Stalker by Lena Little
3
Sebastian
Keeping an eye out over my shoulder, I catch Sophia leaving the apartment complex and double-back to the complex’s reception where I inquire about the apartment for rent.
Once I put the cash on the table for the first and last month’s rent and the security deposit, the woman hands over the keys and takes me to it.
Ten minutes later and she’s gone. I move to the window and look straight across…a dead shot into Sophia’s place. “How do you like that view, Louis?” I ask my newly adopted French Bulldog. I pour some water into the doggie dish I brought with me and slide out of my place, moving through the courtyard toward Sophia’s place.
I can’t help but laugh at the name I chose. Steven, because I saw her collection of Stephen King books on her Kindle, and also Inc. Magazine had some story online back in May 2017 that said it’s the number one name to give your son to ensure success. And it sure looks like it worked.
She bought it hook, line, and sinker, and it never occurred to her that I was the one who doctored the wiring on the car so I could come in this morning and play hero. The only trick was staying far enough back while I waited on her to leave her apartment, seeing as I didn’t know what time that was going to be. The last thing I needed was someone seeing a six foot five inch guy lurking in the bushes.
Sliding a skeleton key inside her lock, I give it a wiggle, and then another, and the door pops right open. I move inside casually as if I belong and shut the door behind me.
Relief at how easy that was washes over me and excitement of what I’m about to find thrills me. On the other hand, I’m disappointed that the door opened so easily and she left the house without securing the deadbolt. I’m going to have to make sure she understands her security is paramount to everything in this world.
Moving through the tiny apartment, the first thing I see is a coffee cup on a table that seems to be doubling as her studying table and dining room table. Next to the cup is a spoon, and I pick it up and look at my reflection in the scratched silver.
When I catch sight of her lipstick on the spoon, I can’t resist. “Let’s see how you taste.” I bring the spoon to my mouth, closing my eyes and sliding it past my lips and onto my tongue. “She likes her coffee sweet, or maybe that’s just her natural taste,” I say out loud to clearly no one but myself.
Placing the spoon down I take the cup and run the tip of my tongue along the edge, realizing at this point I’ve basically just gotten as close to kissing her without our lips actually making contact, or clearly without her consent. That will come.
I set the cup down and move into her bathroom, looking at her minuscule makeup collection. It’s good because she’s as naturally beautiful as they come. She doesn’t need to be wearing makeup for me and certainly not to impress other guys. There are no other guys. If there is or was, that ends now.
Taking her hairbrush, I bring it to my nose, inhaling her scent before removing exactly five hairs and then carefully placing them in a tiny zip pouch in my jacket pocket.
There’s something about being here that makes me feel so damn alive. Usually when I do a little breaking and entering it’s because I’m setting up a nice place to sit before my would-be target arrives home, only for me to swiftly execute him while sitting on his couch.
This…this is different. This is me planning for a big event in the future all right, but not one that ends in tragedy. One that ends in triumph.
I’m going to get her out of this rundown place and get her into a big house where she belongs. One with a big enough yard where our kids can run and play and laugh and jump and scream until their heart’s content.
A property big enough that she’s got all the room she needs, but still is cordoned off from society and kept safe, so what damn near happened last night never happens again.
Moving to her bedroom, I look at the tiny twin-sized mattress and wonder how in the world I’m going to claim her there without breaking the tiny thing into a million pieces.
The question lingers over me as my lack of sleep from last night catches up with me. Seeing her girly dresser just a few steps from the bed I open the top drawer and find exactly what I was looking for…a fresh pair of panties, with little strawberry designs covering the white fabric. I ball them in a fist, bringing them to my nose, and then inhale deeply, causing my cock to hammer in my pants.
I move back to the bed, lying my big torso across her bed and squaring my knees off the side so my feet rest on the floor. I need to respect her bed, it is where we’re going to conceive our children after all and I don’t want to dirty it with whatever’s on the bottom of my shoes.
Keeping the panties held up to my nose I slowly drift off to sleep, wondering how I ever lived without her…and determined to find a way for her to feel the same, about the killer who’s currently trespassing in her most personal of spaces.
