Page 121 of Texting Dr. Stalker

“I did something most likely illegal last night,” I hissed quietly into my phone.

“Let me guess. You performed coitus on your neighbour, all while wearing a mask,” Colin snickered. “I hope you used protection, Superman.”

I bared my teeth and rubbed harder at the chrome of my motorbike.

Luckily, I had a day off today and just like I’d reached my limit and needed an orgasm to think straight, I needed to go for a highly ill-advised, stupidly reckless drive on my most prized death machine.

Falling for Sailor was not good for my physical or mental health. I’d taken care of the physical pain this morning and now I was going to flush my mind and try to figure out how to free myself from the web of crime I’d found myself in.

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

“But you didsomethingto her.”

Flicking a look at Sailor’s place, I whispered, “I made her come.”

“With your cock?”

“With my fingers.” I cleared my throat. “And tongue.”

“Well, well…who knew you could perform cunnilingus with a mask on.”

“Can you stop using the correct terminology for everything? This is serious.”

“And that’s why I’m using the proper descriptions. I’m taking thisveryseriously.” His laughter switched to his doctor tone. “Tell me, Dr North. Seeing as you’re using me as your unofficial therapist, what do you think I should do with this information? Or better yet, what sort of prescription would you like me to administer now that you’re fucked?”

Throwing the buffing cloth onto the black leather seat of my bike, I clenched my jaw. “I don’t know why I bothered calling you.”

“Oh, I know. I know.” He chuckled. “It’s because you have no one else, and the mess of this arrangement is doing your head in. Your OCD at fixing things and being the good guy is now knotted with messy things and being the bad guy.”

Leaning against the bike, grateful I’d splashed out for a heavy-duty kickstand, I sighed and rubbed the indents on my nose from my glasses. “I should tell her, right? I mean…she’ll probably be able to guess. Surely, there’s some sort of sixth sense that kicks in that knows which people you’ve been intimate with.”

“I keep telling you, man, that Clark Kent effect is real. I reckon she wouldn’t even know it was you if you took your mask off. With the dark hair, brown eyes, and no glasses…you’re incognito.”

“And I think you’re batshit crazy.”

“I think if anyone is crazy in this friendship, it’s you.”

Glancing at Sailor’s house, I stiffened as she appeared on her garden path. In her arms, Peng lounged like a jaguar lolling on a tree branch, his little legs dangling on either side of her forearm.

He gave me a ‘I know what you did last night’ glower, all while Sailor smiled shyly in my direction.

Every part of me clenched.

“I gotta go.” I pressed the hang up button before Colin could reply.

Slipping my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, I stopped slouching and went to her. I froze on my second step, glancing at my motorcycle boots. I hadn’t worn them in forever, yet I’d put them on when I went around as X. Would she recognise them? Just how observant was she?

Her smile faltered as she noticed me coming toward her. Waving, she hightailed it to her letterbox. Checking it for mail, she looked a little disappointed to find nothing.

Had she hoped to find another gift from X? Perhaps the dildo hadn’t been that bad, after all.

What else could I send her? What other little keepsakes would help her heal day by day?

You’re done with that, remember?

You’re never allowed to see her again—let alone make her come, got it?

I cursed myself all over again for hinting that a second time was possible. I’d practically promised I’d stick something else inside her, all in order to make an escape without begging her to put me out of my misery.

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