WINDOW VIEWS - As Though Viewed From Afar

The note unnerved him. A small brown unaddressed envelope on the hall matt, nothing particularly unique about it. Inside a sharply folded piece of paper, which when opened out revealed a simple sentence printed in pencil - 'That's a nice sandwich' - was all it said. It perplexed him. He hadn't eaten a sandwich at home in many a week. So what the heck does this mean? Who was this person? If they were peeping where were they peeping from? The precision of its execution indicated to him, the writer was male. The sentence began to feel more euphemistic, a nudge nudge innuendo. From an admirer then? An admirer / stalker? As he dwelt on it further questions arose. Hide it away in a drawer. Ignore it. Maybe whoever this is will go away, if he gave it no energy. If he received another one, then he'd go to the police, he assured himself.

Two days later, another small brown envelope, this time with his name boldly printed on it - BEN.  The same style of excessively neat folded paper, which when unfolded revealed the pencilled message - '
You don't know how much pleasure you're giving me Ben ' 

'Ah, you creep, wanking over me are you?'. he conjectured

They must live near. He stood to the side of the window, trying not to be seen peering at the houses and flats across the road. Couldn't see a bloody thing during the day. Night time little better. He talked with his best buddy Alastair,who was quite insistent  -
'For goodness sake just phone the police, before this gets completely out of hand',
'Its just, I think I should have an idea who this is, what if its some one I know?' '
'It is a good idea mate to put a stop to this, right now'

He ignored Alastair's advice, he usually did. Didn't phone the police. Didn't wish to acknowledge why either.  He got a kinky kick out of these notes. Excitedly hanging out for the next one. It felt a dangerous thing he was doing, he knew that. He wasn't the one in control of what happened here. Who was he dealing with? If this all got way out of whack, how could he put a stop to it? Another small brown envelope lay on the matt the next morning. The message today read -
'You should linger by the window more, with your top off. Do it, knowing I'll love it.'
He thought about the message all day while at work. It wasn't a very productive today. By the time he got home there was a frisson of erotic excitement. He was going to do this. Setting up the lamps, deciding the positioning of furniture, what he was going to do. Daring himself to do this, just to prove he could.

Barely had he closed the curtains and begun to dress himself, there was a loud banging on his flat door. 'Mr Swayne, Mr Benjamin Swayne could you come to the door please. We don't want to have to break it down.' 
Ben slowly pulled the bolts back, dropped the latch. By the moment he was finished and opened the door, he was surrounded by police officers, his hands cuffed behind his back. Ben was in a panic, in amongst the noise, rough jostling, his rights being read. He was innocent, in his mind he'd done nothing wrong, this was no one else's business. Not fully grasping why he'd been arrested, until he asked the police directly during his interview back at the station.
'Well, Benjamin, we've just witnessed you exposing yourself to everyone in the street below, haven't we? Plus, for the last few weeks we've been made aware that you've been posting lewd notes to gentlemen in your neighbourhood. Do you remember or acknowledge that this is what has been going on, Ben? Isn't this exactly what happened the last time?' 

It was as though this was happening to someone else, someone he did not know.