Chapter 7~
My chonky Ball Python, Athena, slithers her way up my neck and into my hair, wrapping herself around her favorite yellow scrunchy. I never wear these thick things because my hair is so darn thin but Athena loves them. And, I love her.
It was love at first sight; or FaceBook post. One of the local businesses had her after being abandoned at the vet. She was only 6 months old and had to have surgery and a stupid amount of medications because of an infection due to stuck shed. She even lost one of her eyes. But once I saw the little lavender albino cinnamon roll, I knew she was mine.
Her pale yellow spots look perfect against her beige, almost lavender-looking, scales. She’s perfect and so dang sweet.
My phone vibrates on the bed next to me as I finish my lesson plans for next week. Scooping it up, I click on the screen and see that Stu messaged me. It’s not completely odd, but he already sent me my next target. And, as easy-going as he is, I have tried to keep that line drawn firmly in the sand that separates personal and professional. Although, he’s the only one who knows about most of my tormentors. Well, he knows enough. Enough that when I asked him to track them down, he had zero qualms about me getting rid of the vermin from this world.
But, I could see it in his eyes. He knew. He always knew.
Then, last night happened. He’s seen me lose control a few times but never, never, like that; fully immersed in a flashback. Unfortunately, he”s seen me cry a few times. Heck, the night he caught me with Baldie and then helped me dispose of the body, he saw me cry in a blind rage. Then, he drew me a bubble bath and closed the door. He spent the next 15 minutes talking to me through the door while I relaxed into the heavenly smell of eucalyptus and citrus. From that night forward, he became my person. Well, as close to my person as I will allow. I still don’t really talk to him about life or random things. We’re not exactly the TikTok-sharing type.
But, last night was different. I was too vulnerable and, now, my feelings for him are getting harder to disguise.
Looking down at the message, I see that he’s clearly lost his mind.
Stu:Hey Queen Bea. Going out for a drink tonight and wondered if you wanted to stop by? It’s a little karaoke bar not far from you. I’ll even sing for you if you show.
What in the actual forkballs is going on?We don’t do this. We don’t hang out. We don’t chit-chat. I mean, no more than surface-level crap; no matter how much he tries. And, I definitely do not go to bars anymore. Well, unless I’m tracking a target.
Hell, even the night Stu caught me a few years ago was a fluke. A few sort of friends from high school came home for a wedding or something and wanted to go to the cookey bar in the country. They had reached out to me since they thought it was more ”my scene.” Whatever that meant. But I ended up all too happy to see Baldie McButtFace walk in, so I suppose it wasn’t a total waste of a night. Thankfully, I had a syringe in my purse in case of emergencies. And, the girls didn’t give two craps that I left suddenly, faking a sickness. They had driven their own car, anyway.
Blinking back the memories of the past, I stare down at the phone and imagine Stu, relaxed at a bar, with no talks of demons amongst men. His piercings probably cause many people to flinch away but he’s harmless. He has a bridge piercing, a loop through his right nostril, and a labret adorned with a single, silver hoop. Add in an eyebrow ring at the end of his right eyebrow and a circular barbell with cones on each ear and, yeah, he can be a lot to look at.
But, his smile, is downright panty-melting. It”s like the entire universe could be distorted just because he smiles. And the dimples… forks and spoons the dimples. Swoon-worthy indeed.
More than that, though, he”s always so playful and silly; even when I try my best not to crack, he can always make me smile. I also may or may not love that he doesn’t stick to one hair color. When I first met him, his slightly shaggy hair was platinum blonde and messy in a totally laid-back, sexy way. He”s also spectacularly rocked electric blue and pale purple. There was a, thankfully, short time that he had deep, dark black hair that made him look pale. Now, he’s got a whole hot pink mop of hair. I won”t tell him this, but he looks adorable with it.
The color may change frequently but he does keep the length pretty much the same. It’s generally a tapered cut just above the neck and relatively messy all over. It”s like he just can’t be bothered with it. But no matter what he does, he still looks yummy.
Athena slithers down my neck and brings me out of my head. My cheeks hurt, and I realize it’s because I’m smiling so hard thinking about this goofy man. Nope.
I chunk my phone on the bed behind me and slowly unwrap Athena from around my neck. I need to keep my head on, and no person, let alone a man, should have me smiling like that.
Just as Athena slides out of my hand and into her enclosure, I hear my phone vibrating on the bed. I stare across the room at it and hope to God it’s not Stu. He’s probably just messing around, right?
Ignoring it for now, I pad over to the bathroom and wash my hands with soap and water. Like any other animal, practicing good hygiene before and after handling is always important. Then, I turn off the lights and head out to the living room.
It’s not much since it’s just me. An oversized round swivel chair sits on the wall opposite of where my bedroom is. It’s my favorite place to read or nap.
A 70-inch TV occupies most of the wall that separates my room from the living room. It’s sitting on top of a long white-washed wooden entertainment center; complete, of course, with mini sliding barn doors.
A small white loveseat overlooks the massive backyard to my right near the windows, and a matching white couch is to the room”s left. I cut tiny star shapes into my blackout curtains so that even when I don’t want a lot of light, some still filters in—making me smile.
Crossing through the room, I pad to the kitchen and grab a Diet Coke, relishing in the spshh sound it makes when I pop the tab. Leaning against the white marble counter, I take a swig and find myself chewing on my lip.
Would it really hurt to have one drink? I mean, I could be there and back in time to finish the last few chapters of my book. And I don’t keep alcohol here for fear I’d turn out like my ex stepdad: drunk and miserable with no life at all.
More irritated than I should be, I slam my soda down on the counter and stomp back to the bedroom to grab my phone. I can feel the anxiety in my body rising deep in my chest, and I can’t tell if I’m going to scream, cry, or stop breathing altogether. Easy, Bea. Breathe in for four, hold for four, breathe out for four…
Opening my phone, I stare at Stu”s message. My thumb hovers over the message bar, mocking me with emptiness. The words start to blur together as I zone out, thinking of all the reasons this is a horrible idea. Besides, he’s probably just trying to be nice after saving me from myself again.
Finally, I reply.
Me:Thank you for asking. I know I was off yesterday, but I’m good now. Have fun.
With a partially contented sigh, I plop on my bed and notice there’s a notification alert on the Kink-Finder app. Logging in, I open it and see that I have another match and he’s already reached out.
Thoughts of E flow in and out of my mind. His hands on my body, the way every nerve-ending lit up for him. And that darn kiss. I’m pretty sure my soul left my body as his tongue tangoed so perfectly with mine. Crap on a cracker. This is why I have a no-kissing rule. My emotions are unreliable at best.
Clearing my thoughts, I check the message, which is a standard: “Hey. How are you?” Clicking on his profile, I start sussin’ him out. I’m personally not worried about what he looks like, but I always store pics of the few I have met up with in my “If something happens to me” folder.
He’s rather cute in a little brother type of way. But I don’t even make it to his bio paragraph before declining. Once I see that he’s 22 and a self-proclaimed “cougar hunter,” yeah, no. That’s not happening.
Clicking the no-match icon, I let the app do my dirty work. I may be strong in some aspects, but I know my heart is still a sappy mess that likes to spare others’ feelings when possible. And, unfortunately, that has caused me a lot of emotional, physical, and sexual pain. No, thank you.
I’ve learned that the easiest way to prevent it is to avoid allowing anyone to get close enough to manipulate me. Which is how I’ve become a 32-year-old online teacher by day, a self-proclaimed vigilante by night, and the proud mother of four snakes. I have no family anymore and no friends, other than Stu and the men I bring to my war room.
The phone vibrates in my hand, causing me to yelp in surprise, and I laugh out loud because I am absolutely ridiculous.
Stu:Come on, my Queen. One drink. I’ll pay!
Stu:And I’ll sing to you. (smirk emoji)
I find myself chuckling at his antics and roll my eyes.
Me:It’s not really my scene. But, thanks anyway.
Stu:Please! (pout emoji) One drink and I’ll let you sashay that fine ass right out the door.
Rolling off the bed, I head towards the kitchen since I left my Diet Coke on the counter. I feel myself put a little extra sway in my hips as I figure out my response. I scoff at myself when I realize what I”ve done and fire back.
Me:Whatever, Romeo. Use your charms on someone else and stop blowing smoke up my behind.
Me:Also, thank you for another lead.
Stu:Your ass is smokin all right. (wink)
Stu:And, you’re welcome. You can pay me for my services by coming out and having a drink with me.
Damn, this jerkface is really pushing it tonight. Usually, he lets me brush him off and move on. Maybe he really is worried about me. But, why? We don’t really know each other.
Stu:One drink. Promise. Cross my cock and hope to dive…
Stu:Between the thighs of a beautiful woman.
My sudden burst of laughter actually surprises me. He’s such a dolt. But, maybe he can be a friend. A real one. It’s been like four years. And, one drink can’t hurt. Right? I’ll just make sure I buy my own, watch the bartender make it, and down it before anyone can mess with it.
Having made up my mind I quickly type out my acceptance before I change my mind. Then I head off to shower before trying to make myself presentable-ish. Just because I’d rather be in my night dresses and comfy shorts doesn’t mean I should go in public with them.
Here’s to hoping this isn’t a terrible, terrible mistake.