The Dark Stranger

12. Me Time

It was the store manager calling to ask if I could come in early. She wasn't easy to say no to, so I said yes.

My average workday dragged like a thug's knuckles, but today it whizzed by. One minute it was ten o'clock, then it was noon. No sooner had I finished my first break than I was on my second. How did I achieve this time-traveling feat?

Simple. I was preoccupied with the events of the day before. All those handsome men, filling our living room, ravishing us. I'd never thought such a thing would ever happen to me. I never thought I wanted it to happen, either. I'd always felt the reality of sex in a large group would be nothing like you'd imagine, that it would feel sleazy, maybe intimidating, that you might feel a bit out of control. I guess it depends on who you do it with, and we couldn't have picked a nicer bunch of guys. They were passionate and strong and insistent, but always respectful. They seemed to take pleasure in our pleasure.

When I wasn't thinking about my night of unfettered sex, I was pondering my newfound magnetism. Why were so many guys attracted to me all of a sudden? Why was I smitten with my own reflection? Why were all these men—and a few women—taking a second look at me today?

I had a pretty good idea of what, or who, was responsible for the change. It had to be that alleyway stranger. I didn't know what he'd done to me, exactly, only that I had felt so strange afterward, and seen all those colors. But since then, something in me had definitely changed.

"Who cares what he did or how he did it," I mumbled to myself as I fixed a paper jam in one of the checkout printers. "Who cares why he did it! I should just enjoy it while it lasts!"

Daisy barely spoke to me during our shift. I didn't think too much of it at first. The store was busy, and we were both occupied most of the time. Then, during a lull, I caught Daisy watching me. We locked eyes for a moment, and then she looked away. This was odd. Normally, she'd flash me one of her disarming grins or, more often, we'd grimace in sympathy with one another as we suffered through another grind on the shop floor. I tried to catch her eye again, but she never looked up.

And then, just like that, my shift was over.

Daisy had started before me, so I was surprised to see her still busy as I clocked off.

"Are you working extra?" I asked her as I passed her checkout on the way out.

"They asked me, so yeah."

"Okay. When will you be home?"

"Later," she said simply, and greeted her next customer.

"See you later then," I said. She didn't reply.

So I wasn't imagining it. She really had a problem with me. A bad feeling grew in my stomach. I hated conflict, hated it when things weren't right. My thoughts instinctively turned to ice cream, my go-to when things got stressful.

Usually, once that notion entered my mind, the only way to extinguish it was to eat myself silly. Not on this day. To my surprise, I was almost immediately sidetracked. Instead of being overwhelmed by the urge to gorge myself, I couldn't stop thinking about the image of my nude self in the mirror.

It occurred to me that I had the apartment to myself for an hour or two. I sped home, went straight to my room, started pulling off my clothes... and then stopped. What was the hurry? I had time up my sleeve. Why not do this properly?

So I poured myself a large glass of wine, took it to the bathroom and ran a bath, adding some oils and bubbles. I lit all the candles I could find and placed them around the room. Then I climbed in and did nothing but sip my wine and enjoy the luxurious warmth, inhaling the calming fragrance that filled the steamy air. After a while, almost unbidden, I felt a stirring in my loins. My nipples perked up. I yearned to touch them, but I restrained myself.