Chapter 36
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
CINDEL
Tiptoeing into our apartment with the stench of sex and curated meat isn’t exactly how I envisioned the night ending. I’m not sure what I expected… but I went to the boathouse knowing I trusted him.
The house was silent. Andrea must have passed out after being awake for hours on end, combing through the information on the board. I couldn’t do any of this without her help, however I am glad to not come home to a barrage of questions.
I scurry to the bathroom after closing and locking the front door. These kinds of insidious activities are going to be much more difficult once Andrea installs the security system. During the taxi ride home, I couldn’t help but shift in my seat… keen to remove the keepsake he pressed into me.
He is Dax. I let his name sit with me for some time.
Dax is my stalker. How had I not considered him before?
Always so close by. I was naive to think the man in the shadows was Eamon, but it all made perfect sense now.
Why he never spoke. Garron never closed his mouth long enough for anyone else to get a word in edgewise.
The only reason I considered him was because of the stupid toothpick.
Which Dax must have tracked in on his boot.
I mean they are almost always together… everything clicks into place.
How he knew so much about me and why he was able to funnel me songs nearby without me noticing.
I drew a bath, easing sluggishly into the balmy water.
My body aches in new places from the ropes which bound my body and suspended me midair, merely an hour ago.
I liked it. More than liking, I can’t stop thinking about it.
The way I was restrained yet, all he wanted to do was lay himself bare.
His form was very nice in itself, but I saw the vulnerability in the way he looked at me.
The way he recoiled when he unmasked. He was apprehensive…
probably expecting I would reject him. How could I ever…
when everything that’s ensued over the past month has made me feel more myself, more empowered than I’ve ever been?
Dax doesn’t make me feel damaged, he stokes the fire in me that had gone out, once upon a time.
I’ve never been more sure of myself and my decisions.
Finally confident in who I am. I may have lost my ability to hear long ago; except I suspect I’ve been going through life blindly.
I can see now. Thanks to Dax and I have no plans of closing my eyes to reality, ever again.
After soaking for a little bit, I find the edges of the flared base, covering my clenched hole.
Taking in a large inhale, I draw out the toy, tensing on the widest part, I try and remind myself to relax…
exhaling slowly, I’m finally able to remove the plug.
Truthfully, pulling it out felt so much better than the initial invasion.
It’s funny how I didn’t even mind it being inside me.
This is the first time I’ve actually enjoyed having something there.
Previous times just fucking hurt. I roll the toy in soapy bubbles, eventually examining it above the water.
It is heavier than expected, speckles of colors that could only be sprinkles, encased within the glass object.
This was obviously custom-made. I’ve shopped online, been to sex shops, and I’ve never encountered anything quite so unique.
Rotating to the base of the object, I notice something unusual embedded.
I’ve definitely seen this thing before. Not in person but like in pictures or videos online.
The theme is generally to caution you about ‘possible dangers.’ People who could follow you, even track you down.
Well, this menacing device was encased within the base of the see-through sex toy.
“What the fuck?!”
Emerging from the tub, I briskly towel off and stalk toward my bedroom to locate my phone. There’s a new message from him.
The Stalker: How are you feeling, beautiful?
Ignoring his question, I type out the reason I vacated the bath so quickly. Hitting send, before rereading. “Damnit!” Spellcheck corrected my words.
Cindel: You ducker! You put a tracker inside me?
No one means to say ducker! They really need to update phone software to include profanity!
Dots appear, then his response follows.
The Stalker: Technically it wasn’t “in” you.
I retort,
Cindel: Semantics.
Another text appears almost instantly.
The Stalker: Do you like it?
Well, I did before I knew I was the equivalent to a sea turtle, being tagged and tracked off the Atlantic. I was livid and turned on? Just fucking conflicted… unsure how to reply.
My sheets are currently rolled into a messy ball.
I kind of liked when they were made up, tucked neatly into the corners.
It’s more inviting… warmer. A smile now plays on my lips, but I remember how scared I was when I first found him stretched out in my bed.
Dressed in a towel, no less. When I close my eyes, the smokey stare finds me…
no trepidation under his assessment, but something closer to tenderness…
he almost reminds me of Kingston. Just a big dopey dog who means well, but can’t help tugging roughly on the rope when you play or drooling onto the floor when you present his meal.
I replay the moments his gaze transitioned from measured to unbridled as he plunged inside me…
fucking me until I saw stars. Was this tracker just another screwy way of showing me he cared?
I did enjoy the sensation of fullness. Intensity paired with his ability to play my body like a fucking instrument.
I’m never going to forget the things we did together in that boathouse.
My phone vibrates with another message.
The Stalker: Seems like you need more time to think in it.
What? I think he meant, “on.” Before I can respond, another message vibrates the phone in my hand.
The Stalker: Next time you're at work… wear the plug.
He can’t be serious?! I generally don’t like being told what to do. Stubbornly, I retort.
Cindel: What if I just carry it in my bag? You’ll never know the difference.
Lowering the bright screen I squint, trying to see further into the dark corners of my bedroom. Wondering if he’s watching me as we speak.
The Stalker: I plan to check, Princess.
The first thing I sense in the morning is coffee wafting into my bedroom. Sleep came effortlessly last night and I don’t recall a single nightmare, either.
Installing my aids, I drag my body from the comfort of my bed, with the promise of go-go juice on the horizon. Andrea faces the table askew with various papers, alongside the whiteboard on wheels.
She peers up from her task, “You look… different.” She raises an eyebrow. “Did you enjoy your night?” She tries to hide a knowing grin, while sipping from a mug.
Of course, she knows I went out. Even when I think I’m being sly, nothing gets past her. I chew on the inside of my cheek, recalling all the delicious ways Dax explored my body, making me feel like I was something to be cherished.
I lick my lips, make a fist and bob my wrist up and down, signing yes.
Over the counter, I reach for a mug as I decide when and if I should tell Andrea my stalker’s true identity.
She’s literally hated every man I’ve been with since I met her.
Sometimes, she manages to be more overbearing than my own mother.
Two of the past guys I’ve been dated, have dropped off the map completely.
What if she doesn’t like Dax too? A man who lured me in with mind games, broke into our apartment, and has kept his identity hidden up until yesterday.
Yeah… I don’t exactly expect Andrea to roll out the welcome mat for him either.
When I pull down the last clean mug off the shelf the lettering reads, Serenity Now! Damn it all to hell… fine. The universe has spoken. I spin around, ready to tell her when I notice the board has something new added. Various letters are now circled within the Stalker's Playlist.
“What’s that?” I walk over and point at one of the circled letters.
“A code,” she declares.
I give her an incredulous look. “A code? Did you figure this out?” I inquire.
She stands to join me next to the whiteboard. “Not really. Your stalker boy texted me a string of numbers. Then this message. She points to the words “The End is the Beginning.”
I examine each circled letter, following how she counted over from left to right, through the artist and song title. The chosen letter matches the number of spaces, based on the random string of numbers she wrote down. Dax sent this…?
“Your boy likes games.”
I take notice of where she erased the transposed message, then reordered the letters backward.
“The end is the beginning,” I whisper to myself. “What do you think Uncle Nicholas Lie means?”
Her shoulders raise and drop. “Beats me. I just wish that stalker of yours sent that to me instead of having me decode dumb riddles all night.”
I sit down at the table, this time with brain fuel, overlooking everything we’ve jammed within a small area.
What does my uncle have to do with any of this?
My uncle has been there for me over the past few years, more than anyone else.
What would he lie about? New pieces with vague connections, now some far-fetched message about my uncle?
Feeling particularly brazen, I casually note, “Dax seems to have a rhyme and a reason for everything he does. Maybe he has to be careful. I’ve learned recently it’s very easy to be watched without your knowledge.”
Her painted finger taps on her chin. “I don’t think that’s a good excuse to make me jump through hoops when he could have simply…wait!”
I nonchalantly sip from the mug as her almond eyes widen.
“Did… did you just say Dax?!”
I lower the drink to the table, all the while pressing my lips firmly together, in an attempt to fight the grin that pulls at my mouth.