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The sun moved overhead, and the hours ticked slowly by. The sky darkened and the stars shimmered above, but I never left the hiding spot in the trees. Warm light seeped through the windows, and shadows danced in front of them. No, not shadows. Just the one. Just hers.
Her body was smaller than his, softer, and less wiry than his. Where her hair was the prettiest shade of brown, his was like dirt. Her eyes were massive and icy blue, like they were made from a sheet of ice on a lake. So clear, so bright, you got lost in them.
I didn’t know what his looked like, but I assumed they were just as shitty as his hair color. Just as unassuming and basic. Nothing like her.
How the fuck did a guy like him land her, anyway? She didn’t love him. Clearly. But she was afraid of him, and for that, I hated him. Absolutely despised the piece of shit.
She said she knew what obligation felt like. She said she understood why I stayed. But what was her sense of obligation to him? Why did she feel like she didn’t have a choice?
He was just a boyfriend, and a shitty, gross-looking one at that. She could do so much better—I could give her so much better. He was nothing. So why did she feel obligated to stay?
Chapter Thirteen
I sat outside Winnie’s house for hours today. My body ached from being in the same position for so long, and my eyes were tired and raw from staring at her house, watching her shadow in front of windows. But as she moved through the house, turning lights off but leaving the one in her room on, I thought it was time to go.
I couldn’t stare at her house while she slept. What would be the point of that? I was there to make sure I didn’t hear or see that man hurting her, and he hadn’t, so it was time for me to go. Next time, I’d be more prepared. With better clothes and a way to comfortably sit in the driver’s seat for hours on end, I’d be able to sleep there and watch over her. To make sure she was safe and that he wasn’t hurting her.
Even though my body was tired, my mind was wide awake. That’s probably why I found myself here again.
The Arcade.
It was late, and I was surprised the store was still open. I stepped inside, the familiar chime above the door signaling I was home. I expected to see Barry behind the counter, but it was someone else—a man much bigger and more muscular than Barry could ever dream to be. More intimidating and less happy-go-lucky.
I felt my spine stiffen as I walked across the store to the desk. “What’s up?” he said, jerking his chin at me. “What can I help you with?”
I glanced at the curtain, unsure how to tell him why I was here. But I didn’t have to say a word; he just nodded and swept his hand behind him.
“I’m assuming you know the rules?” he asked tiredly, and I nodded.
“Where is Barry?” I couldn’t stop the question from coming out. I liked the kid, even if he was a bit strange.
“It’s his night off, so you’re stuck with me.” The man gave me a tight-lipped smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Rules?”
“I know them.”
“Figured you would,” he mumbled under his breath. “Head on back.”
He figured I’d know? What was that even supposed to mean? That I looked like I belonged here? Barry said I looked like I had a freak flag the first time I met him, and I still didn’t know what he meant by that, either. Did I have pervert stamped across my forehead?
I chose not to think about his words anymore as I skirted around the counter and past the curtain. Instead of heading to the live room in the back, I chose to explore one of the other rooms. There were a few voyeur rooms and a few regular porn viewing rooms.
The room was mostly dark as I entered it, the only source of light coming from a TV set up in front of a couch instead of a window. Otherwise, it was exactly the same as the live room I had been in a few days ago.
A piece of paper caught my attention as I sank onto the couch and moved closer, reading it in the low light.
There’s a list of porn sites at the bottom of this note. You have free access to roam all corners of the internet, but please, nothing illegal.
And clean up after yourself.
The Arcade
I snorted to myself as I skimmed the list of websites. I’d only heard of two, but there had to be at least thirty printed on the paper. One for hot college girls caught my attention, and I quickly undid my pants before typing it into the keyboard under the TV.
As soon as I hit enter, images of naked girls filled the screen. Video after video of barely-legal girls bent in various positions, all being stretched and filled by massive cocks. Immediately, my dick swelled as I scrolled through the site.
I hardly watched porn that I didn’t make myself. I could never find exactly what I was looking for. It was always too staged, too perfect. I wanted the awkward clumsiness that came from unscripted eighteen-year-old girls. The way they were both eager and shy to show off their bodies.
A still image of a girl tied to a bed, her hair short and curly, with welts across her massive tits, made me stop. Her arms and ankles were tied to each post of the bed, and a vibrator was pressed firmly against her clit, another one shoved inside her.
