Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
I don’t know what’s going through his mind right now, but I’m not interested. It was a one-time thing as far as I’m concerned, something I’m not going to dwell on or feel shame over, but there is no burning need inside me to force it to make sense.
It was… a need met. An itch scratched.
Hell, that’s giving it way too much credit.
It was a weird once-in-a-lifetime sexual opportunity that came about due to my new surroundings and—
Once-in-a-lifetime? Really?
Fine. I’m slutty, what can I say?
I still don’t feel any shame.
And I do not look over my shoulder. Not before I order, not while I order, and not while I wait for my coffee.
I give him plenty of time to go somewhere else.
But when I turn, he’s still there. Lifting that one finger at me again.
And this time, he does beckon me. Then he turns and walks into the trees.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I mutter this under my breath, then look around, to see if anyone is paying attention.
No one is, as far as I can tell.
When I look back at him, all I catch is his bare back disappearing into the woods.
Nova, you will not follow that man into the woods.
Nova…
Nova!
But I’m already walking in that direction. Because… that kiss. Holy shit, that kiss. I mean, I don’t think a man has ever kissed me like that. Well, maybe Travis. But that was his one and only chance. I was leaving the next day for college. And, in fact, we never did see each other again.
No. One teenager’s desperate attempt to make himself memorable is not the same as this man’s all-encompassing lust.
Nova. You’re walking.
Yes. I am.
You’re walking towards the woods.
You’re very observant, monologue me. But save your breath. I’m going. At the very least, I need his name. I mean, what kind of man beckons a strange woman into the woods, helps her jerk himself off, comes in her hand, then just… walks away?
Not even a half-hearted ‘see ya later?’
Not even a ‘thank you?’
I need something to add to this story. I can’t leave it like this. It will drive me crazy.
I stop at the edge of the woods and look over my shoulder. There aren’t many people in the Square right now, and none of them are paying any attention to me. So I keep going. I head towards the trees where he disappeared and slipped into the thick foliage.
“Hello?” It’s kind of a timid whisper, so I say it a little louder. “Hello? Who are you? Are you following me?”
I roll my eyes at myself for this last part. You’re following him, idiot.
Right. But I need to fabricate some kind of excuse for what I’m doing. Because there is only one reason he wants me to follow him into the woods. Last time I didn’t really know what he was up to. Even if I suspected, it was an outlandish idea. But this time, I don’t even have that excuse.
So fuck it. I just need to own it.
I’m here because I want to be here.
And if I jerk him off again—or if anything else happens—it’s because I made a decision.
Not gonna lie, a little bit of slut shame washes over me. But I’m really not all that ashamed about it these days. I’m a grown woman. If I want to have a weird sexual non-relationship with a perfect stranger in the woods, I damn well will.
I go a little deeper through the trees and then I can see the lake through the leaves. He’s there, on the shore that passes as a beach around here, with his bare back to me, just kinda staring out at the water.
“What do you want? Who are you?”
He looks over his shoulder at me, his face backlit by the glare of sunshine. But he doesn’t say anything, just turns and looks back out at the water. The lake is calm today, no wind to speak of, and when I step out of the trees and onto the shore, the heat of the sun hits me.
“Are you just gonna ignore me?”
Nothing.
“Should I leave?”
More nothing.
“Fuck this,” I murmur. And I’m just about to turn and leave when he twists his body just enough for me to see his fingers. He’s beckoning me again.
I tap my foot. A little bit angry. But the ball’s in my court, so I have a moment to think this through.
Maybe he’s mute? This almost makes me laugh.
Maybe he’s dangerous and this is the beginning of something very bad?
Maybe he’s evil and this is the beginning of my end?
Or… maybe he’s just dark. And this is the beginning of something… interesting.
I like dark men.
And when I say ‘like,’ I mean I look for them. I crave them. Despite my poor, but also very average and normal upbringing, I want to walk that sharp, gray edge between good and bad. I want to know that edge intimately. I might even want to push its boundaries.