Page 13 of Stranger Session

I’m about to leave, but curiosity gets the better of me and I open the notebook. Plain white pages stare back at me as I flip through from back to front, but then I land on something she’s drawn. This is a sketchbook.

Using the light from the computer screen, I study the picture with a smile on my face. She’s drawn a maple tree with a bench beneath it, and on that bench sits a camera.She’s not only beautiful. She’s talented, too. And she’s been thinking of that day as often as I have, apparently.

I pull out my phone and snap a picture of the drawing. I have plans for this.

My mission complete, I head for the door, but not before turning to catch a final glimpse of her shape beneath the sheet. “Goodnight, venti.”

Chapter Eleven

Mariah

The shower is my favorite part of my mornings. It’s a chance to refresh and energize my body and mind. The detachable shower head with the pulse setting isn’t so bad either. For my tired muscles, of course.

I get out and wrap a towel around me. Once I dry myself off, I pick up my moisturizer, flip open the cap, and squirt it into my hands. The creamy white substance wafts its usual fruity scent up to my nose, but there’s a hint of something else. The mildest smell I can’t place. I don’t mind it though, and I continue to rub it into my skin.

My phone buzzes, and I walk over to grab it off the nightstand. An unknown number stares up at me.

Hey.

Whois this?

So I guess this means you never saved my number?

My mind flashes to the picture with Sam’s number on the back. I didn’t put it into my phone because I’m not interested. I grab my discarded pants and pull the folded picture from the pocket. I verify the matching numbers with a sigh.

Yeah, sorry. How did you get my number?

I have my ways.

Now I’m just annoyed. I don’t want anything to do with him. I don’t want anything to do with anyone who was at that fucking photo shoot.

Please lose it.

I send the message and toss my phone onto the bed. I wish I’d never signed up for that stupid stranger session.

It’s bad enough that I’m still thinking about Del, even after he was such an asshole toward me, but now I’ve collected a creepy stalker. What sort of energy do I give off that would attract the worst kinds of men?

My brain superimposes Del into the stalker position, and I can’t deny the way that combination makes me feel. Why couldn’t it have been this way? If Del had been the stalker and Sam had been the asshole, life would be so much simpler. We’d all get what we want.

I close my eyes and imagine what it would be like to be hunted by Del. And what it would be like once he caught me. We could play out my secret fantasy I’ve never shared with anyone. Well, anyone aside from the randos on a fetish site I sometimes frequent. But they don’t know my identity,and that stuff never goes further than a little roleplay and rubbing one out on my own.

But what if it could be different?

Maybe I need to pay the site a visit. If nothing else, at least it will get my mind off of my current situation. I open my laptop and navigate to the site.

Del

The fucking assistant texted her. She clearly wasn’t interested, which is good, but I have to look into this guy. I search his name and come up empty, but then I search his number and find out everything I need to know.

It’s linked to a different name, but when I look up that name, the age matches. It also comes up with a nice rap sheet and a mugshot. Roger Mathy. Thirty. Convicted sexual predator for sexual assault perpetrated on a female victim younger than fourteen.

What an absolute piece of shit.

Does his boss know about his disgusting past? Would she let him pull girls onto his lap if she did?

Fuck that guy. Maybe I should let Sarah know who she hired.

A notification pops up on my laptop. Mariah has signed onto a fetish site, it seems. I mirror her screen and see her typing in a chat. What is my little venti girl doing here?

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