Nothing. Zilch. Nothing I could salvage, even with the hardest highest-contrast paper I could find. It was hopeless. I felt like shit. Like failure. D...d wouldn't have approved, I'm sure of that.Just a fuckup. That's what it felt like and that's what it was. So, no, I didn't cry, but I felt like it. I solved it the way I'd solved so many similar things over the years: I cut it out of my life. I told myself it was because I was bored with it, that I hated darkroom work, that I was only doing it. I pull my tummy in and the shorts slide down to my knees, revealing my panties. Oh God, I hope he is watching.I kick the shorts off altogether. There is no law against standing on my own balcony in my panties, but even so, the knowledge that there is at least one pair of eyes watching creates a slightly illicit thrill which adds fo my arousal. I continue the window cleaning, still stretching upwards to reach the highest part.From in front, where he can’t see my hands, I am pulling the. More

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