Page 15 of The Shadows We Keep

The little clothing she had on is littered across her bedroom floor, a direct path to the bathroom. The tight leather skirt that clung to her pale thighs is nearest the door. I step over it, noticing her bathroom door is cracked open just enough that from this angle I can see the small, square mirror is partially fogged already. I take the smallest step to the left to catch the shadowed silhouette of her naked body through the glass enclosure. Heavy drops drag down the fogged surface, revealing a fraction more of her to me.

The song changes to a gravelly female voice against a backdrop of sensual instrumental chords. The lyrics catch my attention as her muffled voice sings along. They’re dirty and exactly what I want to be doing to her body.

Jesus, what is she doing to me?

Her hand slaps against the glass and a breathy moan fills the room. My cock twitches at the thought of strolling in there and shoving her body against the steamed-up glass before driving home into her tight center, but it’s not time for that, yet.

I shift my body away, tearing my eyes from the bathroom and notice my white note lays discarded in a pile of black lace, the bodice that cupped her small—but full—breast. Plucking it from the pile, I read the message, debating if I should let her see it after all. But something twisted inside wants her to know I was there, watching, waiting, and… claiming her as mine.

I slide it onto her nightstand, message down. The dark wood and clean space make the card the focus. The water’s still running as I look around her room, taking it in. It’s messy, but only with clothes. There are no keepsakes or clutter. The room is decorated minimally, with only her bed and a pair nightstands with a simple lamp.

Anyone could live here. There’s no personality. The walls are empty. There’s no pictures of her and her friends. Rounding the corner from the living room, I see she doesn’t even have takeout menus secured to the fridge.

A pile of unopened mail covers the counter that separates the kitchen from the living room. Her place is so small she doesn’t have a table to eat at, only a little bar area. Flipping through the papers, I find it’s mostly junk, but a personalized letter grabs my attention. I shove it into my back pocket and pull out another white card.

I scan the counter for a pen to leave a second note for her to find, but she’s got nothing. The white card looks plain to the naked eye, but it’s my business card for those who know how to view the heat activated ink.

I pull open the drawer in front of me and luck out with a fine tipped marker. Popping the cap off, I jot down my thoughts and hide it in her mail. Maybe she’ll find it… Maybe she won’t.

The water switches off, and the bathroom door creeks. I pull up my dark hood and creep back down her front hall to the door.

Without turning around, I reach behind me, twisting the lock out of place and the handle slowly to pull the door open. I step through and close it just as slowly, ensuring my clean exit. Shoving my hand in my jean pockets, I skulk down the staircase, back out onto the sidewalk and cross the street to my building.

I ascend the last step before my building’s entrance, my hand rests against the cold mental handle as I pause turning to glance at her windows. Her thick curtains are closed, but that slight glint of light passes underneath. This is only the beginning for us, my little dark one.

EIGHT

KEIRA

I Want It All – Cameron Grey

The soft towel clings to my damp body as I flip upside down to dry my hair, ringing out most of the excess moisture. The alcohol is slowly wearing off and after that burning shower and my self-given orgasm, I’m ready to climb into bed and pass out.

Shuffling to the kitchen, I quickly grab a glass from the cabinet and the pitcher of water from the fridge. The aspirin clinks against the plastic bottle as I shake three into my hand before popping them in my mouth and washing them down with a swig of icy water.

I trudge toward my room, but the sweating glass in my hand pauses halfway through its journey to my mouth. I squint in confusion, eyebrows crinkling before my head tips to the side as I inspect the front door.

That’s strange, I could have sworn I locked the front door on my way in.Flipping the lock and turning off the kitchen lights, I brush off the situation.

Falling asleep at the perfect extent of intoxication makes a drastic difference to your morning wake up. Too drunk and you’re bound to get the spins as soon as your head hits the pillow and your eyes close. Not enough and you miss the blissful heavy sleep that makes you feel like you slept for years, waking in a different century.

I drop my towel and climb into bed, dragging the heavy blankets over my body. Reaching over to turn off the light, the note the cocktail waitress at the club handed me catches my attention. What the hell, I know for a fact I didn’t put that there. It’s eerily placed, perfectly center on my nightstand, not tilted one way or the other, but perfectly aligned with the sides and the front.

I slide it to the edge and slowly lift the corner to see what’s written underneath. My skin pebbles with goosebumps the moment the words come into view.

You let him touch what’s mine.

It shouldn’t rattle me. I knew the moment she placed that white slip of paper in my palm, not trying in the slightest to hide her sneer, it was from him. A replica of the note from the pizza shop, but with a new message. I slipped it in my bra, not knowing where the rest of the night would take me. Even though I’d come close to letting Ryan fuck me right there on the dance floor after I cleared my head, I knew I didn’t want to invite him back to my place.

He was good looking, but I wasn’t worked up enough. Getting myself off and passing out sounded better than a possible lousy lay and an awkward morning. I’d forgotten about it on my walk home, as the liquor in my veins set in, and sleep called to me. I’d undressed without care, wanting to wash off the slight scent of Ryan that lingered on my skin.

So how the actual fuck had this little white card ended up on my nightstand?

I lie on my back, holding the card up in front of my face, reading his thick script repeatedly. Before I know it, I push my covers off and I’m standing against the wall, pulling the bulky curtains back just enough to peer out into the dark.

His apartment is dim, backlit from the kitchen, the lights near the floor to ceiling windows turned off. Where my windows are always veiled with curtains to block out prying eyes, his are on full display for anyone who cares to take notice. Which I take full advantage of on the regular.

The soft fabric grazes against my naked skin, my nipples pebbled against the frigid air. The high back leather armchair he occupies sits a couple feet behind the center window. His lengthy form is nothing but a shadow for my eyes. His body’s relaxed, leaning back, legs spread wide. My core tightens as I envision him sitting there watching me.

---