Tom, Peeping.

The coffee cup was drained of its last dregs. Tom sucked on the polystyrene, leaving teeth marks on the edge. He cast it aside onto the floor of the back seat. He couldn’t risk pissing in public in the alleyway adjacent to his car. The foot traffic was heavy and this neighbourhood was respectable.

Bella was due home anyhow. He would have to leak into a large empty two litre bottle and concentrate on the job at hand. As Tom fished around the floor underneath the drivers’ seat, he heard the distinctive click of her heels on the pavement.

His window was ajar and the waft of garlic and rosemary from nearby Italian restaurants filled the air. A light breeze tickled the branches on the trees, now fully in peak summer’s bloom.

He checked the battery on the long lens. It was full. The short range handheld was three quarters full. His notepad and pen sat on the passenger seat, on top of the greasy wrapper from the local sandwich delicatessen. Tom pulled his glasses from the top of his head and placed them over his eyes. It was time for work.

He first noted the time of Bella's arrival. She was on time, as per usual. Her long, slender legs climbed the eleven steps to her front door. Her navy blue suit and three inch heels complimented her fine shapely figure. Her jacket was unbuttoned at the front.

Tom clicked away on his camera, catching a brief glimpse of her torso through her fluttering blouse as she turned the key in the front door of the brownstone. She held the door open while she disabled the alarm system.

Her dark brown hair was released from the tight grasp of her clip as she entered the front living room. She stood for a moment in front of the window, running her fingers through her tousled, wavy locks. Tom continued to click away, revelling in the fact that this was easily the most satisfying stakeout he ever had. Her husband obviously had his reasons for suspecting her of infidelity.

She left the living room and her shadow informed him that she was venturing upstairs. Curtains were drawn in the bedroom, leaving the imagination to wonder in the world of silhouettes. Slowly, she undressed.

The extractor fan began to spew out steam from the master suite. Almost ten minutes later, her shape reappeared. Tom was sure he could make out her brushing her hair, sitting at her bureau.

Tom continued to make notes. After almost one hour upstairs, she returned downstairs to the kitchen. She poured a large glass of red wine and proceeded to make some phone calls.

A delivery boy from one of the local restaurants skipped up the steps at a little before 10pm. She answered the door in a plain white silk dressing gown, which continued to accentuate her ample bosom. The delivery boy noticed it too, tipping his hat in the air as he descended the steps.

Tom noted the constant flicker of a television screen as the night began to draw in. Bella walked around switching off lights, before retiring to bed just at 11.30pm. She then reset the internal alarm. A nearby car slammed shut, stirring Tom as he himself began to think about drifting off.

Bella wandered around her bedroom for approximately five minutes before finally extinguishing the her bedside lamp. Tom took one final picture with his time stamp before turning the key in the ignition of his beat up Toyota.

Then he heard a scream come from the direction of her bedroom.

Then he saw the briefest flash of light. It then flashed twice more.

Muzzle flashes. But no sound of gunfire.

Tom scooted down in his seat and angled his long lens on the house. He shot a rapid burst from the camera.

He captured the shot of the man who had employed him in the first place.

He was briskly walking directly toward Tom’s car.

Tom’s foot suddenly searched for the gas pedal.