Chapter 20 Winnie
WINNIE
“Can you help Olive with the morning buns?” I ask Carolina, not looking up from where I’m researching restaurants that Kathy would like. “I need to plan this date.”
“What?” Carolina slams my laptop closed.
“Hey!”
“You’re planning the date for the love of your life and your sister?”
“He’s not the love of my life. I have a different love of my life.”
“Excuse me?” Carolina drags me into the stacks of books. “You go from having no men in your life to having what, Fitz”—she ticks off on her fingers—“your stalker, and who is this mysterious third person? It better not be someone your mom dragged up.”
“No, it’s just the stalker.” I confess. “He—last night, he—well, I’m not sure the best way to say this, but—”
Carolina’s mouth drops open in horror.
“He kissed me.”
“Where?”
“On the mouth, chin, cheeks, neck—”
“No.” She smacks me. “Where in the world was he kissing you?” She makes a wide circle with her hands.
“It was when I was jogging. He just grabbed me.”
“That sounds scary and frightening and deeply concerning…”
“No, it was actually really hot.” My face feels warm. I fan myself. “I think there’s something wrong with me, right? Or maybe it’s just stress from my living situation.”
“It’s latent pent-up sexual energy because the guy who is actually right for you—who is employed and doesn’t have a hobby of spying on women—”
“I especially can’t get with him while I’m currently having the filthiest sex of my life with a complete stranger.”
“I’m sorry, you had sex with this man?”
Several of my patrons look up from their romance-book shopping, very interested in our conversation.
“Shh! No. But I think it was leaning that way.”
“You were going to have sex with him outside?”
I squirm. “No?”
“You need a boyfriend. One without a criminal record.”
“Depends on what he was arrested for,” one lady remarks, basket stuffed full of books.
Carolina gives her a wan smile then drags me back to the storage room. “How do you know this is safe?”
“I mean, I don’t know that it’s not not safe.”
The door opens. “There you are.”
“Hi, Mom. I thought you had literally anything else to do today than come bother me at work.”
“Kathy says she needs help with the croissants.” My mom does, in fact, know how to bake.
“Olive’s already ruined a batch. We’re going to have to turn them into apple turnovers or something,” Carolina reminds me.
“Fine. There’s aprons in the closet.”
Mom ignores me. “You remember how I was telling you about the neighbor’s son? Well, I have good news.”
“Did he get into his paramedics program?” I ask, resigned to knowing more about my neighbors than any honest Seattleite wants to.
“They’re still waiting to hear back, but he’s very excited for your date tomorrow.”
“I’m not double-dating with Fitz and Kathy.”
“No, silly, with me and your father.”
“This is why she’s a failure in the romance department. I know you’re a boss babe.” Gran hustles in. “I don’t blame you, Winn. It’s your mother’s fault.”
“I will raise my daughter as I see fit, Frances.”
“She’s a grown woman, April,” Gran wails at my mom. “She needs to get out in the world, work that vag.”
“Aren’t these apples beautiful!” My dad stuffs himself into the storage room and shoves a large Tupperware container in my face. “I figured you could make apple muffins or apple butter to sell. You have that great apple butter recipe. Or those mini apple pies, Winn.”
“We’re going to make apple tarts,” Mom says emphatically. “We have all that dough left.”
“…a grown woman!” Gran is still ranting to anyone who will listen.
“One of my new golf club friends has a son. I think you guys would hit it off, Winn. I gave him your number to give to his son. Be on the lookout. I bet he calls you,” Dad says proudly. “He’s currently living in my buddy’s basement, and he’s looking to move out.”
The eye twitch is back. “Yay. More dependents.”
It’s obvious. My family is getting entrenched in Seattle.
Fitz is a worthy sacrifice to achieve some healthy boundaries and distance with my parents.
“Now, what do you think about this for the menu?” Mom shows me her notebook. “I think you could add a few more healthy options. Kathy, dear, be careful washing those apples.”
“I should just go ahead and invite Fred’s son over.” Dad asks, “Where’s your planner, Winn?”
“Dad, no.”
My phone starts ringing.
“That’s him!” Dad cries happily.
“Dad, you don’t—”
He swipes the green button on my phone. “Hello!” he says too loudly into the phone. “Are you calling to date my daughter?”
I need an optometrist. Or maybe I’ll start day drinking.
“Oh. It’s your credit card company. They need your social security number, Winn.”
“Oh, I have it somewhere,” Mom says, digging in her purse.
“No, Dad!” I snatch the phone back. My eye is twitching like a motherfucker. “It’s a scam call. Don’t give out my personal information.”
“We can do Fred’s son the next night,” Mom says. “For your date tonight, what about a nice mushroom pasta?”
“A man in a paramedics program needs protein. Make your butter-basted fish, Winnie,” Dad says.
“Dad, please…”
“Can you make mushroom tarts for the shop?” Kathy begs as she picks through the apples.
“Yes, Winnie, update the menu. Let’s make mushroom tarts.” Mom puts on her reading glasses.
“What if the guy who kissed you was one of the parental dating squad?” Carolina hisses in my ear.
“I don’t think it was him. This guy was tall,” I whisper back. My skin feels hot and prickly as I think back to last night. “He was muscular.”
“Muscle suit,” Carolina says flatly. “Your stalker isn’t going to be hot and rich. Those types of guys don’t have to stalk women and kiss them randomly.”
“Could be a kink.”
“So a red flag?” Carolina won’t let it go. “You are technically my employer. I don’t need you to be kidnapped and chopped up into Winnie stew or something.”
Carolina’s wrong, I decide later that night as I’m curled up on the couch downstairs trying to sleep.
Gran snores, and I can hear her through the walls.
I think the stalker is into me.
I think he cares about me.
I don’t think he was just after me for sex, though.
I squirm.
I’m totally into him for that.
I know I’m being dumb, know he’s probably dangerous.
I think about him—the leather, machine oil, and ink smell of him, like a book hero come to life.
The mysterious antihero.
And it’s clear he wants me.
It’s thrilling.
Could be fake.
Just like—
I slap the thought down.
That was old me, Winnie when she was young and dumb.
New Winnie just makes out with strange men in dark alleys.
But damn, what a kiss.
I always thought that no one would ever kiss me like He Who Shall Not Be Named.
I toss on the couch, uncomfortably swollen in my damp panties.
I want relief.
I think about his hands heavy on my waist, his tongue fat in my mouth. Damn, I bet it feels even better in my pussy.
The knee that forced my legs apart.
The heavy breathing as his teeth grazed my neck.
I could come just thinking about that hot, heavy breath on my tits.
Yeah, I can let Fitz go if I can have this instead.
I close my eyes in the dark, imagine him there. Feel the hot breath on my skin, the weight of his hand on my neck.
The couch dips, and I freak out, thinking one of my parents is going to catch me fluffing my pillow, if you know what I mean.
But I can’t make a sound around—
It’s him.
The stalker.
I blink up at him.
He’s just a shadow in the dark.
That harsh breathing through the mask covering his head and face.
My tongue darts out, tastes the leather of the glove.
The mesh over his eyes means I can’t even tell what color they are.
I wish I’d worn something cuter to sleep in.
That’s the last coherent thought I have before he shifts, sliding one hand under my worn Snoopy sleep shirt. Two fingers slip into my mouth, and I suck on the glove, moaning, while he rubs the rough seam over my sensitive nipples.
I want him to say something, want to hear him talk dirty to me, tell me how he’s going to fuck me while I scream, tear my pussy with his huge cock. But there’s just that heavy, unrelenting breathing.
His hand slides down. I moan, want to beg him, “Yeah, take my pussy.” But I can’t talk around the glove. He slides another finger in my mouth.
Even if I could, I just hear him say “Good girl” as he strokes my pussy through the sopping-wet panties. My hips roll into his hand.
The heavy breathing hitches, stills.
He sucks in a breath like he’s about to talk, then he swallows the words, leaning in to nuzzle my tits through the fabric while I whimper, my legs splayed while I rub myself, horny and needy, on the hand between my legs.
I need his fingers, need his cock, need his tongue in my mouth.
His fingers slide out.
He kisses me through the mask.
“Fuck me,” I choke out against the rough fabric.
His knuckle digs into my clit, and I gasp.
I can’t even speak. Can barely keep from coming.
Our breathing sounds harsh in the quiet.
God, I want his fingers inside me.
“If I—” I gasp, my hips surging against his hand. “If you tell me your name, I’ll let you come up my ass.”
He startles. I can hear the breathing change, his tongue against his teeth like he’s going to say—
“Winnie!” my mom calls. “Who are you talking to?”
The fuck—
“You’re not on your phone, are you? I was reading an AARP report that said you can mess up your wrist spending too much time on your phone.”
The light to the living room flicks on.
“Mom!” I panic.
“Oh, good. You’re up. I’m going to start on your dinner-date prep. Your dad wants miniature beef Wellingtons, he says, for the appetizers.”
“I—” I gulp and turn back, but the room is empty. He’s gone.
“I’ll help.”
It isn’t until later—after I’ve cleaned all the mushrooms and rolled out the pastry—that I find it.
The note.
Typewritten.
I’m going to fuck your ass while you drown choking on my cum.