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Wear this one. It looks stunning on you. — D
That’s it. He signed it? I guess if you’re going to have a crazed stalker, it’s better that he have money to buy decent creepy-ass gifts, right?
I toss the card on my bedside table and move the tissue paper aside to reveal the same black dress I tried on this morning at the store. Okay, that’s beyond fucking creepy. This is just downright terrifying. I look over my shoulder, that sense of being watched stronger than ever before. Dropping the dress back into the box, I turn on my heels and start my walk through the apartment. Checking every room, every cabinet.
Fifteen minutes later, I sigh in relief. There is no one here. I can’t accept these gifts though. I need to give them back. Or throw them in the bin. Before I can talk myself out of it, I pick up my phone and dial that unknown number. And this “D” person answers on the very first ring.
“Little Bee, is there a problem?” His deep, raspy voice sends shivers down my spine.
“Yes, a big one. Whatever game you’re playing, I’m out. This has gone too far, and I don’t want to play. Forget I exist, and stop sending me shit. If I want to bloody buy stuff, I’ll buy it myself.” I’m met by silence after my rant. I pull the phone away from my ear to check that I’m still connected. I am. “Are you ignoring me?” I ask him.
“No, just trying to figure out why you’d deny yourself beautiful things. I know you like that dress,” he says.
“That’s not the point. I’m donating it to whatever local op shop I can find. I don’t want shit from you, or anyone else for that matter.”
“That’s not true, Little Bee. There is something you want. You just don’t want to admit it,” he says.
Call me stupid, but I buy into his bullshit. “What would that be?”
“You want me to make you come again. You want me to make your body tremble with desire the way only I can. You want your pussy to pulse around your fingers as you listen to my voice while you drown in pleasure.”
Well, shit, when he puts it like that, I can’t deny that he’s right. I do want that. Not that I’d admit it to him.
“Lie down on the bed, Little Bee,” he says.
My head whips around.How does he know I’m in my room?
“Do you have cameras in here? In my room? How do you know where I am?” I ask him.
“Lucky guess. Now, lie down.”
“No, I think I’ll stand right where I am,” I say, even though I do walk over to the bed and sit down.
The chuckle that fills my ear sends a bolt of lightning to my core. Damn it, how is his voice able to do this to me?
“What are you wearing right now?” he asks.
“Why don’t you tell me, seeing as you seem to know everything?”
“You’re wearing a pair of denim shorts that are far too short to be worn in public, and a white tee that shows the lace of your bra under it,” he says.
I look down at myself, at the exact articles of clothing he just described.
“Tell me, Little Bee, how does it make you feel to know I’m watching you?”
“Petrified.”
“What else?” he urges.
I think about it. I’m scared. Don’t get me wrong… I know this is going to end badly for me. But beneath that, there’s a hint of excitement too.
“I feel alive,” I tell him. “I feel like someone sees me, the real me, not the version the rest of the world wants me to be.”
“I do see you, Little Bee, and you’re fucking breathtaking.”
FIFTEEN
Her sharp intake of breath tells me my words have hit her hard. They’re true. I wouldn’t say that shit to just anyone. If all I wanted was a quick fuck, I could go out and have any chick in my sight line. I don’t want that with her.
