Page 20 of Resist Me Not
“The story of too many.”
As we’re following our current path around a bend, Walker slips his hand into mine. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
I have never told anyone more than that my father died when I was young, but Walker’s storm cloud eyes look almost green today, like a hurricane waiting to consume me, and I find myself wanting to let him. “My father was… not a good man. Verbally and physically abusive to my mother. I don’t remember how much was directed at me, but I do remember how much she protected me from him. I was four when he died and left us better off without him.” When Mother bashed his brains in with that candlestick. It surprises me how much I want to admit that part too.
Walker squeezes my hand. The path has taken us into a small stretch of canopying trees with no other people in immediate view. He tugs with his hold on me to halt our progress and shifts to face me. “I’m glad you were young enough to not remember much and saved from having to live a lifetime with all that.”
“I’m glad too. It made me want to leave the world better than how I find it.”
“Yeah?” Walker worries his lips like he’s debating saying whatever has sprung to his mind. He’s blushing again too. “I guess some people want to pay forward the good they got, and others want to outdo the bad, either way it leaves the world better. Like you having a terrible father making you want to, um, be agood Daddyto someone someday?”
Oh Walker. I want to pin him to one of these trees, hoist him up its trunk, and fuck him against it. Two dates after this, and I will.
For now, I step closer into his body, clasped hands between us.
“I didn’t even know how much I wanted that until agood boycrossed my path.”
Walker shudders. The heat in my gut outweighs the heat from the bump on my head, as I grasp the back of his neck like last night and draw him in for a nibble at his lips. Just a nibble. Just a taste. Just enough that I imagine him growing instantly hard again from my purposeful tease. I move my other hand to the small of his back and am reminded of the tattoo hidden there, spiraling up his spine. I am so very looking forward to seeing it in full.
“Sucha good boy,” I breathe against his wetted lips.
“Fuck…” he gasps.
The ring of a bike bell alerts us to no longer being alone in our canopy of trees. We dart our attentions down the path and jump to one side just as a cyclist nears. She is wearing a very knowing smirk as she passes us.
“I, uh, might need us to walk a little slower for a few paces.” Walker clears his throat, readjusting his grip on my hand.
Knowing how easily I can get him hard delights me, and it’s difficult to keep my eyes off him as we continue down the path. It’s only when we exit the tunnel of blooming branches that I realize my distraction in Walker made me forget my other purpose for choosing this location for our date.
A child rushes past us, giggling as she escapes the clutches of her mother, who is trying to seem nonplussed but is thoroughly irritated given the twitch in her cheek.
I had let Walker think he was steering us, directing us, while subtly ensuring we went the right way to end up at this location at the appointed time.
“Shit, is that the drunk from the other night?” Walker whispers, nodding at the man on a nearby bench, who is watching the mother and child.
“Small world,” I say.
It isn’t. Itis, but this is a purposeful coincidence. The mother of the little girl is not the wife from the other night. The man meets his mistress and their two-year-old daughter here to keep things quiet. The mistress isn’t all that great of a person either, considering she wants the child support more than the child and gouges him for money constantly, while threatening to go public with his infidelity. He’s a minor politician on the city council, and VP of the local Saks Fifth Avenue.
It was easy enough to learn all that from just his name and following him home and around the city for the past few days. Learning of this meeting was another opportunity to confirm what I already suspected. These people are both scum, but perhaps only he is worthy of a reckoning. The mistress is at least putting in some effort with the child, and there is an occasional fondness in her smile that proves she isn’t completely unfeeling toward her daughter.
The man on the other hand, Reginald Wayfair, actually flinches when his daughter runs up to him and tries to climb onto his lap. He adjusts her next to him instead like she is an unwanted lap dog or insistent cat rather than his own kin.
I like animals, by the way. I was never the type to “practice” on them like is so common among my peers. What would be the point? Animals, pets, all serve a purpose, and are innocent in ways that people rarely are. Unfortunately, animals seldom like me. They sense my… wrongness, and so it is best to avoid dogs in particular. People tend to not trust others who dogs shy from. I like cats better anyway. Independent survivalists who kill as needed and don’t care what anyone thinks? How could I not?
“That is not the woman he was with the other night,” Walker recognizes the truth as the woman joins the disgruntled Wayfair.
“Too much to hope that it’s his daughter and granddaughter?”
“Definitely too much,” Walker snorts. “His wife wasn’t old enough to have a daughter that age. What is it with people? Is it really that hard to leave someone if you want to be with someone else, instead of cheating?”
“Maybe she’s his sister,” I continue to play dumb.
“You don’t believe that. I might suck at reading people, but even I can spot someone desperately trying to not be noticed.”
He’s not wrong. The real trick, as I have mentioned before, is to not try so desperately, but most people act extra suspicious when trying to be clandestine. Or breathe harder and stomp louder when trying to keep quiet and not alert the killer to their location.
Trust me, it never works. Human nature always betrays you.
