"So what black jewelry do you have to wear on your wrist?" asked Chastity.
"Eek, I forgot about that. I don't think I have any."
"No bangles or anything?"
"Nope." I wouldn't be caught dead in loud, annoying bangles. My red hair was loud enough by itself. "I do, however, have a sharpie, white paper, and a glue stick."
"Classy. What about watches? Didn’t you say you used to love wearing watches?"
She was right. When I was a kid, I thought watches were the ultimate accessory. Sexyandfunctional? Yes please. Thanks to my watches, I had never been late for a single class.
I opened my jewelry box and rummaged through my watch collection. My first instinct was to go for the one where the face looked like a panda, but it was green instead of black.Damn.It would have gone so perfectly with my outfit. Instead, I grabbed a sporty black one...SHIT!The time read 7:45. How had I lost track of time so badly?
Yes, it was plenty of time to get there before the 8:30 appointment. But I wanted to get there at 8 so I could see my stalker. Him staring at me would be just the confidence booster that I needed before my date. God, I really loved the way he stared at me. I crossed my fingers and made a silent wish that he’d be Frankie.
“That’s perfect,” Chastity said. “There’s just one more thing.”
I strapped the watch on. “I have to get going, or I’ll be late.” There was a good chance that I’d lost my mind, because for some reason I was actually thinking about going through with this. And I knew that I’d chicken out if I stopped for even a second. I tried to step around her, but she blocked my path.
“We need to talk about this.” She held up my list of new things to try. “Tasting 32 random smoothies with gross names was not what I meant by living.”
I knew I should have hidden that.Telling her about the list was one thing. But her actually seeing the lame things on it? I snatched the list out of her hands. She’d added, “Participate in my three wishes to gain silver membership and then nominate Chastity to the Society.” It seemed like more of a bullet point that would benefit her more than me.
“Real talk,” she said. “I know you keep saying you’re fine about the divorce. And I get it. We both know you’re better off without Joe. But…it’s scary to start over.”
It was scary to start over.
“I know you don’t think you know who you are without him. But this is your chance to find out.”
I knew she was right. And despite how nervous I was, I was pretty sure this was the feeling I was chasing by guzzling gross smoothies. For the first time in years I was actually excited about something. I swallowed hard. “I’m going to get you that invite to the Society,” I said. Actually, Raven Black probably said it. Because Ashley Cooper was nervous AF.
“Atta girl. Now go bang Frankie and come back and tell me all about his nine-inch penis. And don’t forget Single Girl Rule #7: Pics or it didn’t happen.”
Yeah, I’d definitely lost my mind.
Stalker Problems - Chapter 14 - Blueberry Pie
Tuesday – April 11, 2023
For the third time ever, I hoped Iwouldn'tencounter my stalker. At least, not at the entrance to One57. Because I wanted him to be Frankie Underwood, waiting patiently for me in Suite 212. I could so easily picture our first real meeting. Definitely a love at first sight scenario. We’d smile at each other as I got on the elevator. We’d act all nonchalant about it, but then we’d get off at the same floor and laugh. And then when we walked to the same suite…we’d realize we were always meant to finally meet like this. We’d laugh about how he caught me with binoculars. But he’d confess that he was the one stalking me the whole time. And then he’d make love to me against a wall in his real estate office. Because we both couldn’t wait to make it to a bed. Too much pent-up sexual tension after all our eye fucking for the past few months.
I smiled. Yep, that was how it was going to go down. And his black Rolls Royce limo wasn't parked out front, so that gave me some small hope that this could all actually happen.
I pulled out my phone to check my appearance. I almost screamed when I looked into the mirror app and saw the dark-haired woman staring back at me.Oh, right. That's me. Raven Black, the seductress of the night.Or something like that. I had hoped that the wig would give me newfound confidence since I could leavethe incidentsbehind me. But it didn't. If anything, it just made me feel like people were staring at me. And wearing it gave me a brand-new fear: my wig flying off. I still hadn't decided where it ranked on my list, but my preliminaryassessment was that it would be similar to having a centipede crawl up my leg, but not quite as bad as being late for an appointment.
Speaking of being late...it was 8:01, and my stalker still hadn't made an appearance.I knew I said I hoped he wouldn't appear, but I didn't actually believe it would happen. I interacted with my stalker in fantasies. In dreams. But not in real life. If my stalker was Frankie Underwood, I couldn't even imagine how weird I would act. I'd probably jump up on a sofa Tom-Cruise-style and yell that I was in love. Or get my wig caught in the door. If that happened, I would literally flood his office with the gallons of sweat that would pour out of my armpits.
Coming here was a mistake.I should have let Chastity take my place. She belonged in the Society. Not me. Whoever nominated me had messed up. They’d probably meant for her to open that envelope at my divorce party. After all, we had been at her apartment.
I waited for twenty minutes, but there was still no sign of my stalker. And then I couldn’t wait any longer. I was already flirting with lateness. I ended my stakeout and entered One57. The lobby was just as sleek as the glass exterior. Every surface was polished to a mirror-like finish, including the hair of the man at the front desk. He was the human equivalent of a marble floor. The only thing amiss was the cluster of fancy old people crowding around the elevators. I had never seen so much fur in a single place.
If I had been a chinchilla, I would have run away screaming. But luckily I was a human woman. So I didn't have to scream until later when Frankie Underwood would inevitably lure meto a sex dungeon and make a coat out of my skin. The ancient Aztecs used to do that. They would sacrifice virgins and then male priests would turn them into skin cocoons and wear them all over town. I shuddered.
I had worse problems than Aztec skin cocoons, though. The chinchilla killers were hardly moving. After sitting there for a few minutes, I realized that only one elevator was working. Which meant there was no way I'd be able to get to suite 212 in time for my meeting. Unless I took the stairs.
I checked my watch. 8:28.No!Where were the damned stairs? It took me a second to find them, and as soon as I did, I took off in a dead sprint. I didn’t even slow down for the door. I just burst right into the stairwell.
Or at least, I tried to. I only got the door half open before it hit something, or rather, someone. All at once, papers flew into the air and I heard a thud, a grunt, and a sickening squish.Oh God. Did I just puncture someone's liver with the doorknob?I looked up to see my victim.
