not my colleagues at work, not Robby and certainly not the ponytail man. And yet, he’s found me here. I gaze around as if I think he’ll step from the shadows and present himself, but there’s nothing but sunshine streaming in windows and all the shadows have disappeared. “Thank-you,” my comment is smothered by fear and I return to my room.
It doesn’t take me long to pack, especially since I’m throwing clothes into my suitcase with little thought about how they’ll look when I get home.
How can I submit to him in a cheap bar, let him order me naked in an alley and not tremble with fear… but I’m too afraid to answer my own question. If I stopped to listen to myself I’m sure I’d hear that I’ve gone crazy, one step shy of deranged. I drive home, my home in Isaac’s apartment, with my heart furious for having danced this tango with an unknown man who won’t even share his name with me. Heart still thumping with an anxious dirge, when the apartment door finally closes behind me, I try one sigh of relief. I try to laugh as well. Perhaps this fear is as much madness as anything real, though it seems to have taken any peace of mind I might have found on my night away.
Trying for some sanity, I flip on the TV, and then fix a plate of nachos in the kitchen. Thumbing through the channels for something to take my mind off my madness, I find the panic ebbing like the tide. It returns in small surges, but then seems to fall away as long as I keep the stranger’s face from my mind.
Oddly, it’s ten o’clock before I go the bedroom. I haven’t even unpacked my clothes. Maybe they remind of the panic when I left the B&B, or maybe it’s the note inside my suitcase crumpled with my crumpled clothes.
Finally having the peace of mind to tackle the task, I make my way to the guest room at the back of Isaac’s apartment. He’d told me to use his king-size bed, but there were those memories of him that I didn’t need. I’ve been happy to sleep in the daybed down the hall where the morning light hits the windows, and it’s shady in the afternoon. There’s a balcony just outside French doors that leads to the rooftop patio and what makes this apartment so especially appealing.
Turning on the light, I’m about to throw my satchel on the bed when I spot something unfamiliar lying there. I cringe. Fear returns like an old lover and grabs me with unwanted hands. I can’t begin to move or fathom what’s happened. A hundred scenarios pass through my mind. Is Isaac home? Has he planned this silly stunt to scare me? Has one of his old girlfriends with a key decided to lodge with me and perform kinky rites in my bedroom? Or is there something more sinister going on—a stranger lurking in the shadows?
I can’t take my eyes off the object on the bed. A sleek black leather riding crop lies where I lie at night, where I’d nap in the afternoon, or masturbate in the morning. Looking like a wily snake I think it’s going to slither on its own, but it’s as immobile as I am. Backing away, as though I see a ghost hovering over the implement, I sniff the room for his aroma, swearing now that I’ve sensed his presence since I returned. He’s been in the apartment, inside my room, leaving traces of himself, telling me he owns more of me than I’ve ever consented to give him. Will he come in the night? Rape me without warning? Will I wake to find myself tied to this bed, strung up for a battle with this riding crop?
Finally taking a bold stride across the room, I test the outside door and find it locked just as it had been before I left. There are no marks of forced entry. How could he have gotten past the dead bolts? Does he have a key? My fear increases with each dire thought that pours into my head. And
It doesn’t take me long to pack, especially since I’m throwing clothes into my suitcase with little thought about how they’ll look when I get home.
How can I submit to him in a cheap bar, let him order me naked in an alley and not tremble with fear… but I’m too afraid to answer my own question. If I stopped to listen to myself I’m sure I’d hear that I’ve gone crazy, one step shy of deranged. I drive home, my home in Isaac’s apartment, with my heart furious for having danced this tango with an unknown man who won’t even share his name with me. Heart still thumping with an anxious dirge, when the apartment door finally closes behind me, I try one sigh of relief. I try to laugh as well. Perhaps this fear is as much madness as anything real, though it seems to have taken any peace of mind I might have found on my night away.
Trying for some sanity, I flip on the TV, and then fix a plate of nachos in the kitchen. Thumbing through the channels for something to take my mind off my madness, I find the panic ebbing like the tide. It returns in small surges, but then seems to fall away as long as I keep the stranger’s face from my mind.
Oddly, it’s ten o’clock before I go the bedroom. I haven’t even unpacked my clothes. Maybe they remind of the panic when I left the B&B, or maybe it’s the note inside my suitcase crumpled with my crumpled clothes.
Finally having the peace of mind to tackle the task, I make my way to the guest room at the back of Isaac’s apartment. He’d told me to use his king-size bed, but there were those memories of him that I didn’t need. I’ve been happy to sleep in the daybed down the hall where the morning light hits the windows, and it’s shady in the afternoon. There’s a balcony just outside French doors that leads to the rooftop patio and what makes this apartment so especially appealing.
Turning on the light, I’m about to throw my satchel on the bed when I spot something unfamiliar lying there. I cringe. Fear returns like an old lover and grabs me with unwanted hands. I can’t begin to move or fathom what’s happened. A hundred scenarios pass through my mind. Is Isaac home? Has he planned this silly stunt to scare me? Has one of his old girlfriends with a key decided to lodge with me and perform kinky rites in my bedroom? Or is there something more sinister going on—a stranger lurking in the shadows?
I can’t take my eyes off the object on the bed. A sleek black leather riding crop lies where I lie at night, where I’d nap in the afternoon, or masturbate in the morning. Looking like a wily snake I think it’s going to slither on its own, but it’s as immobile as I am. Backing away, as though I see a ghost hovering over the implement, I sniff the room for his aroma, swearing now that I’ve sensed his presence since I returned. He’s been in the apartment, inside my room, leaving traces of himself, telling me he owns more of me than I’ve ever consented to give him. Will he come in the night? Rape me without warning? Will I wake to find myself tied to this bed, strung up for a battle with this riding crop?
Finally taking a bold stride across the room, I test the outside door and find it locked just as it had been before I left. There are no marks of forced entry. How could he have gotten past the dead bolts? Does he have a key? My fear increases with each dire thought that pours into my head. And
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