Page 105 of Texting Dr. Stalker

Turning off my phone, I jammed my glasses back into place and stalked from the ward.

* * * * *

Eleven p.m.

Another long day from hell thanks to a couple of emergencies and a surgery complication by the trainee anaesthetist. Luckily, it’d all been handled, but now I was exhausted and in desperate need of a shower, food, and sleep.

At least I’d sent X on a trip, so I wouldn’t have to go over to Sailor’s house in the middle of the night like the last time I’d pulled a long stint.

And if she has another nightmare?

What are you going to do? Not go?

Scratching my five o’clock shadow that’d grown in, I pushed that question away. Obviously, I wouldn’t be able to leave her alone if she had another setback. I’d go to her and make up some excuse of coming home early, but right now, as Zander, I was free from responsibilities.

So why,why, did my feet change direction and head toward Sailor’s front door instead of mine? Why did I knock when most people would be in bed?

I stood with my heart drumming, waiting for her to open the door.

I forced my exhausted brain to come up with an excuse as to why I’d found myself on her doorstep. I’d ask about Peng. I’d discuss the bloody weather if it came down to it. I just had to see her in person after her performance in the garden and cold shoulder via text.

Two minutes passed and her door remained stubbornly closed. Checking my phone to make sure she hadn’t messaged me as X, I knocked again.

And waited.

And waited.

And when it became awkward and weird—especially to anyone peering at me behind their curtains—I turned, jammed my hands into my slacks pockets, and stalked back to my place.

* 27 *

Sailor

Imprisoned By Orgasms

FUNNY HOW HUMANS WERE WIRED.

For most of the day, I almost felt like my normal self. I made a nice summery dinner with a fresh garden salad and chicken kiev from the freezer. I used some scrap material from my market stall decorations and sewed a few toys for Peng to wallop around the house.

I surfed online for concepts of a country-inspired but modern living room to prepare for the next stage of my renovation. I even managed to turn off all the lights and walk up the stairs like a normal person instead of bolting up them like I was escaping the realms of hell.

I’d heard someone knock on the front door around eleven, but I’d already curled up in bed and the shadows slowly switched from soft and harmonious to sharp and murderous.

I didn’t want to go back into that slippery depressive place, so I stayed put.

Besides, the only person who would visit this late—without just sneaking inside because he knew where I kept my spare key—was Zander, and…I wasn’t really in the mood to make small talk with him.

If I was honest, I was depleted and low, and every part of me ached as if I’d attempted too much, believed I was cured too soon, and now I needed to recharge away from masked guardians and considerate doctors.

Peng snuffled in his sleep on my pillow.

Lowering my e-book reader, I sighed in the gloom.

I’d deliberately left my bedside lamp off, reading by the light of my backlit e-ink. I didn’t want the shadows to torment me, but they did anyway. The typical end-of-day cracking and creaking as the house cooled down seemed extra loud, interrupting my ability to concentrate on a single sentence.

God, what had I been thinking earlier today?

I’d been far too coy and crass—hoisting up my dress like that and waving that dildo around.

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