Chapter 30
Ellinor
I’m wiping the bar down for what feels like the thousandth time tonight, but this is the last time. I’m closing up, finally done for the night; it”s a little past two in the morning. Jessica called in tonight, and she let me know no one else could come in either. It’s nothing new having to close up on my own. I can’t wait to own my own bar one day. I promised myself I would never do this to my future employees.
I grab my hot pink belt bag, throw it around my waist, and head to the door. I stop to look around, making sure I haven’t forgotten anything. I have that weird feeling that I am. I run through the checklist in my head. Put the cash in the safe, swept and mopped the floors, and restocked the bathrooms. Everything I can think of is done. Oh well, they had me in here by myself. They can fuck right off if I did forget something.
I step out the front door and turn around to lock it up. Goosebumps instantly rise on my neck, but I brush them off. I’ve got to stop being paranoid, and at this point, I’m hoping whoever the fuck is watching me would just make themselves known. I pull my gun out, just in case they actually want to make themselves known, or if it happens to not be my stalker and instead someone that wants me dead or trafficked. You can never be too careful. Isn’t it a joy being a woman?
Last week I woke up covered in what I’m pretty sure was a man’s cum. I called a local security company to install cameras, but no one has returned my calls. Anytime I report the break-ins to the cops, they come back with the same bullshit excuses or think I’m absolutely nuts. Whoever it is knows what the fuck they’re doing. They leave no prints behind or no forced entry marks anywhere. I really don’t know what to do at this point. When I ran into Marcello in Zamir’s hallway, I had to let him know. He has the cops so far in his pockets that they may as well be sucking his ass while they’re down there.
I open my car door, get in, and buckle up. I’ll be back at Shenanigans for another shift tonight. I’m going home and sleeping like the dead; Friday nights are always the worst. Before working in the bar industry, I always thought the worst days would be Saturdays, but Fridays do it every week. It’s everyone coming in after their shitty work weeks and blowing off steam. I can’t complain though. The tips are always top-tier since it’s most people’s paydays.
I’m in the shower, speaker blaring the intro to “CONCRETE JUNGLE” by Bad Omens, and how can I not scream alongside Noah? Good thing Blair’s not home, or she’d be busting this door down any minute. For some reason, whoever my mystery man is only seems to be interested in me. Thank fuck, because I’d really be losing it if he was trying to hurt Blair.
I get out, drying off, and throwing my hair up in a towel. Then, I start on my skincare routine. My nightly goal is to double cleanse, then apply so much moisturizer I could pass as a slug. Nevada air and my dad’s skin genes mixed… I refuse to be a wrinkly old bag. There is nothing wrong with wrinkles or aging, but I find peace in this nightly routine. But for real, miss me with the fine lines.
I look over to my sleeping pill bottle, debating and assessing how my anxiety and brain are handling themselves right now. I don’t take them nightly due to not wanting to be dependent on something to get me to sleep and stay asleep. The last few times, I’ve had some wild ass sex dreams, waking up with slick thighs, and the past couple of times, covered in jizz.
I’m hesitant, but I know I won’t be able to fall asleep worrying about all of this. So I pop the lid open, shake one out, and throw it back.
All I can hope for is a restful night’s sleep and no cum covering me. Add no wet dreams to that list too.
Slowly, so so slowly, I open my eyes to the beaming sunlight behind my should-be-shut black-out curtains. Those were closed when I went to sleep. Great.
Running a check over in my head. I don’t feel sore, but rubbing my legs together, I’m drenched between my legs. Again…
Maybe I just don’t remeb—I cut the train of thought off right there. I have a crusted texture all over my stomach and the top of my pussy. Even some covering my tits.
This sick fuck has to come in when I’m knocked out on sleeping medication and take advantage of me to get off. I can’t deny and say it doesn’t send a thrill through me… But why wouldn’t they just go with someone willing? Or even me when I’m fucking awake?!
I get up, stomping over to my desk, and surprise, there’s another goddamn bag sitting there that I sure as hell didn’t buy. Opening the bag up, it’s filled to the brim with the expensive ass underwear that my stalker always seems to bring with him. I’ve come to figure out that the fucker takes my used ones with him. At least he has the decency to replace them. I probably shouldn’t wear the ones that he’s gotten me, but they’re comfortable. I will give him that.
1There’s a piece of paper at the bottom. Great, it’s a note.
The prettiest cursive writing stares back at me.
I look down at my thighs, feeling something dripping down them, and there’s blood…
Great, my period decided to come in the middle of all this shit. With the birth control implant, I never know what will trigger it. Usually, being around someone and syncing up with theirs. I bet Blair has hers now that I think of it.
Looking at the underwear, the best idea I’ve had in a while comes to me. I take out the beautiful white lace pair my lovely stalker has given me and slide them up my legs and in place, collecting all the blood I can on them. I stand in place for a minute before pulling them off and setting them on a piece of paper on my desk. I head to the shower and wash off real quick. I have some assignments to get done today before work, and I want to hit the gym too. I might trade that out for a nap though, with my period hitting me.
I head back into my room after putting my daytime skincare on and grab my phone. I scroll on for a minute but remember talking to Marcello about my stalker issue the other day at Zamir’s.
I hit the call button and listen for a couple of rings.
The deep voice that reminds me of all the good times picks up the phone. “Ellie, what good karma am I receiving getting to hear your voice?” Marcello’s deep voice rings through the speaker. Fuck, his voice is so sultry.
“You can get some more good karma if you help me out…”
“What can I help with, Elle? You know you don’t even need to ask. Give me the command, and I’ll be there.”
“It’s my stalker.” I sound so defeated, even to myself.
He rushes out, “What’s happened? Are you okay?”
Chuckling, I answer, “Right now, I am, but he’s made himself known again.”
“Come over to my apartment; I can try to get to the bottom of it.”
“When?”
“Now. If you don’t have anything else to do.”
“Okay, I’ll get ready and head over. Since I know where you live now.” I’m fucking smiling at my phone. I’ve missed him so much over the past few years. We’ve grown apart, but no matter how long it’s been, we always go right back to where we left off. He will always hold a place in my heart.
1.nameless - Stevie Howie