Emerging from the tub, I briskly towel off and stalk toward my bedroom to locate my phone. There’s a new message from him.
The Stalker: How are you feeling, beautiful?
Ignoring his question, I type out the reason I vacated the bath so quickly. Hitting send, before rereading. “Damnit!” Spellcheck corrected my words.
Cindel: You ducker! You put a tracker inside me?
No one means to say ducker!They really need to update phone software to include profanity!
Dots appear, then his response follows.
The Stalker: Technically it wasn’t “in” you.
I retort,
Cindel: Semantics.
Another text appears almost instantly.
The Stalker: Do you like it?
Well, I did before I knew I was the equivalent to a sea turtle, being tagged and tracked off the Atlantic. I was livid and turned on? Just fucking conflicted… unsure how to reply.
My sheets are currently rolled into a messy ball. I kind of liked when they were made up, tucked neatly into the corners. It’s more inviting… warmer. A smile now plays on my lips, but I remember how scared I was when I first found him stretched out in my bed. Dressed in a towel, no less. When I close my eyes, the smokey stare finds me… no trepidation under his assessment, but something closer to tenderness… he almost reminds me of Kingston. Just a big dopey dog who means well, but can’t help tugging roughly on the rope when you play or drooling onto the floor when you present his meal. I replay the moments his gaze transitioned from measured to unbridled as he plunged inside me… fucking me until I saw stars. Was this tracker just another screwy way of showing me he cared? I did enjoy the sensation of fullness. Intensity paired with his ability to play my body like a fucking instrument. I’m never going to forget the things we did together in that boathouse.
My phone vibrates with another message.
The Stalker: Seems like you need more time to think in it.
What? I think he meant, “on.” Before I can respond, another message vibrates the phone in my hand.
The Stalker: Next time you're at work… wear the plug.
He can’t be serious?! I generally don’t like being told what to do. Stubbornly, I retort.
Cindel: What if I just carry it in my bag? You’ll never know the difference.
Lowering the bright screen I squint, trying to see further into the dark corners of my bedroom. Wondering if he’s watching me as we speak.
The Stalker: I plan to check, Princess.
The first thing I sense in the morning is coffee wafting into my bedroom. Sleep came effortlessly last night and I don’t recall a single nightmare, either.
Installing my aids, I drag my body from the comfort of my bed, with the promise of go-go juice on the horizon. Andrea faces the table askew with various papers, alongside the whiteboard on wheels.
She peers up from her task, “You look… different.” She raises an eyebrow. “Did you enjoy your night?” She tries to hide a knowing grin, while sipping from a mug.
Of course, she knows I went out. Even when I think I’m being sly, nothing gets past her. I chew on the inside of my cheek, recalling all the delicious ways Dax explored my body, making me feel like I was something to be cherished.
I lick my lips, make a fist and bob my wrist up and down, signingyes.Over the counter, I reach for a mug as I decide when and if I should tell Andrea my stalker’s true identity. She’s literally hated every man I’ve been with since I met her. Sometimes, she manages to be more overbearing than my ownmother. Two of the past guys I’ve been dated, have dropped off the map completely. What if she doesn’t like Dax too? A man who lured me in with mind games, broke into our apartment, and has kept his identity hidden up until yesterday. Yeah… I don’t exactly expect Andrea to roll out the welcome mat for him either.
When I pull down the last clean mug off the shelf the lettering reads,Serenity Now!Damn it all to hell… fine. The universe has spoken. I spin around, ready to tell her when I notice the board has something new added. Various letters are now circled within theStalker's Playlist.
“What’s that?” I walk over and point at one of the circled letters.
“A code,” she declares.
I give her an incredulous look. “A code? Did you figure this out?” I inquire.
