Watching Rory

J.S.

The following day I woke up to an empty bed and my pussy full of a masked man's cum.

A feeling of loneliness fills my head at the thought of being left after such an intense experience, but I ignore it.

There’s no room for me to be sad today. I'm moving.

After a scalding hot shower, I stare at my figure in the mirror while wrapped in a towel.

With my hand, I graze an ugly red mark that's beginning to bruise around my neck.  

No one has collared me until my masked man, and I'm not opposed to it happening again. 

Prior to the cluster fuck that occurred last night, I left out a pair of leggings and an oversized T-shirt for the workout I'll get today. My towel drops to the tiled floor, and I return to my room and put them on.

I expect to see a catastrophe when I step into the kitchen, but as I scan the surrounding area, I'm flabbergasted.

The broken glass on the hardwood floor and blood spots from Eric's gunshot wound has disappeared. Additionally, the shattered window has a board over it as if nothing had happened.

Did the stranger clean up the mess?

On my counter lays a note that reads.

𝓛𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓢𝓵𝓾𝓽,
𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮’𝓼 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓾𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝔂. 𝓙𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝔀𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓔𝓻𝓲𝓬 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓻𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂.
𝓙.𝓢.

Once I'm ready? What the fuck does that mean? And who is J.S.? 

*************************************************

I moved into my apartment three weeks ago, and everything is coming together perfectly. 

It's starting to feel like my forever home.

Even though my masked man hasn't been around since our night of kinky fuckery, I receive a photo from his past trysts every other day like clockwork.

Today's picture is from the event in my closet. I'm on my knees and covered in the stranger's cum.

My thighs rub together at the memory.

It’s sick, but I'm yearning to be touched, licked, and fucked by him again.

With the photo in hand, I wander to the living room to divert from my naughty thoughts.

It was the first room I finished decorating, and I had the time of my life choosing the decor myself. 

There’s a brand new L-shaped leather couch I bought from an upscale furniture shop downtown, and I had my dream Beauty and the Beast bookshelf installed with a sliding ladder and all.

I plant my ass on the couch to relax, but when I toss the photo on the coffee table in front of me, it lands upside down on the floor. 

Something is on it. 

It's a note, and as I read it, my heart races so fast it's about to burst from my chest. 

𝓜𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓪𝓽 𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓹𝓶.
𝓙.𝓢

Why does he want to meet? And at that terrible house of all places. 

Fuck, I'm so confused. 

While it would be best to rip the picture and pretend I never saw the note, there's a small part of me that wants to go.

The stranger said I would learn everything with time. If I don't go, I may never find out why he's been stalking me.

🖤 What do you think J.S. Stands for?