by Alex Grayson
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Obsession
Flora Burgos
Obsession.
Stalking.
And explosive passion.
It's only crazy if it's one sided.
1
I walked out of the grocery store, leading the way to my car. Clicking the button on my key fob to open the trunk, I moved to the side and waited as the bag boy unloaded my cart.
I always felt awkward, just standing there, waiting, not speaking, but I didn’t want to get in my car while he loaded everything in. That felt a little too pretentious. So, I stood around and scanned the parking lot, looking for my mysterious follower.
That was when it caught my eye.
The sleek, black, low-slung motorcycle had insanely high handlebars, and gold artwork that made it look like gargoyle heads were lunging through the metal.
It was the most bizarrely beautiful machine I’d ever seen.
And for two weeks, almost anytime I went anywhere, the bike appeared. Day or night. Scheduled or not. The helmeted rider was there, and the motorcycle mocked me.
To any normal, sane, single woman, this should have been concerning. But not me.
No, instead, I fantasized as I imagined what the rider looked like. Fantasized about why he was always there. Fantasized about what he wanted to do to me.
I could recognize his frame, but his face had stubbornly and frustratingly remained obscured from my view. I’d had the best time two nights before imagining it with my hand between my thighs, but I yearned to know what he looked like behind the tinted window of his helmet.
Stupid helmet.
I’d never fully seen the driver, and I wasn’t scared, concerned, or ready to phone the police.
I didn’t typically think of myself as foolish, but with this man, I didn’t have the common-sense God gave a goose. No, I was intrigued.
The bike was a thing of beauty, stunning artwork, custom everything, and it screamed total badass. It was sexy as all hell, and my panties got damp, just looking at it.
Biker and bike combined made the total package.
Unconsciously, I nibbled my bottom lip while I considered my options. I felt the bagboys eyes on me and looked up to return his smile as he shoved the trunk lid down. He turned away and pushed the cart back to the store. And I knew, with the slam of my trunk lid, I’d come to a decision.
I was going to move to the other end of the lot and hide. When the biker came out, I’d just have to follow him and see what he was up to. I needed to know more about him. And, much like everything else in my life, I needed it now.
It didn’t take long.
Sitting at the back of the parking lot, wedged between two jacked-up trucks, I was pretty sure that I was hidden from sight. I watched the tall man with a look that screamed, “Trouble!” come out of the store, gripping a big bottle of water.
He had on a tight tee showing off his impressive muscles and a pair of worn dark wash jeans. His motorcycle boots were black and looked heavy. The leather cuff he wore on his left hand did not detract from his appeal and instead complimented the leather vest he wore. And when he twisted off the lid and chugged from the water bottle, his throat worked in a way that fired all of my cylinders.
Then I hit gold.
That.
Face.
It was one of romance novels.
It was the face of fantasies.
I couldn’t see his eyes from the distance between us, but the square jaw, facial hair, and stern look on his face heated my blood. He was perfect. Better than I ever could have imagined, even during my feverish, heated, self-induced, orgasmic solo sessions.
He looked around the parking lot and shook his head when whatever he was looking for wasn’t there. He mouthed the word, “Fuck!” and threw a leg over his bike.
Was it me?
Could it be that my absence had brought about his reaction?
It had to be me.
Right?
I was the one he was following.
I was the one that had moved.
Giddiness washed through me. I could only hope. God knew I was looking for him.
I couldn’t even nail down the exact moment I’d become aware of him, only that I began to recognize the bike and then, after a little watching of my own, the build of the man. He had my full attention, and I was more than intrigued now. I was captivated.
My last love affair had blown up in my face.
He’d said I was too needy.
He’d said I was too affectionate.
He’d said I was too obsessed.
He’d said that I freaked him out.
Whatever.
It’d broken my heart at the time, but I also knew, only a strong man could handle me, and clearly, that hadn’t been my ex. I was finding that I hoped very much that my follower didn’t feel the same way.
I clenched my thighs when the bike roared to life, as enamored by it as I was the powerful man on it. I waited when he pulled out of his parking spot and to the end of the parking lot, where he waited for a clear shot at getting into traffic. He made it as far as the red light by the exit closest to me and stopped.
I swiped my palms along my jeans to dry the sweat from them and took a deep breath. Was I really going to do this? It was extreme, even for me.
Just let him drive away, I thought. That would be the right thing to do.
Even as I thought it, I felt the panic set in and shifted into drive to follow. The city streets made it easy for me to keep sight of him, without, I hoped, exposing myself.
Just another car driving along in the slow as all hell, after work, traffic jam.
My lane moved forward enough that I was only a couple car lengths back, and I flushed at the excitement. Panic coursed through my veins, even as I clenched my thighs at the throbbing in my clit.
That was scary and exhilarating. It was also scarily exhilarating.
What if he saw me? I thought about it for a minute. So, what if he did? He had no way of knowing I was aware of him. We were just two ships passing at sea.
A dark, gripping thrill shot through me. I’d never behaved so brazenly, and potentially stupidly, before. He could be a rapist, or a killer, or any number of very, very bad things.
My lane kept scooting forward until we were neck and neck. No way he didn’t notice me now. No way he didn’t recognize the car he’d been watching for ages.
Acutely aware of him and where he sat, I took in a deep breath through my nose and out my mouth then shifted in my seat, desperately trying to assuage the ever-growing ache between my thighs.
Strong arms reached up to the higher than normal handlebars, and thickly muscled legs held the bike up. He was staring dead at me, black aviators hiding his eyes from my view. I shivered. He could reach out and touch my car, yank open the door and-, well, I wasn’t sure what he could do after that.
My internal alarms sounded, warning me of danger, danger, danger!
Too bad I’d had no desire to listen to them.
Instead, this time, I preferred to toy with danger; to flitter around, daring it to reach out and grab me. Terrified and thrilled. Excited and exhilarated.
I eased forward a teensy bit more and watched as his eyes stayed pinned to my car. I couldn’t help myself. I grinned straight at him. His head jerked in surprise, but he could do nothing as traffic in my lane began to move.
I passed the tow truck that was impeding traffic and then, disappointed that there would be no following him this time, I sped down the road and headed home.
After unloading my groceries and heating up a can of soup, I slipped out of my clothes and into the shower. With the heat adjusted to my favorite temperature, I stepped under the shower-head and reached up to tweak a nipple.
I moaned
at the feeling and closed my eyes so I could imagine it was my mystery man, then I slid two fingers against my clit and brought myself to orgasm.
At least this time, I, mostly, knew what his face looked like.
2
I jerked awake and froze, not even daring to breathe, unsure what had pulled me from my slumber. My lungs burned to release the pent-up breath, and my heart raced to escape my chest, but there wasn’t another sound to be heard.
I jerked the covers to the side and stood, not bothering with the light and started to the bathroom. I could find my way in the dark with no problems.
At least, usually.
This time, however, I was forced to stop with a yelp when I slammed my upper arm against the dresser drawer that I had no memory of leaving open.
I groaned and stomped my foot twice, trying to offset the pain radiating down my arm. When that did absolutely nothing to help, I slammed the drawer shut in anger. Then, I felt around blindly, but carefully, for the wall and the door to the bathroom.
Pushing into the room, I flicked on the light, lifted my arm and groaned when I saw that I was definitely going to have an ugly bruise the next day.
After taking care of business and washing my hands, I flipped the light switch and stomped back to the bed.
I laid on my back but couldn’t get comfortable, so I flopped over to my belly with a frustrated sigh.
My brain just wouldn’t stop.
I couldn’t believe that I’d lost him. I should’ve waited a little longer before I’d pulled out to follow him, but I’d hurried, worried that I would lose my chance.
Punching the pillow, I sighed.
I was an idiot. A crazy idiot.
He didn’t know me from Eve, and it was a distinct possibility that I’d imagined the whole thing, or worse, I’d blown my shot because I couldn’t be patient.
I’d been this way my whole life, see it, want it, obsess over it and, maybe, hopefully, when I played my cards right, get it.
At least, the majority of the time.
But it had to be said that I’d never been this way about a man I didn’t know. That didn’t seem to make a difference this time, though.
It hit me then that I should’ve gotten his license plate. I could’ve found him. I opened my eyes just so I could roll them at myself. Yeah. Like it was that easy. I didn’t even know anyone who could run the number. I was a world-class moron.
My thoughts raced while I kicked myself mentally for letting him slip through my fingers.
Eventually, sleep took over, and I zonked out.
I was on hyper-alert for two days watching for him. I barely ate or slept, and the only time my thoughts weren’t consumed by him was when I was forced to focus on my work, but as soon as the workday was over, my thoughts centered on my mystery man.
At 5:02 pm, I started my car and turned down the volume on Breaking Benjamin singing about The Diary of Jane. I was way sadder than I had any right to be considering I’d never even spoken to him. And I was beginning to wonder if I really was crazy and I’d made the whole thing up.
As had become habit when I heard a motorcycle, I jerked to attention and immediately started scanning the parking lot.
And there he was.
I couldn’t stop the smile that curved my lips.
My heart rate spiked up, and my palms tingled.
He was mine now.
I watched through my rearview mirror as he sat straddling the bike in the back corner of the parking lot, staring dead at me. My everything tingled when I stared back at him.
If I weren’t hyper-aware of all things motorcycle, I’d have never even known he was there. I could feel his eyes burning into me. Still, I didn’t want it to be obvious that I was watching him, so I flipped down the visor and flipped up the flap that covered the mirror there so I could reapply my screaming red lipstick and check my teeth.
Another quick glance showed he was still sitting there, so I pulled the tie out of my ponytail and shook my hair out. I fluffed my hair twice and heard the engine rev. Waiting, I held my breath as he rolled past me, and that was when I slammed the mirror shut, flipped up the visor, and put my car into drive, easing forward.
I was patting myself on the back for my prowess at following him unnoticed for almost twenty minutes when it really hit me that I’d followed a man I’d never met into the woods. A man whose intentions I did not know.
This was when most women would panic. This was when a sane woman would panic. This was the point I should panic. But I didn’t. I smiled, and I knew it was a smug one.
I rolled down the windows and turned the radio up a little bit louder.
My tires squealed a little when I took the curve, but I didn’t have a care in the world. I sang louder and then screamed while slamming on the brakes.
His bike was stopped blocking the one-lane country road. He sat sideways, leaning into the seat lightly, with his arms and ankles crossed as I held tight to the wheel, and the car jerked to a stop.
My back hit the seat, hard, and I whooshed out a breath and inhaled the scent of burnt rubber.
We sat staring at each other as I gulped in lungfuls of air. I couldn’t see his eyes behind the aviators, and I couldn’t string a thought together. I just sat there, heaving breath into and out of my lungs, frozen with my foot on the pedal.
My cockiness was gone. It’d flittered away as I careened toward a madman with an apparent death wish.
Angrily, he stood upright and started to stalk my way.
For the first time, I felt a frisson of fear.
It was all fun and games until his bulky, powerful body stormed my way. It didn’t lessen the excitement I was feeling, but I was definitely feeling a little scared.
He walked up and leaned down to look in my open window, an arm to the top of the car door, and a scowl on his face. I thought I was prepared, but when he roared at me, I started to shake. “What the actual fuck did you think you were doing?”
I flinched and gripped the steering wheel tighter. Common sense was finally starting to prevail, finally, after weeks of it being nowhere to be found, and I was second-guessing my following him.
I was also, strangely, very turned on.
I didn’t speak, I just stayed where I was, taking in his admirable jaw-line. I shifted in my seat and looked into his glasses, unsure and waiting.
For what, I had no idea.
He took in my face, and blew out a breath, shaking his head and pushing off the door frame. He stood for a moment, staring at me and then said in a softer, almost gentle voice, “Follow me, yeah? And this time, try and keep up a little better. I had to stop twice to let you catch up.”
My lips tugged up into a huge smile, and his face softened as he watched. The fear left my body, and I relaxed.
Right back into crazy-town.
Finally, he reached over and tapped a fist to the top of the car twice, grinning and nodded.
It was the weirdest non-conversation I’d ever had in my life.
The bike roared to life, and I eased my foot off the brake and onto the gas pedal, slowly speeding up as he pulled off. I was happy, but it had to be said.
My vagina led to me the most ridiculous situations.
3
I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I followed him down the long winding road, turned onto a dirt road, and drove up to a house.
When he stopped and kicked down the stand on his bike, I put my car into park and sighed. I heard the danger bells distantly clanging in my head again, but I disregarded them.
I was right where I wanted to be.
I climbed out of the car and slammed the door shut, turning to him and pausing. Those glasses turned my way, and he gestured with his head toward the massive log cabin. “You good? Because we gotta talk.”
I bit my bottom lip but nodded and moved in his direction. When we were side to side, he put a guiding hand to the small of my back and led me to the front door.
He stepped around me and unlock
ed the door before gesturing for me to pass him. When I stepped through the door, the strong, steady hand moved back down to my back, and it burned.
I shivered and heard his answering soft chuckle. I stood up a little straighter and focused on not stumbling as he led the way to a sunken living room. I sat on the love seat where he gestured, realizing that I hadn’t even spoken yet.
“Uh,” I started, unsure of what to say.
“Wait.” He demanded, holding up a hand and stopping me from saying anything further. Then, he moved to sit across the coffee table from me. Dropping onto the edge, he tossed his sunglasses to the side, and I met his blue eyes straight on.
My throat closed. He was absolutely insanely beautiful.
He locked his eyes on mine and swallowed hard, “This is fuckin’ weird. I know it’s weird, and I don’t know why I can’t seem to stop. It’s been his way since the first time I laid eyes on you.”
I nodded. Oh, how I knew that feeling.
I started to open my mouth and tell him that, but he started again. “I’ve been following you for weeks. You bumped into me, I caught the scent of your perfume, and I clocked you. When you went to your car, I followed you. I’ve been in your house, been to your job, followed you to the store. Tagged your car with a tracker. It’s an obsession.”
I stiffened.
He’d been in my house.
He’d been in my space.
He was tracking my every move.
I really, really liked that, and my body warmed with the knowledge, even though it was supposed to be disturbing.
He read my face and jerked to his full height, “See?” he gestured at me, “That’s not a normal reaction. You should be freaked. You should call the cops. It’s fuckin’ twisted. I just can’t seem to stay away from you.”