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14
EMME
The week went by, achingly slow, and I still did not contact any of the people a normal person would have called, not my friends and not the cops. I decided to let my little adventure slide by until it blurred into the past. I would shed it like a snake sloughing off last year’s dead skin. And me, I was done with experimenting with my kinks.
I did make an appointment with a doctor. My explanation to them, that I’d been off doing dangerous kink and needed to know if I’d been infected with anything, was received with a severe, skeptical air. With the request form in hand, I went off to get tests done for all those unsexy nasties.
In a few days I would know if I had syphilis or AIDs or whatever other diseases made your bits fall off. Considering what I had seen and heard at his house, I was more likely to give Mr. Scott some STD than he was me.
The first day back at the college arrived. It was back to teaching biology for adults wanting to re-enter the tertiary education stream. I dressed in my demure black skirt and delicately floral shirt, adjusted the skirt, and put on a pair of low-heeled shoes. I was about to open my door to run down and catch the eight AM bus, when a text buzzed.
I lowered my handbag to the floor and fished out the phone. The message flashed up.
An unknown number. The summary hammered a nail into my heart.
Wear red today. S
“Fuck.” I put my hand to my throat. This had to be from him.
The arrogance was astonishing. How dare he instruct me.
Then I imagined him close and threatening, handling me as he wished to, and my panties dampened. Telltale wetness slipped from my lips below as they swelled.
I should not do this. Would not.
I raised the phone to contact the cops.
He knew where I would be, otherwise why bother texting this?
If I didn’t stop him, he would find me, hurt me…make me cry while he did unspeakable things.
I hugged myself. I was going to obey him anyway, wasn’t I?
“Shit!” I walked stiffly and stern-faced to the bedroom, as if someone might notice my flushed face and arousal and mock me.
I pulled a pair of lacey red panties from the drawer and swapped them for my skin-toned ones. Then I realized if he wanted me to do this as a signal, it needed to be visible. A scarf? I had a scarf with some red on it. I yanked it from the drawer and ran for the door, unlocked it, slammed it shut and locked, sprinted for the stairs. The elevator was slower when it was one flight only. On the way down, striving not to trip and kill myself, I flipped the scarf about my neck.
I was wearing red to tell this stranger I wanted whatever he meant to do to me. Totally fucked up. Just totally. I should be ashamed of myself. I was. In the bus those thoughts crowded out my awareness of everything else.
I nearly missed my stop.
I was so distraught and turned on, my panties were sticking to me as I jogged up the steps of Monarte College. After nodding to Mrs. Theodore, who manned the front office, with her spectacles, bun, and neatly arranged desk, I headed to the classroom. In the break room, where we had drinks and meals between classes, conversations seemed insignificant. I knocked back an invite from staid Mr. Holder to a small party on the weekend.
The day swarmed past, headily, as I wondered what and where and how He might turn up.
Not at school. No.
On the way home then? Unless he was messing with me and never intended to do anything? After all, I might set him up and cops might be waiting.
The trip home was uneventful. Maybe he was only messing with me. I unlocked the door, closed and locked it behind me, and slumped into the wall.
Semi-angrily, I tossed my handbag onto the table and sat on a kitchen chair to punch out a reply to the message from S.
Then I deleted it. Fuck him for toying with my emotions, and for making my insanity so obvious. I did have a death wish. I must have. What else could explain this craving?
I needed to talk this through with someone.
Instead of a text to Him, assuming that stranger was Mr. Scott, I began tapping out one to Charity. She was the only person who might understand and accept my dilemma and maybe even why I…
