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And I’m not acting like myself anymore.
My pulse jumps at the thought of what everyone back home would say if they knew I was acting like this. They’d call the cops on me, or even worse…a doctor.
This kind of behavior would be deemed unacceptable but there were hardly any guys around where I grew up, and the ones who were didn’t even have a pinch of Hendryk’s appeal. Even if they’d had, I wouldn’t have been allowed to go anywhere near them.
I had such a strict upbringing that just saying hi to a boy got me grounded. School wasn’t an option for me, and I was educated at home where no male could look at me, speak to me or smile at me.
When I finally moved out, a whole new world opened up. Yet, the men weren’t quite what I expected. Until Hendryk. Is it even that strange that I’m so roused by him, considering my sterile background…?
Growing flustered again, I hurry after him and by the time he walks into the gym I’m out of breath. I’m also pretty sure I’ll faint if I don’t sit down.
I find the nearest bench, trying to compose myself but I’m not cut out for this. And I can’t keep tracking him all over town just to get that endorphin rush.
It’s starting to make me feel sick, feverish and I haven’t been eating properly since the week we met. Everything tastes bland and yet I feel like I’m starving. Leaning over, I rub my forehead but look up when Hendryk walks out of the changing room and playfully punches a sandbag.
He nearly knocks it down from the chain, but I think that’s accidental because he’s not a brute. His formal clothes have been exchanged for grey sweatpants and a white tank top. The new look awakens something primal in me. The tips of my breasts harden in my bra, stiffening so bad that it feels like I just dropped pebbles into the cups. A pant leaves my lips, turning into a smoky cloud in the air.
Grabbing a couple of weights, he stands in front of the mirror and starts lifting. I pick up my phone, turn on the camera and zoom in on him to be able to see him better. His face is grimmer than usual all of the sudden.
The gym’s crawling with other men who are just as brawny and whenever they pass him by, his features tighten. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he perceives them as threats. Maybe he doesn’t like the competition?
Not that Hendryk has anything to worry about, and he proves it when he drops the weights and starts bench pressing. The amount he can take is impressive and his muscles strain, his teeth clenching and sweat drips off his skin.
I never knew it would be this arousing to see Hendryk kill himself in the gym, but I can barely see straight anymore. Everything seems to have turned into a haze.
And I might lose myself in him, I might stop breathing yet the promise of a reward is too strong. But the funny thing is that I have no idea what that reward is. See more of Hendryk and chat with him? Sleep with him? Marry him and have his gigantic kiddos?
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I grow pensive. Perhaps there isn’t even a reward, just punishment. There’s the possibility that Hendryk gets furious if he realizes what I’ve been doing. But I’m not harassing him and I have no plans on making his life miserable.
What I want is innocent. And deep down, I wouldn’t even mind just taking the scraps. Happy for any crumb he might throw my way, and I know it’s wrong to think like that but a crumb from him feels like an entire feast from any other man.
There’s just something that Hendryk can offer that nobody else can give me. I shiver, growing cold and I don’t even realize how late it has gotten until it starts raining. Twitching, I figure Frau Falther must be home by now and I get up in panic.
I haven’t even finished my errands. I still need to go to the pharmacy and pick up the meds and dandruff shampoo! Damn! Isn’t that a buzzkill. Distraught, I throw one last, longing look at Hendryk before I’m forced to leave him for now. And already, I can’t wait for our paths to cross again.
5.
Hendryk
This world is going to pieces. .
Shaking my head, I run my pen over the paper, drawing a long-chin and small eyes. The guy looks slimy.
Just how you imagine a stalker would look like. He’s been charged for following his step-daughter everywhere, showing up at her school, harassing her by sending her dick-pics, and then he ended up threatening the girl’s mother when she said she was going to divorce him.
People like that are disgusting. Lowlife criminals.
But luckily, I don’t have to defend them. I just have to draw them. Putting my trusted pen down, I rise when court finishes for the day and grab my briefcase and coat. I stop to chat with some of my colleagues outside and inhale a couple of menthol smokes. The shit is highly toxic but I do it to gain rapport with the suit sharks.
Once our little outdoorsy locker room talk is over, I bolt. The air is chillier than usual, a few puddles still lingering on the ground from the rain last night. I wonder if park girl brought an umbrella, or if she got caught in the tempest empty handed. A smile tugs at my lips. Actually no, I should call her by her name; Ella-Ashley Shrapnel but it chafes a bit. The first part is as lovely as her but the last…Shrapnel?
It doesn’t suit her. Ugly surnames don’t belong on beautiful women, and I bet she’ll be happy to change it once a man puts a ring on her finger. She seems like the kind of girl who’d thrive in a marriage and she must be dying to stop slaving for that silly boss of hers.
How does she even manage to do it all? Running around here and there, carrying heavy stuff without ever complaining. I don’t think she seems strong enough for that. Her height is tiny, her bones practically paper thin, though I couldn’t help but notice that she has good hips. The kind that can pop out an eleven pound kid without breaking too much of a sweat.
And of fucking course, I can’t stop myself from imagining her in all the ways where shewouldbreak a sweat. Like when she has no choice but to take inch by inch of my extended anatomy. Not that I think that will ever happen. Or maybe it will, if I’m lucky. Who the heck knows.
Crossing the street, I wonder whether to grab one of those mortifying pumpkin lattes when I see a flashing ad for the latest Identity X novel. I forgot that was coming out, and I figure it’s best I get my hands on one before it’s sold out.
