4. Chapter 4
Ok, so I think I’ve gotten myself into deep, deep shit.
There wasn’t an endgame really when I decided to put on the ghostface mask I’d worn for Halloween a couple of years ago, but colour me fucking surprised at this growing infatuation I’ve found myself with over a certain Scottish man.
A very delicious and insanely hot guy–who happens to also be very unavailable–but I think that’s going to come to an end soon.
I can smell it in the air, or maybe that’s just the hope he’ll kick Grace to the curb.
I’d assumed Cass was straight, until I felt a very willing, firm present in his pants for me during our first anonymous meeting.
A total misunderstanding, the wrong window actually, but I left feeling giddier than I’d felt since being a young teen.
I’m pretty sure that he’ll realise any day now he’s being taken for granted and move on, come to his senses that his dick clearly likes other dicks.
I just need to be there when that happens, to maybe jump around in his face chanting pick me!
Anyway, I digress.
When I put on the mask, all I’d intended to do was see if the guy was actually into mask play as he had suggested to her, or if he was just a poser and didn’t have the first clue on getting a little kinky.
As a lover and defender of dark romance, I was only doing my due diligence in making sure an amateur didn’t turn up to my friend’s house and scare her to death, getting himself arrested in the process.
Friend is a loose term; Grace is easy to work with on literature studies, but I don’t like her book choices.
They’re always missing a little extra…spice, for my tastes.
I’m not a masochist or anything, but consensual roleplay kinda gets me going. Ah, fun times.
I kinda wanted to fuck with him a little too, thinking it was his window I was at because I’d seen him leave there a bunch, alone on his way to class.
Sometimes he’d be going for a run or heading to the gym, so foolishly I didn’t think to do any other recon and turned up to the wrong bloody window.
I honestly thought he was going to punch me square in the face and take the mask off, instead we both got a little excited and I couldn’t hear a thing other than the blood roaring in my ears.
I’d put a little pressure on him and he’d submitted more willingly than I ever expected.
A quiet, dominant part of me waking up to say hello.
Sexually I’d never been the type, but I guess that might be because I’ve only been with a handful of men that were all more experienced than I was at the time.
I’d been baby gay Miles, coming out to my mum at fifteen and then all at once had my eye opening experiences before coming to university.
I’m twenty two—after taking a couple years out before heading here for various reasons, so I’ve had my fair share of entering my twenties fully played with.
Hence my surprise at myself for enjoying the role reversal, making him putty in my hands had been such a rush.
Here lies my problem. I knew virtually nothing about Grace's boyfriend before overheard their conversation at the bar. I’d been there to lend her one of my books she wanted to try, but we’d slipped into the booth next to theirs for one before heading out.
He’d seemed nice—quiet, but now I can see Cass is far from it, he just gets a little tongue tied around her because she never lets him get a word in edge ways.
She might as well have ignored he was even with us at the coffee house.
I don’t know how he’d kept it together when she’d blatantly not cared that she’d left without him.
I can’t complain too much, I had his full attention and it was intoxicating. He showed me fucking cows!! She doesn’t deserve a man who gets regular cuddles with cows.
After overhearing them at the bar, and then turning up wearing the ghostface mask, I decided to do a little light stalking on all things Mr Casper Campbell. His name is even sexy, god dammit.
I'd spent a full evening ignoring my seventeenth rewatch of The Vampire Diaries and instead went through every Instagram post of his, being careful not to like anything.
I'd found him through a rogue tagged photograph on her page, his face barely in the shot but I recognised the wildlife and nature tattoos that wrap around his thick arms.
I think my life flashed before my eyes when he took his wet t-shirt off in the coffee shop. Suddenly I could see all the years I spent on earth and that was the highlight.
I've always found dark shaded tattoos attractive, but the idea of Cass finding the perfect artwork that suits him so well, is a blessing to us all who openly ogle him.
I just can't help myself, I felt like a drooling brainless fool next to him. From his posts I’d managed to find his tattoo artist both here in the city and back home where his parents still live–found that out too swapping social media platforms. His dad is a professor and his mum to my surprise is a British psychosexual therapist; a sex doctor.
Well I bet their conversations were open and educationally driven, no wonder Cass was incredibly smart.
His grandmother has shared her praise online over him getting top grades last year, the man becoming more of an anomaly to me.
He's funny, kind, aware he's built like a god but is so humbly gorgeous, and smart?
The real kicker is that he's oblivious to it all, as he blushes and smiles his way through situations.
I want to crack him wide open and see what falls out.
Let him out of his cage to show everyone who he really is.
I can tell he's bottled things deeper than he realises.
First task to unleash the real Cass; get him to let out the masked devil I saw a little glimpse of before he puddled under my touch.
I’d given Cass my phone number, but still hadn't received anything from him after a couple of days and I was tired of waiting. I wasn't going to unpack right now the fact I wanted more, desperately.
I wonder if he'd figured out the clue I left him? The little ghostie next to my name was going to one day blow his mind, if he didn’t decide to strangle me to death with those sexy large hands. I was hoping for a happy ending, but like I said, I’d planned no end game.
Stripping out of my t-shirt, I fiddle with the ring light, setting up the right brightness and tilt it perfectly against a plain wall in my bedroom. I had a plan to unlock the true Casper, and it started with some saucy videos that would tease the internet.
Entering my masked thirst trap phase.
Last night I conjured everything up, creating social media accounts under the guise @yourghostboy, with ‘scream for me’ as the only line in my bio, followed by a bunch of emojis.
Was that sexy? I'd thought a little too hard about it all, but decided to snap some pictures in my ghostface mask and then planned for the first load of content to post. Hence me rubbing baby oil onto my trim muscles, found under the shared bathroom sink and I don't even want to know which of my house mates it belongs to.
Deciding the video needs something a little extra, I play with the remote for my lighting around my desktop and it casts a deep red glow. There's the ambience I want. Returning on camera, I set my phone to record and think about everything I learnt from shamelessly scrolling masktok for hours.
Look scary and tease the viewer while you do it.
Tilting the camera upwards from its tripod, I loom over the phone and make sure to flex my outstretched arm.
The light slithers crimson amongst my skin, highlighting each ridge and dint in my abs.
I’m avidly in the gym most days. Serves to burn off the corpus amounts of energy I feel simmering under my skin.
If I stay active I can focus when the time comes to sitting down and writing, that has to always be my core focus.
I tilt my head slowly and the fabric around the mask floats down at this angle, making it look like the viewer is below me, peering up into the soulless black eyes of the mask.
Pressing a flat palm to my chest, I slowly run it down myself and stop just above the waist band of the black trousers loosely hanging off my hips.
I'll cut the video out there, make the viewers think I was trailing my hands even lower.
I don't really care about them though, this is all for him.
It takes me less than an hour to film a couple more from different angles and I change the lighting too, cutting the footage up and then spend the rest of my time hunting for the perfect song to get this bad boy trending.
I'm fully invested and it's actually rather addictive.
The whole profile is a part of my master plan, maybe a little spontaneous, but what my therapist doesn't know can't hurt him. Ha! I don’t have a therapist.
Smirking, I decide on a song by Deftones which is slow and sultry, writing the caption What’s your favourite scary movie? Engaging and pretty tame for my first time.
The followers and likes start to immediately roll in, moths to a fresh masked man flame.
The comments are actually quite feral and I can't hold in my laugh, stretching out on my bed after putting the filming equipment away before either of my house mates get home.
I mean they'd probably not bat an eye. I'm usually up to some sort of antic to appease the constant buzzing in my blood, but then they'd ask questions to which I'm not ready to answer yet.
Swiping up to the search bar, I type in the entire reason I'm doing this and find Cass’s social media profile, tapping the button to send him a message.
I've done all the rest with no hesitation, but now I'm practically sweating thinking up my first message.
I type something out and then delete it. Ah, fuck it. I type out the first message draft again and hit send, my breathing ragged.