I'm fixated on Stella more than it's good for my state of mind, not that the intoxicating feeling is not sweet and exhilarating. I don't want to call it that, but you know what I mean.
I haven't seen her since my impromptu visit and this badly needs to change. Alas, I don't have an entry, no more than I had before our first meeting. Before parting with her, I asked for a way to get in touch, but she brushed me off. You had no difficulty finding me today, did you? she told me laughing.
Today I make a slightly different plan to meet the damnable slut, hopefully leading to similar, if not better results. I stay up late into the night, way past my usual bedtime. When I finally go to sleep it's 1 a.m. I set the alarm for four thirty.
My body hates it when it goes off and most of my mind wants to give up, but I have a plan. And I am the guy that sticks to plans. I rush into the shower and then to the street. Before long, I am in front of Stella's building, in front of Stella's door.
I ring the bell and wait. Nothing happens. I ring again and still nothing. She wouldn't do that, would she? I reckon a number of things might be, including that I came here for nothing. I descend the stairs and get out of the building,taking in the cool morning air.
It's not bad this neighborhood. Not expensive, but also not without charm. It's on the side of a hill, overlooking the University and many hip quarters. The street in front has a steep incline, which possibly explains the depressed rents.
There's a small piazzetta twenty meters down the street, with a fountain that's now shut off. If Stella is not yet home, which would be the scenario working best for me, I should be able to see her approach from there. I walk to it and I sit on the basin wall around the fountain. It's five fifteen.
When she arrives at five thirty I fail to spot her. It's her who walks to my station, clunking her heels on the cobblestone, stopping a meter away from me. Did I fall asleep?
"Evan, it's you again."
My mind is trying to fire up against the oppression of sleeplessness.
"Hi. Stella. Good morning!" I'm not going to win many girls with this line, to say nothing of its delivery.
She looks as bad as I feel, if not worse. She wears a transparent red shirt, left sleeve almost torn off from shoulder, right sleeve missing its lower end. Under the shirt is a black bra, two triangles held by a horizontal band under and a strap for each of them going over her back. Except that the left strap is torn too and the left piece hangs from the chest band, pointing down instead of up, leaving the tit and pierced nipple exposed. She was wearing stockings when the night started, now the right leg is mostly holes, still hanging on a black suspender, and the left leg is mostly missing, with what's left of it collapsed over her ankle.
Her crimson skirt and black platform heels have survived unscathed. She wears multiple rings and bracelets, a small silver necklace, large, round earrings (I'm surprised she still has them), and a small ring in her left nostril.
Her hair is curly and blonde, with red and purple strands, coming down half way over neck.
"Stella, darling, whatever happened to you?"
She looks tired and yet she smiles.
"Girlfriend threw you out? Come on up."
Once we get inside her place, the rhythm of the morning changes. It's warm and quiet and I feel relaxed. Stella drops her ruined clothes in the garbage bin and the skirt in the laundry basket, then disappears through the bathroom door. I take the hint and drop everything I have on me on a chair, before following her. I find her in the steaming shower area, head covered in shampoo foam. I step into the shower too and I soap up, but my attention is mostly on her bits. Cheeky ass, narrow waist, soft tits. Boy parts. There's no one part of her fit, smooth body I don't like. If she were a girl, she'd have strong arms and legs.
