by S. E. Dosher
Niko pulls back from Blondie’s embrace and gestures for her to stand, initiating the same demanding routine he has with every other woman he brings home. First, he’ll make her strip. Then she’ll follow every action he commands, or she’ll find herself thrown out the back door without her clothes. I’ve only seen that happen once; I don’t imagine he’s told no very often about anything. I sometimes wonder if I’d follow his commands, or if I would tell him to go fuck himself – I don’t suppose I’ll ever have cause to find out.
She starts to hurriedly unzip her dress, but he slows her pace; his eyes are glued to her back as more flesh gently peeks from behind the satin material. He rises from his spot on the couch and walks toward her, halting her movements completely. He loops one finger in the sleeve of her dress, deliberately pushing it down her right arm then trails lightly across her chest to the other shoulder releasing it from its coverings as well. Blondie’s not wearing a bra, which I find predictable, and she stands tall and proud, with nothing but her lacy thong covering her. He steps back and takes her in, smiling to indicate his pleasure in her bare form. A smile stretches across my face in response; which should worry me, but I push the thought out of my mind too quickly for it to sprout wings.
He removes his suit jacket then directs her hands on the top button of his dress shirt. With perfect precision, she unfastens each one, revealing his hard chiseled chest and abs. I make sure to get a clean, crisp photo of him just before Blondie ruins it by running her hands along his muscles. She leans forward covering one of his nipples with her mouth then moves to the next. Her hands run along his back for a few seconds before he finally wraps his hands around her wrists and positions them behind her back, one swift jerk to emphasize their required placement. Over touching is a big no-no for Niko. He wants to be in charge of every ounce of pleasure given, as well as received.
Blondie’s back is toward me, and I see her lace her hands together as a reminder not to move them – she’s a good girl. I can see why he brought her home. Niko’s mouth is moving and she nods her head in response. Of all the times I’ve unabashedly watched the act play out, I’ve never been able to guess what he says to them. Is he commanding, domineering? Or does he have an explanation for his desires? My eyes flutter closed as I imagine the tone of his voice – hard, yet tender. I’ve heard him speak a million times, but his words have never been directed at me.
I don’t have to guess what’s coming next. He will reach for the black sash tying back the large window coverings to take away her sight. The moment she can no longer see his face, it will darken, and his entire body will take on a somber, steadfast facade. For some reason, once their sight is gone he’s no longer concerned with smiles and gestures, and merely focuses on the act of his indulgence. I don’t particularly like seeing this side of Niko; it scares me and intrigues me all the same. He never speaks after covering their eyes. Even if the woman speaks, he does not answer.
He stands back and watches her; there is no movement beyond the steady pace of their chests rising and falling. Niko turns his back to her and takes two steps to the window. I trigger the shutter on my camera and capture him seamlessly illuminated by the light falling behind him and bouncing off the curves of his perfectly shaped muscles. His eyes flick in my direction, squarely aimed at me. I know he can’t see me, but that doesn’t stop the rapid increase of my heart and breath. His eyes are sharp and focused – almost knowing.
My attention is pulled from him to the sound of a car door slamming nearby. It’s late; far too late for anyone to be coming and going – besides someone like me. I scan the street through my camera lens and see someone walking toward Niko’s house. It’s too dark for me to see any identifying details, just a swiftly moving figure. I watch until the figure reaches the driveway, pausing momentarily at Niko’s car to stare through the windshield before moving to the back door. My vision quickly returns to the inside of the house, but Niko and Blondie are gone. They shouldn’t be gone; they were just beginning. He never takes them beyond the living room.
I lower the camera from my face and search for lights inside his house. I finally see a faint light from where I think the kitchen is, but I’ve never been able to see inside enough to confirm. The shadowed figure has disappeared inside, leaving the back door open. Thoughts race through my head. Is this planned? Did Niko arrange it? Maybe Blondie did.
I tuck my camera inside the bag and scale down the tree, creeping through the grass and rocks toward Niko’s house. The night breeze dances across my bare arms sending a chill up my spine. I’ve never been this close to his house before, and my brain is screaming for me to leave. Even without the blaring thoughts of running far away, something doesn’t feel right. I’ve been watching him for so long that I know what thoughts will go through his head before he does. I know every action he will take, and how every night will end. Everything feels off tonight. From the moment his eyes peeked through the club’s curtains and tried to find mine in the darkness, his movements have felt half-hearted, stifled. Or maybe I just want them to be; I want him to have registered me, for once, and felt my presence on some cosmic level.
I reach the wide-open back door and an eerie silence hangs in the air, suffocating everything around. I pull a black stocking cap from my camera bag and pull it down low covering as much of my forehead as possible, making sure to tuck my hair inside. Then cross the bag over my body and push it to my back. The last thing I want to be seen doing is sneaking into Niko’s house holding a long-range zoom camera. My steps fall silent as I peek around the corner, looking left and right, expecting someone to jump out and grab me at any second. The only break in the heavy silence is the tick-tock of two oversized grandfather clocks flanking the entrance.
I ease one foot inside, onto the bright white marble floor then pause. I don’t belong in his house, and my whole body feels it. My eyes may find their way around his house from a distance, but every fiber of my being knows entering his house is wrong – no matter the reason.
My foot lifts off the polished floor, momentarily refusing to enter farther, when a blood-curdling scream rips through the silence, igniting my fight-or-flight response. It’s high pitched, obviously belonging to a woman, not Niko, but I don’t hesitate. My legs send me flying in the direction of the scream. The path I take is a blur of bright white and contrasting black, but I end up exactly where I figured I would - the kitchen.
Black cabinets and white granite countertops with bright silver accents shine under the twinkling lights – I don’t know why I notice the details when a fight is obviously taking place right in front of me. Screams and growls emanate from a tangled web of arms and legs. I can’t make out anyone in the mess of punching and kicking. Something flies in front of my face and halts with a loud thunk on the cabinet door to my left. I turn to see a large knife barely stuck in the wood, the heavy handle swinging back and forth until it finally falls to the floor beside me.
Time slows as I see movement coming toward me. I look up, my eyes locking on a pair of wild eyes - Suzy’s eyes. Her arm stretches out, reaching for the knife. I reflexively lean forward and swoop it up, the gleaming blade angled toward her, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Niko rushes toward us from my right, and Blondie is running for the side door of the kitchen, escaping the danger. Suzy looks from me to Niko then back to me.
“You!” she growls, lunging toward me and grabbing for the knife just as Niko reaches us and we all three collide.
Her momentum sends us falling to the hard floor, and my shoulder breaks my fall, the impact reverberating through my body. The knife is still in my hand, and I jerk it up, hoping not to connect with anything, but I hear Niko howl just as I feel the tip of the knife meets resistance.
All three of us jump to our feet - a misshapen circle of oddities staring at one another. Three sets of eyes drift from one, to the next and back, but finally mine land on Suzy, as do Niko’s. We both perceive her as the threat, even though I’m still holding the knife. She is a
known evil; I am not.
Police sirens break the silence. Suzy’s eyes narrow on Niko, then she rushes past me, knocking me to the floor once again. I release my grip on the knife and try to break my fall, but land awkwardly on my hand, causing my wrist to bend painfully. I grimace and clutch my arm to my chest.
“Are you okay?” I hear Niko’s voice caress my ears, and look up to see his eyes filled with so much concern that my heart soars. Blood trickles down his cheek from a cut under his eye – a cut I caused.
Stunned, I don’t speak. I duck my head, trying to shield my face from his vision.
“Let me see. Are you hurt?” he asks again, reaching for my arm, but I skitter backwards out of reach.
“Police!” several voices yell as armed men storm the room, their weapons waving frantically around.
“She just left through the back!” Niko shouts and points in the direction of the back door.
Chapter 3
Light streaming through the sheer curtains blinds my sleep filled eyes. I groan and roll over, covering my face with my arm. Pain shoots up past my elbow and through my shoulder, immediately reminding me of last night. I still don’t know what I was thinking. Why did I go in there? He saw me, and now he knows my face. That ruins everything. My anonymity was one of the only reasons I could sneak around without registering on his stalk-o-meter.
His concern over my injury flashes through my mind and puts a small smile on my face. I can find comfort in it now, but last night it didn’t feel right. He made the paramedic look at my wrist, which is merely sprained and perfectly fine now. The paramedic said I needed to wrap it, but when he turned to get a bandage from the ambulance, I ran. I watched from a safe distance as Niko looked for me, wandering around from person to person in search of…me.
He asked everyone, and yelled at the paramedic for letting me leave. He even yelled at poor Blondie, who was shivering in nothing but her thong before a policeman was nice enough to wrap her in one of those puke green, itchier-than-poison-ivy wool blankets. But it wasn’t anyone else’s fault, I caused this. The whole thing is my fault. Niko could have handled Suzy just fine without my interference. And then Niko wouldn’t have a cut marring his beautiful face that was caused by my own hands.
Dread spreads from the pit of my stomach. I can’t let him see me ever again. Even though my head was covered, he still saw my face; I can’t risk that again.
I jump as a loud knock interrupts my silent cocoon. Peeking through the curtain, I see Paul holding two cups of my favorite iced coffee from a tiny bakery I’ve been going to since I was a kid. I open the door to Paul’s relieved sigh.
“Why aren’t you answering your phone? I thought you were on the run…or arrested. I didn’t know what to think.” His hands wave frantically around, emphasizing his exasperation with me, and I quickly rescue my coffee before he spills every last drop.
“Calm down, I never even heard it ring. I’m fine, I’ve been asleep.” I let out a huff of pent up frustration aimed more at myself, “It was a late night.”
He grins. “I heard.” Holding up his phone, he touches the screen and a video plays.
“Late breaking news,” says the host of a well-known celebrity gossip show, whose name is never important enough for me to remember. “Actor Nikolas Gallo evaded yet another run-in with his elusive stalker late last night at his Los Angeles home.”
My mouth falls open.
“Just wait,” Paul taunts in a singsong voice.
The video switches to nighttime aerial footage of Niko’s house. Police and ambulance lights flash while officers canvas the area around his house, the beams of their flashlights bouncing in the darkness. They look like little ants frantically searching for crumbs.
The host continues, “A prowler broke into the home and armed herself with a knife from Gallo’s kitchen before being run off by an unknown Good Samaritan. Gallo released a statement asking for information about the identity of his rescuer, who is said to have sustained an injury during an altercation with the assailant. ‘I would like to give proper thanks and also ensure they are well,’ Gallo was quoted as saying in the statement. We have also heard reports that Gallo sustained an injury to his face during the ordeal but no word yet…”
“Okay, that’s enough,” I say and push his phone away while he laughs.
“So I’m guessing you don’t know anything about this, right?” he asks with a grin so mischievous I want to slap right off his face.
“Oh, just shut up,” I grumble while I feign anger with him when I’m actually mad at myself. “You wouldn’t be here if you really thought that.”
“For starters, are you really hurt?” he asks with true concern.
“No, I’m fine; really, I am. And that’s all you need to know; there’s nothing else to say.”
“Um-hmm. C’mon, don’t leave me hanging.” He gestures with his hands for me to give him the scoop.
“Stop it,” I slap his hands down. “There’s nothing to tell. Someone broke in, and for some crazy-ass reason I felt the need to help. Like I could actually be some sort of ‘Nikolas Gallo savior.’ It’s all quite ridiculous really.”
“Oh, stop. It sounds like you did help save him. Who was it?” he asks, his eyes penetrating my defenses.
“Who do you think?” I huff out and fall back onto my bed. “Crazy-ass Suzy. I guess she didn’t like being tossed away like common trash at Blasé last night.”
“She actually cut his face? I knew she was crazy, but I didn’t think she’d actually hurt his most prized possession!” Paul shrieks and then covers his mouth in shock.
“Umm…no, actually, that was me. Well, it was Suzy’s fault, but I was the one actually holding the knife when he got cut.” I let my head fall into my hands and groan.
“Brook?” I hear a muffled shout come from the other side of my door.
“What the fuck? Why is it Grand Central Station around here today! No one bothers to come see me in weeks, and now I’ve got two in one day,” I rant while making my way to the door.
“Brook!” comes through the door again before I get to it, and I immediately recognize my brother Brock.
Brock is my twin brother, and we look as identical as humanly possible considering I lack his male appendage. Dark hair, bright green eyes rimmed with gold, the same small nose and full lips, and we’re even the same height at a whopping 5’10”. But our similarities end at the physical characteristics. I tried to be more like him, I really did, but I didn’t quite accomplish sainthood before I threw it all away to be normal.
Brock is fantastically brilliant at everything he does. His head is screwed on right, while mine is a permanent fixture in the clouds – or at least that’s how those that know us best have always described us. So it should be no surprise he’s a filthy rich Hollywood producer and I live in his small studio guest house.
I open the door without bothering to peek out, and standing there, in all his glory, is Niko, shoulder to shoulder with a smiling Brock. The blood swiftly rushing through my head blocks all sound and reason. Niko’s right cheek is covered with a large, white bandage and I cringe inside at the sight of it. Brock’s lips are moving, but I can’t hear anything over the roaring in my ears. I slam the door and stumble back until my legs hit the bed.
Paul’s laughing faintly registers as I close my eyes and slowly open them again, hoping this is all a dream and I’m actually snuggled tight under my covers. No such luck.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” I whisper-shout to Paul.
“I have no idea, and you won’t find out if you keep slamming the door in his face.”
A second knock sounds. “Brook, open the door,” Brock warns sternly, but with a touch of humor.
“Umm, just a minute!” I yell, but don’t move an inch.
“Open the door, or I will,” Paul whispers and raises his eyebrows at me.
“No!” I whisper sternly and point my finger at him like a mother scolding her toddler.
“Broo
k, open the door, or so help me...” he says in return, not at all threatened by my finger.
“Be my guest,” I counter, gesturing to the door.
He shakes his head but walks to the door, slowly opening it. I feel a rush of heat as Niko takes one, two steps into my personal space. The air feels thick and muggy as the room shrinks to hold his presence.
His height and broad shoulders have him looming over the entire room. It’s fucking sexy as hell with a touch of danger…that, of course, I love.
His short dark hair is unruly and spiky; it calls out, longing to be caressed by my fingers. He’s wearing faded jeans, a nondescript white t-shirt, and thongs. Even his toes are sexy. I have a thong up my ass, and he has them running between his toes – we have so much in common. I giggle then slap my hand over my mouth. Get it together Brook!
“You’ll have to excuse her, she just woke up,” Paul says, effectively reminding me I probably look horrifically scary – this is not my day.
I quickly brush my hands over my hair, trying to tame the bird’s nest I’m sure I created in my sleep. I look down and see I’m wearing a white cami with black shorty-shorts, which is my regular sleepwear. The cami is riding up and showing my stomach, which is flat for the most part, but I’m definitely no longer in model condition. I quickly jerk down on the hem and my embarrassingly underwhelming breasts almost pop out the top. Fuck! I, not so discreetly, readjust the top making sure that both of my ladies are securely covered.
I look up and there are three sets of confused male eyes glued to me. Two are silently laughing and the third could possibly be undressing me. Niko’s gaze moves from my chest, over my stomach, and down to my long legs. The look in his eyes seems to applaud his approval.
No one speaks. We all stand in a stuffy stillness, staring at each other. Niko’s eyes fall back to my face, but still I can feel him devouring me. A pliable feeling rushes over my body and my legs waver in their support. The edge of his mouth turns up and the corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement.