Page 14 of Lucky Shot

I don’t care if you’re wearing a damn parka or wrapped like a burrito in a blanket. I just want to chat and see your face, beautiful.

The screen connects, and I’m greeted with muted darkness, and just the hint of a masculine outline. I can see his larger frame sitting on a surface, but can’t ascertain any details about him or his space. It frustrates me that he’s still hiding from me, but at the same time, I completely understand he might not be comfortable, and it causesa thrill to race through my bloodstream that he’s allowing me to paint a vivid picture of him in my imagination.

“Hey, beautiful girl, thank you for agreeing to chat with me,” his growly voice says through the screen, causing a shiver to slide down my spine. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him to reveal himself to me, but I hold back. I don’t want this all to end. I am enjoying the fantasy of him that I have created in my mind. How he looks, sounds, and behaves, as he takes charge of me and bends me to his powerful will, and I’m loath to lose that with reality. No, some things are best left in the shadows. I moisten my lips and prepare to speak, and a groan comes across from his side, and I observe the shadow shifting. “God, beautiful, those lips of yours will be the death of me.”

I preen like a damn peacock at his words, and make myself more comfortable, as I sit cross-legged on the bed before the screen, allowing the thick, white terrycloth robe to part slightly and show a hint of my legs. “Beautiful, are you trying to bring me to my knees, ’cause if you are, you’re succeeding.” He certainly has a way with words. Some of my exhaustion instantly lifts, and a spark of electricity seems to liven up my body. I have yet to say a word, and I’m starting to feel a little self-conscious and foolish. After all, I was the one who said I was too tired for anything but chatting. “Hey, sweets, thank you. You’re very kind and charming. No, I am not trying to bring you to your knees, although the prospect sounds entertaining.” I wink at the screen, a flirtatious smile crossing my lips.

“How was your day, beautiful. Are you feeling alright? There seems to be some bug going around here.” His concern is touching, and just like that, I instantly relax, that unexplainable comfortable feeling, that we have known each other forever, settling over me. “Yeah, I know a few people that are sick right now. Hopefully, I don’t catch it. I have so much on the go right now. I just haven’t been sleeping very well. Hopefully, I’ll get some decent shut-eye tonight.”

“Anything on your mind bothering you?” He questions, and I watch as his shadowy outline lifts something from the darkness next to him, and I get a brief glint of a reflective surface and his fingers. I’m about to ask him what that was when I hear him taking a drink. In my mind, I picture his thick, masculine throat working, as he consumes the drink, the liquid wetting his lips and trickling down a powerful jaw, where I long to lick it up with my tongue.Fuck, and now I’m wet again.

“Beautiful?” he asks with amusement, and I don’t even realize I’m leaning closer to the screen, my eyes centered on where I think his jaw might be. “Huh?” I utter with confusion, not even sure what he just asked me. “How old are you?” I don’t know where the hell that question comes from. It’s like my brain has decided to stop working, as it overwhelms itself with made-up images of a sexy, secretive man.

“Are you curious about me? I like that. How about we trade questions? I answer one of yours, and you answer one of mine?” An amused chuckle fills the air and pulls a smile to my lips. “Deal, but you answer mine first. Also, I won’t tell you my name or where I am. Those are off-limits.” I wait with bated breath for him to refuse me, or try to negotiate my terms, but when he does nothing except move his shadowy head, in what I think might be a nod, I release the tension in my shoulders.

“I’m in my late twenties.” I notice he doesn’t exactly tell me the number, and I’m a little confused as to why. Could he be lying just to reassure me he’s not some old guy? “My turn, do you have any siblings?” His question catches me off guard. I was expecting him to reciprocate and ask me my age, or something about my cam business. “Yes.” I don’t bother volunteering that I only have a brother. If he’s goingto be vague with his answers, so am I. I try to think of something I really want to know about him. I don’t know how long we are going to play this game, and I am hoping I can discern if he might be ‘hoodie guy’. “Have you always lived in California?”

“Ugh, no, I’m actually only here for a short time for work. I’m originally from the Midwest.” He’s here for work, so he wouldn’t be a student at my college then. So maybe he’s not the guy leaving me the notes. I almost volunteer that I’m also from the Midwest, but stop myself at the last second.

He already told me last time that he’s not with anyone, so I don’t bother asking that again. We go back and forth with random questions about foods we like and movies we’ve seen, and discover that both of us are gothic horror fans. It’s getting late, and a yawn pulls from my lips. My eyes are getting tired, and I still have to clean up here, and drive back to my little apartment. This has been so nice, almost like a real date, well, if one sits naked underneath a bathrobe while sex toys are strewn around them, and talks to a total stranger hiding in the dark, kinda date. Still beats the one I had with Dwayne, I guess. “You tired, beautiful? You should get some rest. I... I would love to do this again. Just talk, if I haven’t completely scared you off with my love of raunchy movies, and flavored popcorn talk.”

I allow a real smile to grace my lips. I loved talking to him, and everything we discussed made me either smile or laugh tonight, and it helped banish some of the anxiety and stress I was feeling. I would really like the opportunity to do this again with him, and maybe it’s naive of me, but I think he’s being genuine, and really enjoyed spending this time with me too. Other than a few teasing comments, we kept it PG, and that was an unexpected treat. “Um, this is going to sound really forward and weird, and please feel free to say no. I totally understand if you never want to speak to me again.” The words rush out ofme before I can think them through, or stop myself. “I have to do a live shoot for a calendar, and need an extra for a filmed video... I know you said you were in Cali... any chance you would be interested in doing that with me?”Oh my God, what the fuck have I just done?

“Anextra?What does that mean? Like to be present and touch you?“ His voice has become deeper, and I can almost feel the serious tension even through the screen. What the hell has possessed me, to ask a total stranger on the internet to come fool around on camera with me and take sexy photos? Have I fully lost my mind and my morals? It’s one thing to perform for money, and get off knowing they are just watching, but no one but me is actually touching me. It’s a completely different thing to ask a guy who I don’t even know what he looks like, or his real name, to come fuck me. “Ah, I’m sorry, never mind, that was stupid, and I’ve just made it completely weird,” I gasp, my hand reaching over to my mouse to close off the chat window as my face goes hot, and I know it must be beet red with embarrassment.

“Don’t you dare close this chat. Answer me, beautiful. You want to meet me in person, and you’re going to be doing a calendar, and a video with someone else?” His voice becomes quieter and hoarser, as he asks me to clarify the disaster I just mentioned. If a hole opened in the ground to swallow me whole right now, I would gladly jump inside of it. I’m mortified at myself and my audacity. “Yes... I... I’m March.” Why the hell did I just tell him that? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? “Listen, I... I got to go. It was nice chatting with you. I’m sorry that I made it so weird.”

“A mhuirnín, I... I don’t even know what to say,“ he sounds at a loss for words, and my body is getting all hot and sweaty, every second that I’m still sitting here like a loser. “If you really want that, I would do anything for you.” His words cause my heart to gallop in my chest, as I hesitate with my hand on the mouse. Did I just hear him say he would do it?“What?I mean, really?“ I question with confusion, my voice sounding shrill as I feel a bead of cold sweat slip between my breasts.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t be willing to do for you,álainn. Just send me the details, and we will figure it out.“ He sounds so confident and sure, and it’s freaking me the hell out. I should have thought before I spoke, but now, how do I take it back? “I... I have to go. Have a good night, Irish,” my voice squeaks with panic. I don’t wait for him to try to say anything else. I close the chat and release a frustrated scream, dragging my hands down my face in horror, at what I have just done. What the hell possessed me to do that? I just made everything weird, and will probably never speak to him again. A pang of pain aches in my chest at the thought of never talking to him again, and I immediately feel a huge loss.

One thing is for sure. If we go through with it, I know what theme and holiday in March I’m doing.St. Patrick’s Day.The image of a fantasy version of him, dressed up as a leprechaun, makes me giggle as I race through my cleanup, so I can get out of here and go home.

Oh my god, I am such a brazen mess. Who is the new Phoebe, and what has she done with the shy, awkward version of myself? Maybe it’s him,Strokemyshillelagh,that’s caused this inexplicable sense of power and forthrightness to come out. Never in a million years would I have thought I was capable of propositioning a stranger for sex, on the internet, no less, but I just did.Holy shit.

Chapter seventeen

Phoebe

Iwave goodbye to Letty and Scott, two of the other performers here atBehind the Lens, as I rush for the parking lot, where my old, beat-up silver Honda Civic is parked. I lost track of time upstairs cleaning and putting away my toys, my thoughts on the insanity of my actions, and then chatting at the front desk. Full darkness has now fallen, causing creepy shadows to form in the almost deserted parking lot. I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have refused Scott’s offer to walk me to my car. I quickly look back over my shoulder to see if he’s still at reception, but notice that it’s now empty.Damn it.

My blood races inside of my veins, the sound loud in my ears, as I hold my keys gripped between my fingers, and try to remain in the sparse lights on the perimeter of the parking area. Why the fuck did I park so far from the front door? Oh right, I’ve never been here this late and never had to worry before. It’s close to midnight, and every horror movie I’ve ever watched is now reeling inside my mind.Way to go, Phoebe, today, you’re doing one stupid thing after the other.What’s up next, huh? Shall we pick up strangers at the drive-thru on the way home? Perhaps a fucking killer clown will pop up out of nowhere, or some unhinged psychopath will lure you into a van filled with some dark smutty books, and you won’t even hesitate to climb inside.

I’m a few feet away from my car when I hear something snap behind me. The sound is loud and ominous in the silent night air. Like the idiot I am, instead of running straight for my car, as any normal, sane person would do, I actually stand still and turn around, scanning the area, but I don’t see anything but two other vehicles in the parking lot. The thick trees, with their full branches, and deep shadows, look menacing, and my skin prickles with cold sweat, and a feeling of someone watching me. “Get it together, Phoebe, nothing is there,” I whisper to myself, and take the last couple of steps to my car at a run. I unlock the door, throw my bag, and rush inside, locking the door once I am safely within. My breathing is exiting me in harsh pants, the sound too loud in the closed silence of the car, as my eyes search out the front window for whatever is making me uneasy. “I’ve really lost it now, I’m seeing monsters in the shadows,” I chastise myself.

I don’t actually see anything, and I’m just about to break into a giggle for being a scaredy cat, when something underneath one of my front windshield wipers catches my attention.What the hell is that?I turn on all the interior lights and move closer to the window. At first, I’m confused. It looks like something is stuck under the wiper, forcing it to protrude at an awkward angle. There’s also a dark substance smeared across the lower corner of the windshield. I try to activate the wipers, and one moves, but the other is stuck.Fuck, fuck, fuck, what now?I swear it feels like I am starring in my own horror movie, and I am for sure the stupid character that dies right in the beginning. I’m tempted to just start driving home, never mind whatever is stuck to my windshield, but whatever it is, is now spreading, and streaking across more of the glass, with the momentum of the active wipers.Fuck, is that blood?

I reach for my bag and grab my small blade, clutching it in my hand as I once again scan the area outside of the car, but I don’t see any signs of anyone. I quickly dart out of the car door, before I can rethink how foolish my actions are, and round the front. I lean across the front bumper to get a closer look, and my eyes widen at what’s trapped under the windshield wiper. My stomach plummets as I realize it’s a dead bird, its head at an odd angle, and its blood is what is streaking across the glass.How the hell did that get there like that?Poor little thing. Somehow, it got trapped in there, and must have tried to release itself, and that’s why the wiper is bent awkwardly. I use my empty hand to lift the wiper, and the little broken body slips off and slides down the front of the car, with something wrapped around it.Jesus, what is that?I forget my surroundings as I reach for the bleeding bird, and realize it’s got a cloth or something wrapped around its little body. I place the blade down on the hood, as I attempt to untangle the rolled-up fabric, and when I finally get it loose, a scream rips from my lips, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The scrap of fabric has bloody words on it. My knees shake so badly that I have to smack my hands on the hood of the vehicle, to prevent myself from falling to the asphalt.

Oh my God, I grab the blade and force myself back into my car, cranking the engine and flying out of the parking lot. The fabric goes flying off the hood where I dropped it, along with the dead bird, as I race toward home. My hands tremble, and I attempt to hold onto the wheel, and not drive myself into oncoming traffic in my panic.

He was there atBehind the Lens, which means he knows where I work. He must know what I do for money, and he has some crazy idea that I belong to him. The words repeat over and over from my lips, each time becoming more frightening. ‘You are mine, pretty clover. I don’t share.’ What the hell does that even mean? Pretty clover? Oh my god! This has just gotten so much worse. The note is a threat, and so is the broken, dead bird. Is that what he’s saying will happen to me?

I should go to the police and file a report. This is someone dangerous who’s stalking me, and making crazy threats. My worry is that my story, and identification, won’t pass muster, and they will somehow discover who I am. All of the mafia families have the police on their payroll, and I’m under no disillusionment. I know whose territory I am in. The Russian mafia is no different than the Irish or Italian one. If they discover that I have been hiding in their territory, they will use me, as either a bargaining chip with my family, or as ransom. I can’t allow that to happen, not after everything I’ve done to be free.

I’ll just have to be more careful, and never be anywhere alone like that again. I have to figure out who this could be, and if they truly mean me harm. Once again, the thought that eitherStallion69orStrokemyshillelaghcould be who’s stalking me, enters my mind. Except one was just live on a chat with me, where I could at least see his shadow. Does that mean it’s the other one? Could it beStallion69who left me that message, and a dead bird to terrorize me?

Chapter eighteen

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