering about the corridor, it could easily give him away.
That morning, the corridor was empty, save for this intern who appeared hell bent on botching his moment.
Frank started to position with unease.
Frank was a masturbator; and to fuel his addiction he spent hours on end in the female lavoratory at his workplace every day that he may ogle at different ladies who came into the restroom to do their bit. He did so right in the toilet stall where, like a stowaway, he docked.
On each floor of the building, where he worked as a chauffeur, there was a restroom. The restrooms were located around stairwell area of the multi-storey building that housed over 250 employees.
The area was densely trafficked, for it also opened into the twin elevator compartment, where everyone who avoided the stairs would take flight.
Down the hallway access doors into the male and female toilets faced each other, with conspicuous signs -hung at eye level- showing gender for which each facility was intended for. It was inexcusable for anyone mistake one for the other.
Several months earlier when Frank first ran into a lady in the female restroom on the first floor, during one of his voyeur-feasting moments, he claimed to be a first-timer and a new employee with no idea of the building layout that he lost his way and hadn’t noticed the signs on the door.
Lame excuse. But the half naked lady he barged on was somewhat considerate to let him out of the restroom without fuss, even though she disbelieved him. Something about his hungry eyes tipped her off but she let it slide.
The second time that he ran into another lady at the rest room was on the third floor. The fair skinned and cute little woman had the most sumptuous breast he had seen in the building. He was out of luck.
She looked at him, as though her eyes were cutting him to size, with absolute disgust before letting out a contemptuous hiss followed by sputum of spit aimed at his feet. She missed.
He had hurried off without uttering a word, but his pleading eyes begged her so desperately to keep his secret.
Since that day, he never dared to look that cute lady in the eye, ever again. Whenever she walked past him at the office cafeteria on the ground floor, he would turn his face down and pretend to be busy.
She paid him no attention either, but it didn’t deter him. He thought he was just unlucky.
Somehow, he secretly wished he would see her in the restroom again soon. For this reason, he frequented the third-floor restroom in hope that he could get a good glimpse of her overflowing bosom.
Since those two incidences, he enjoyed a smooth run that went on for months in his exploits for sexual gratification, voyeurism and satisfaction.
On his expeditions, whenever he made his way successfully into an empty restroom, he would lock himself in the middle stall and patiently wait for someone to walk in.
The sound of the extractor fan that worked tirelessly in the restroom was his only companion occasionally interrupted by gush of flushing water, after the occupant had unlocked the stall to wash up.
Sometimes when he slept in his bed at night, the sound of the extractor fan was music in his dreams.
At first, he peeked from the adjacent stalls by propping himself up and hanging uncomfortably on the light-weight dry wall that partitioned the stalls. He used the toilet bowl as prop to ensure stability. This didn’t get him the best views, especially when he had to stay quiet and still, so he was unnoticed while at it. It was a bad idea.
He devised a better plan; recording his victims with the use of his phone. To avoid getting caught, he would put the phone on silence before making his move.
And so, he started filming his victims for sexual pleasure. In his head, they were now his unpaid “actresses” auditioned into short movies scenes, which he uploaded and posted on porn sites that worshipped voyeurism. What a delight!
Soon enough, he got popular, as his videos trended, garnering over 200,000 views. In consolation to the views, he received tons of comments from equally deranged fans, many encouraging him to get a closer look and to use the zoom-in feature whenever his “actresses” showed more skin.
With this, he improved his recording skills. He tweaked the features on his phone to allow better lightning and clearer view while in the poorly lit restroom. He was getting better at video editing and recording as he even took short online courses on You-tube to improve his filmmaking skills.
His voyeurs videos were popular enough that porn sites queued them up on its home page for new visitors. He even received emails urging him to get his page views into the millions, so he could start earning in dollars- an opportunity that pleased him so greatly, and he was determined to seize it.
Who could have thought that he could make money while pleasuring himself? He felt like a king. The King of Voyeurism!
To improve his craft, he purchased a new smartphone with its dual camera quality rivalling the more expensive mainstream brands.
He took it up a notch when he procured an additional memory card with a terabyte capacity to store the several short videos he recorded when the ladies undressed in the stalls, so he could review the scenes later in his one-room apartment while in the dark with his hands fondling his turgid penis.
The female rest room had four stalls, each with a door and a latch to secure the occupant as they sat briefly on the white throne.
The partitions between each stall was high enough to conceal the identity of the user, but not tall enough to prevent Frank, whose two legs were placed carefully astride the toilet bowl, armed with his phone, from taking a good peek at his victims.
Most times, he watched as the ladies undressed their tight attires revealing carelessly their brassieres and panties. Sometimes he would be treated to a view of their naked breast, while at other times he listened to their boring conversations on phone with lovers when they shared intimate secrets. For these ones, he had regular customers and their presence never excited him.
At the worst times, he suffered the indignation of the putrid smell of their fart as they emptied their bowels. For those moments, he held his breath for as long as his lungs would let him.
“What do these ladies eat?” He told himself.
He thought they were just disgusting.
Occasionally, during his waiting game, he would doze off, chiding himself repeatedly for snoring as soon as the door to the next stall swing opened.
Outside the toilet stalls, was a long-extended white wall-mounted wash hand basin and a crystal-clear mirror that offered a welcome view even to the weary.
The ladies spent an awful lot of time cleaning their faces and applying make-up in front of the mirror. He wished someone could break the mirror into smithereens so the ladies could focus on the business of using the toilet only. For his pleasure.
In his head, even in his sleep Frank could re-draw the floor plan of the rest room. He had spent countless hours sitting in the middle stalls waiting for his next victim as they choose the stall next to his.
With bated breath, he would anticipate every move as they unzipped, unbuttoned and pulled their panties down to take a leak. If they lingered long enough, he would extend his phone camera into the stall and capture or record the “glorious moment”. His mood determined which option worked.
The corridor was largely empty save for the intern that was still on phone.
He had to be careful, so he bided time. He had studied all the location of the CCTV indoor cameras and had mastered the art of walking in the shadows or in its blindside, a routine movement he had perfected from over months of practice.
He waited, until the fellow on the phone ended the call before walking into the male rest room.
That was his golden moment!
He dashed swiftly across the shadows as though heading into the male restroom, before he made a clever duck, and opened the door into his pleasure arena.
Yet another triumphant entry. He grinned.
His heartbeat raced as he took deep breaths savoring the female perfume that lingered within the stalls. He caught a glimpse of himself as he walked past the mirror that competed with his victim’s attention.
He didn’t like how he looked, like he hadn’t slept much. He woke up late that morning and barely had his bath before he raced to drive his boss to the office that morning.
His thoughts were fleeting as he opened his favorite waiting spot – the middle stall where he took position.
A bevy of ladies walked in few minutes later chattering excitedly as they gossiped about a new employee who had asked one of them out on a date.
Frank didn’t like it when these “small small girls” came into the rest room. They were “bad market”.
They came in to gossip and nothing more.
When the noisy bunch left, two ladies walked in at separate times and locked the doors to the stalls next to his as he positioned himself to feast.
That was when he first noticed the rat. The ominous creature paused to take a good look at him. Not once did he encounter a rat while on his mission on any floor, but this one was quite big and daring.
“Who was more of the unwelcomed guest? The rat or himself?”, he wondered.
In his reasoning, he had a good argument for his mission in the female restroom. It was for the good of mankind, his patrons who enjoyed the content he uploaded at porn sites and professed their love for his amateur work.
“What argument did this Thairy disgusting creature have?”, he sneered.
Pungent smell of rotten beans from the occupant in the next stall coated his nostrils with disgust, but he was unable to cover his nose as his right hand held on tightly to the phone as it recorded the source of the smell, while the other leaned on the wall.
The rat stared at him, unmoved.
Frank didn’t like it.
Then it started to move, hesitant at first before darting forward.
He detested rats, mice and anything that crawled with eyes on both side of its nose. They made him cringe.
“What did they call it?”
The rat moved again, gunning for his toe. The sound of his heartbeat was so loud, he wondered if the ladies in the next stall could hear it. He alone could hear the sound of his blood, transporting fear from his toes, all around his body, to his fingers -the same one that held the phone.
Frank lost his balance and Humpty dumpty had a great fall. The two partitions caved in, right into the ladies as they sat about their business, his phone landed on one of the ladies head.
The loud shriek and scream from the ladies was because they had just seen a man in the female restroom. But the scream from Frank was because the stupid rat darted from his toe to his trousers and into the toilet bowl, spluttering water as it struggled from drowning.
He screamed even louder than both ladies.
So, there was no surprise when news spread quickly like wildfire that a man had been caught in the female restroom.
The two ladies, scared to their wit, raced out of restroom barely clothed while Frank scrambled after them in a bid to avoid the shame of being found out. As he got close to the door, one of the ladies slammed it shut behind her, right on his nose. She held on to the door screaming her lungs out until the security outfit got to the scene.
Frank was stuck in the female restroom.
Scores of employees watched as the disgraced driver was handcuffed out of the building. He had received the beating of a lifetime. That same one appointed to all men of his kind, only once.
He bled on his head and could barely work. The heels of several shoes had left their mark on his body. Some ladies claimed that he had molested them, others claimed they had met him in the other restrooms months earlier. Some remembered the way he undressed them with his eyes when ever they walked past him.
But the one that irked them the most, was the revelation that he had been posting the videos on porn sites. One lady had seen it showing her dressed in one of her favorite work attires, but without showing her face. She stopped wearing that dress to the office for that reason after wondering for weeks who had done such an abominable act. Knowing that no one would ask her what she was doing looking through porn sites, she showed his porn page and account to everyone who cared to watch. He was called, His Royal Highness, The Voyeur king.
The madness went up several notches afterwards.
As he was escorted out of the building into the waiting police van, Frank wondered if there was a remote chance he could see naked women to ogle at while doing time in prison.
If there was no such opportunity, how then would he feed his addiction, if only so that he would at least earn some money in dollars?
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