Hide, Don't Seek

Chapter 13~

This last week has been painfully boring. I sat in more meetings this week than I have in the last four weeks combined. As soon as I logged off of my last meeting, I was ready to heat up my leftover lo mein and down a bottle of Fireman’s #4 Blonde Ale.

Deciding on music instead of a movie, for now, I walk over to my record player. Unlatching the lid, I open it, then turn to browse the assortment of records I”ve collected lined up on the shelf. Corrine Bailey Rae calls out to me, so I carefully slide the vinyl out of the record sleeve and put it on the platter. Already knowing where the third track starts, I turn the tonearm, carefully set the stylus down, then push power. Put Your Records On slowly plays through the speaker and a small sense of peace settles me.

Grabbing my dinner from the kitchen, I amble to the living room and plop onto my oversized, round swivel chair. Sitting my dinner on the side table, I grab my gray, weighted hoodie blanket and slip it on. Burrowing in, I inhale deeply as my eyes close. One by one, I feel every muscle in my body slowly relax.

Reaching over, I take a huge gulp of my beer before swapping it for my food.

The light, freeing lyrics of the song helps me let go of the crazy shit from the last week: The way E made my body light up like a thousand fireflies buzzing through me; how Stu brought me out of my flashbacks and wrapped me comfortably in his arms; my hormones going crazy around Danny, Even, and Stu last weekend; my impromptu video session with Alpha…

I just… I just need to refocus, pack up all of these stupid hormones and emotions into a little tiny box and light it on fire.

Shaking my head, I try to clear my thoughts and focus on the music filtering through my space. I take a long pull from my beer before grabbing my plate and showing a mouthful of lo mein straight into my hole. No need to be polite and crap when I’m by myself.

All.

By.

Myself.

Exhaling heavily, I down the rest of my beer and toss my noodles on the side table. I know exactly what I need.

Flipping through my phone, I click on the app I need. I’m technically not ready to take on my next target, but there’s no reason I can’t have a little fun beforehand. Usually, I meet an app guy after I nab my target, and want to expel my adrenaline before waking him.

But, I’m feeling, off, I guess. I don’t know, but I need to get my head on straight.

For the next ten minutes, I scroll through my matches and try to figure out the top three I want to contact. Of course, E is there, but I can’t see him again. I don’t think. At least, not now. We crossed one of my hard lines by kissing, and I don’t think it’s wise to meet again.

Ugh,I’m irritating myself with all these wishy-washy girly feelings.

Taking a deep breath, I randomly pick a guy. Scanning to make sure most of our hard lines and preferences seem aligned, I send a message. I usually prefer to talk for a few days to a couple of weeks, ensuring we have similar expectations for our meeting. But, tonight, I don’t care. I just need… a release.

J should be here any minute. After a few short and sweet messages, I decided to invite him to the back of the property. It’s large enough that he won’t be anywhere near my actual residence. In fact, I’m technically inviting him to another address altogether; something that took me years to pull off.

My entire property is 10 acres. However, my main house is in the middle of my favorite four-acre section, complete with a little creek and the best paths to run my four-wheeler. I have that properly fenced off, whereas the other two sections have bland barbed-wire fencing surrounding them. Each has its own address and “houses” that get plenty of junk mail. That way, to anyone else, it appears to be three separate properties owned by different people. At least, that’s what the public documents say.

The other two pieces of my property are split almost 50/50 into about 3 acres each. The one I”m not using tonight has a small trailer on it—nothing fancy—that I use to “get away” sometimes. I’ve painted almost every surface—random doodles, splatter paint. Whatever I want, when I want.

The section I’m currently on is the most densely covered area. Where the other small section has a large clearing and a decent-sized pond, this slice of heaven is trees, trees, and more trees. An array of deciduous trees ranges further than the eye can see in any direction. Most of them have been here for hundreds of years and have nice, large trunks that I can easily find refuge behind; and sometimes in. The gravel driveway is only about half a mile long and is the only thing that isn’t blanketed by grass and, you guessed it, trees.

This house was the original one on the property when I first bought it. It”s cute, simple, and almost cottage-like. It”s very different from the trailer and the log-chic house that I actually reside in. This one reminds me of my grandmother.

Worn brick surrounds the exterior except for light-colored wood trim. A single large window in the front is shuttered by two large wooden shutters that match the trim. The door is nothing to write home about. It’s a simple wooden door with a peephole and also matches the little bit of wood trimming the edges of the house. On each side of the house is a singular, small window. Shortly after moving in, I upgraded all the locks and hinges since they were the originals and not secure at all.

The roof above the front door extends about 8 feet over the front deck in a triangular shape, and the furthest end is held up by two large columns made up of thick wooden beams that… match the house”s trim.

Honestly, it’s not much to look at. Even the deck is made up of the same colored wood used to trim the house.

Inside isn’t much better. I tore out all of the 50s-style wallpaper. Why so many women enjoyed roses plastered on everything is beyond me. I may be cynical, but I hate roses- always have. They are way too expensive and way too predictable. Boring.

So, yeah, I tore that all right out before I even moved in. I painted the walls a nice, soft cream color, threw in a few pieces of antique furniture I bought at an auction, and lightly decorated them. Very lightly. I knew this wasn’t going to be my forever spot, and I already had big plans for the log house I wanted to build, so I made this my temporary dwelling. Upgraded what needed to be upgraded and left the rest to nature. Now, I really only use this on the rare occasion when someone wants to come over. I don’t like people being in my space. I know all too well how quickly your personal space can be tainted...

My phone pings with a notification just as I begin to swirl down a dangerous memory. Thank God.

Opening the kink app, I click on the message from J.

J:3 minute ETA.

Me:Awesome! Just look for the mailbox with the galaxy racoon. The dirt road will wind a bit, then you’ll see the little house. My little gray Civic is parked on the right.

I drove my little car here, not wanting him to be able to track my SUV or something. I didn”t have enough time to vet ”J” like I usually would have, so I took a few precautions. I almost never use this old car, so there”s no way he”d recognize it out and about.

With a deep breath, I check to make sure that the only light on is the one on the porch. Then, I make my way into the bathroom to put on my mask. I felt way too exposed with E so I told J I would wear the mask. I may very well do it every time now. Hopefully, it will help keep the boundary firmly in place.

Slipping on my black Venetian party mask, I clip the band to my hair on both sides of my head. I am really excited to wear this one because it’s a full-face mask, only showing my eyes and a little bit of my forehead. It’s almost butterfly-shaped, with how it dips down from the top on both sides and meets just above my nose. The black material is thin and breathable. On the right side of the mask are little fabric flowers flowing down. The eyes are each rimmed with little rhinestones, which help my blue eyes pop. The left side is covered in an intricate black lace with no further additions. The nostril cut-outs are just large enough that I should have good airflow, and I’m more than certain that I won’t have any breathing problems as I test the heaviness of the fabric across the mouth. Finally, a singular flower is affixed to the bottom where my mouth is, so there should be no room for mistakes this time.

With a final check, I tousle my fingers through my hair to fluff it up a bit. The mask totally completes the look and comes off as something sexy yet sinister. Twisting a little, I begin to second-guess my decision to give in so easily to his choice of clothing. I feel a lot more exposed than I like. He wanted a simple blank tank top with a black, flowy skirt. The skirt is adorable, but the tank makes me feel like a sausage exploding from its casing. Not cute.

He tried to tell me to wear heels, but, pfft, yeah, right. Instead, I’m donning my trusty Chucks.

Every part of me is smooth, silky, and desperately ready to be played with. Checking my phone one last time, I activate the alarm parameters I’ve set up for every ‘encounter.’ One can never be too careful. My system blinks before turning green, letting me know that it’s running; then, the alarm immediately begins counting down from 90 minutes.

I know me, and I know how long these things take. If I don’t deactivate the alarm or reset it using my own complicated pin, all of the information I have on this person, including any images or videos my security system catches, will be sent directly to Stu. Not that he knows that. But, unfortunately, he’s all I’ve got.

Which is yet another reason why I need this dingus to hurry up and get any further more-than-friendly ideas about Stu out of my head.

As soon as I click out of the security app, my phone dings.

J:Ready to play hide and seek?

I feel adrenaline surge through my body, my clit playing its own little happy tune, as a smirk forms across my face.

Shutting off all of the lights, I slip out the back door. We agreed that that message would be the code so I would know when he reached the mailbox, giving me plenty of time to hide.

Me:Start counting…

With that, I turn off the sound, shove my phone in my bra, and slip into the night.