Private corners of the mind 🔞 ✔️

Part 1

(Links to artworks used in this story can be found in the comments.)

...

Here I am, standing at his front door again. Like some child trying to sell cookies. As if he'd ever open to such a creature. By the standards of almost everyone else in the arena, he was not a good man. He'd likely poison the child before buying cookies from them, they'd say.

That's not how I saw him. After all, who was I to judge what was right and normal, anyway? I wasn't either of those things. Which might have been the reason why I've always felt a connection between us. An understanding.

I gave him as much time as I possibly could, but patience was never my strong suit. And who knows, maybe I'll be able to help. I have a lot riding on curing his illness. I would miss him terribly. Maybe too much.

Breathe, Natalie. You've had your differences and ended up on the wrong side of each other's weapons once, but you were the one putting that spider aside for him, giving him the chance to find a cure. He might not be exactly grateful, that wasn't his color even around you, but he shouldn't be hostile.

So I raised my hand and knocked.

I gave him two minutes, then I knocked again. And again.

I was about to give up when I heard his heavy footsteps close in. The door flew open and there he stood, dressed in his hazmat suit, evidently in the middle of work.

"Ehh... I'm s-sorry, docteur," I stuttered a little. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I just came by to... well, I wanted to see you. To see how you were doing."

Great job, Natalie. That didn't sound like a child at all, no, it was all grown-up woman. Loba would die of laughter if she heard me now. She's nice to me, but in that patronizing way that tells me she thinks I'm just a kid who's lived a sheltered life and doesn't know the first thing about the world. She's not wrong, but it wouldn't hurt her to hide it better.

I couldn't see Alexander's face behind the mask, but his eyes seemed to warm up at the sight of me. I could've imagined that, though, as his next reaction was a grumpy grunt.

"Come on in, Miss Paquette," he said almost softly. "I was just experimenting."

So I stepped into the dim light of his apartment on top of his chemical treatment plant*.

"Did you... did you have any luck with... well, the spider?"

I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud. He was dying and it felt like voicing it would only make it more real. My guts were in a knot even when I didn't directly think about his predicament.

He stopped and turned to me, giving me a curious look. I just stood there, playing with my fingers, hoping I didn't look as silly as I felt.

Then he took off the gas mask, revealing the surprisingly handsome face underneath, and smiled at me. Actually smiled, not smirked or sneered. My mouth succumbed to the urge to smile back.

"The treatment is underway," he said calmly, his raspy baritone caressing my ear canals. "I will need a few weeks, but the results are more than promising so far."

I actually let out a gulp of air I was holding back when waiting for him to answer. I felt so relieved I laughed. It wasn't the "I'm healthy" I was hoping for, but it was great news anyway. My body responded to another urge and I launched myself into his arms. I was ready to let go a second later, but he wrapped his strong arms around my torso and hugged me back, pressing my chest into the gas grenades he had strapped in the front.

A deep, guttural chuckle resonated through us both.

"I'm glad to see you so happy. I didn't... expect such a response. We were at odds a lot lately."

I had to let go of him, so I could look at him. His face was drawn and the sadness and guilt in his eyes made my heart clench. I know he was attached to me, even if not as much as I was to him, but it wasn't often that he acknowledged being hurt by our disagreements.

"You know I try not to judge you," I said with a sigh. "But you can do better. You don't have to be the monster the others see you as."

He smiled again and this time I was sure there was warmth in his gaze.

"Do you have time? You're welcome to stay for a bit. I'll make tea. I just got your favorite one, hoping you'd stop by for a chat."

A grin forced its way onto my face, there was nothing I could do to stop it.

"I'd love to stay," I nodded and went for my favorite armchair in his plain, basic, immaculately clean living room, while he disappeared in the kitchen.

In the beginning, I would be curious about his experiments, but I've come to realize they often clash with what I think is humane to do to any living creature, so I stopped asking. I just sat on my butt waiting for my tea like a good girl. My snooping urges announced themselves way too soon, though, and I started fidgeting.

I reached for one of the books on a perfectly aligned stack on the coffee table and started browsing through it. Chemistry was never my thing, though, so I got bored and put it back. Perhaps I could use my time better if I go to the kitchen and simply keep Alexander company until the tea is ready, before I lose my common sense and start exploring something private.

Just as I was almost about to do it, my restless hand felt something sharp at the edge of the cushion. I needed to check—what if he somehow lost a knife in his armchair and would hurt himself? Not that I was that curious, of course not.

Turned out it wasn't anything lethal—just a small rectangular piece of laminated paper. But when I turned it around, it got way more interesting.

I had to stifle a gasp. I remembered the time when I was feeling lonely and in need to explore humanity with someone else—as in have sex—and there was no friend with benefits available. I thought I could use one of those apps to find a simple hook-up, as I was never any good at dating, but realized I didn't have any picture of myself that didn't scream "a kid". And so I researched a little, went shopping and came home with a set of lace underwear and a selfie stick.

It was kind of hilarious to take those sexy pictures of myself, I had fun. But before I found the one I was going to use for my profile, I got aroused and just helped myself—which seemed to have taken care of the horny, so I closed the app, hid the underwear and the stick and never thought about it again.

Until now. Because the picture in my hand was one of those sexy selfies I took.

I lay on my couch in this one, holding my phone camera high above me. It was the angle someone would get if they climbed on top of me, only from higher up. The bottom edge reached to my belly button and I now felt like having only that lace bra on was way too slutty even for a hook-up profile. I was looking coyly into the camera, face tilted to the side, a naughty smile on my glossy lips. Wow, I must have been really horny that day—it felt so silly now, so out of character for me.

My brain initially refused to process this. How in the hell would this picture find its way to the crevice of Alexander's armchair? Did someone hack into my phone and post them online? I've seen it happen to people.

But then... Why would he download it, print it and laminate it? And what was he doing with it anyway?

Oh...

But he couldn't possibly... Could he?

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* He has a chemical treatment plant in Kings Canyon. I figured he would have a place to stay nearby as well.