Stalker by Lena Little
7
Sebastian
Ienable the microphone on Sophia’s cameras and sit back in my apartment, popcorn in my lap and prepare for the show.
As if the tilt, pan, and shift security cameras weren’t enough, I have the industry leading Panasonic FZ300 on a tripod in front of me. It shoots in 4K and basically sees in the dark. And with Sophia’s lights dimmed it’s exactly what the doctor ordered.
My obsession pulls a book from underneath her bed, but as I lean in and zoom the camera I quickly realize it’s not a book. It’s a diary.
She moves back to her bed, her perfect little breasts jiggling underneath her long, damn near transparent nightshirt.
“Come on, Princess. Give me something to work with here.”
I zoom in as far as the camera will go, but it’s not enough to see what she’s writing in her diary. Luckily she talks as she writes, so I crank up the volume of her security camera, even more, the earbud in my ear crackling.
“Hmmm,” she says, tapping the end of her pen to the book as she looks up and to the left, a body language tell signifying she’s trying to recall a memory. Then her eyes drift straight down, staying to the left as she telegraphs she’s having an internal dialogue.
“Dear Diary. I have no idea what happened today,” she writes, “but I think I learned something about myself.” Another pause. “I always thought my life was fine, a bit challenging, but still okay, but today I realized that maybe something’s been…missing…all these years.”
I swallow hard and lift my hips up from the chair, the circulation in my groin straining.
“I like to think I can do it alone, but there’s something nice about having a man…a…a man who’s…like a father figure who can be there for me.”
I swallow so hard I start coughing, a kernel of popcorn lodging in my throat.
She writes some more but this time doesn’t speak as she writes, although her expression changes from trying to understand her feelings to embracing them, a naughty grin covering her face.
“Come on. Say something,” I voice out loud, but she doesn’t give me anything else. It doesn’t matter. I know what needs to be done, and I’m more than happy to give her just what she needs. What we both need.
