by Jeny Stone
POSSESSED BY A STRANGER
BY
JENY STONE
SMASHWORDS EDITION
Copyright @ 2013 by Jeny Stone
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author. We would love to hear from you.
his is a work of fiction, names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
DEDICATION: To Timmy and David.
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CHAPTER ONE
Rigid with anticipation, Hannah’s right arm tensed and released in unison with each second that ticked away on the countdown clock. Her index finger hovered over the enter key with her eyes glued to the seventeen inch computer screen. She was prepared to push enter on the four second mark. Her timing had proven to be precise, practiced, and profitable on more than one occasion. Her final bid of four thousand and one dollars, one dollar over the last bid, waited to zip through the internet to zap the pending bid one millisecond before the bidding ended.
Six, five, press…she inhaled as the fate of her bid rested in the tip of her finger. Frozen in that exact moment, Hannah waited for the flashing results of either ‘Congratulations you won the bid’ or ‘sorry’ to scroll across the screen.
She exhaled “YES”, long and loud as ‘Congratulations you won the bid’ skipped across the screen from the right side, disappearing letter by letter on the left. An adrenalin rush exploded inside her, seeping out of every pore. With a swift push of her foot on her hardwood floor, her arms victoriously reaching for the ceiling, she spun around several times in her chair. Jumping from the chair, she performed her twist and twirl victory dance as the cheap vinyl computer chair crashed into an eighteenth century upholstered wing chair. With her cheeks moist from the overflow of tears trying to revive her LCD strained eyes, Hannah danced around her living room before she collapsed on her couch.
Alone in her apartment, with no one to share the excitement of the acquisition of a lifetime, she kicked her feet in the air, screaming for the pure joy of the moment. Rapid pounding on the wall connected with the adjoining apartment, shut her up.
“Sorry. I’m fine.” She yelled through the paper-thin walls, to her nosy neighbor before the wobbling pictures on the wall crashed to the floor. The elderly woman next door sat on her couch against that wall. She pounded over the slightest sound. The next person that moved into this apartment was in for a real treat with Sadie, the self-appointed apartment monitor. Hannah’s neighbor was bored out of her mind with nothing to do but spy on the neighbor’s, pounding on the walls and ceilings, demanding total silence.
Too bad, so sad, Hannah thought, since soon, it wouldn’t be her under Sadie’s microscope. In two short months, she would move into an apartment with her new husband. Only the thought of her impending nuptials could douse her high spirits, and it did, in a flash flood of trepidation. The closer the date loomed in her future the higher the foreboding grew. Her spineless body ruined any chance of wild passionate love by giving her a soft bleeding heart. She couldn’t disappoint their friends and families who anxiously anticipated the upcoming union.
A decision must be made, but for now, like always, she postponed anything confrontational. Instead, she decided to share her joy with Jay, which seemed a bit irrational, even to her. Her fiancé was her best friend, just not the object of her desires. She loved him, but wasn’t in love with him, which clouded her decision-making. Her passive nature opted for comfortable, dull and fulfilling others expectations. It eliminated hurting anyone, except in this case, herself.
Oh well, so be it, she thought as she showered and dressed to spring a surprise visit on the man she would spend the rest of her life trying to fall in love with. Supposedly, all the best marriages started out as friends first, lovers second. She would soon put that theory to a test, or not.
It was hotter than hell outside of her air-conditioned apartment so she decided on a cotton, blue flowered dress with a fitted bodice that buttoned in the front. She only fastened the buttons necessary for modesty, along her torso. The buttons below her upper thighs were useless as far as she was concerned. At five foot four, she adopted long strides, to keep up with longer legged people. Her strides would pop the buttons loose, or off, if she did button them.
Hannah viewed herself in the antique mirror on her dresser. Except for her couch, computer and computer chair, all her furnishings were aged, built during a time when things were crafted to last. She treasured her furniture, each piece filled with history, and hated that it would all have to be stored in some crappy metal building until she could convince Jay that, in furniture, older was better. Storing her antiques was just one more concession that she was being forced to make on this path to marital bliss. Or marital hell. The jury was still out on that one.
After she gathered her unruly curls into a ponytail, she grabbed her wallet purse and threw the strap over her head. She left her apartment to walk through the congested city sidewalks. Perspiration glistened on her porcelain skin as soon as she stepped into the sun-heated air, dripping with humidity. She stopped at the nearest convenience store to pick up something to drink. Jay only bought food or drinks according to what he planned to consume in the next few hours.
She strolled along with the flow of pedestrians the three blocks to Jay’s apartment. The hustle and bustle of the four-block radius of Old Town was the reason she remained in the nineteen twenties apartment complex. Originally home to offices, the building had been converted after The Depression. Even with the inconvenience of parking spaces being as rare as the Hope Diamond, Old Town had a character all its own that embraced her heart, touched her soul.
Through the front doors of the newer apartment complex on the outskirts of the historical district, then up two floors on the elevator, she stood in front of Jay’s apartment. She almost hoped he was busy or locked up in some televised sports event. Once he started watching men with any kind of ball, a locomotive chugging through the living room wouldn’t budge him. If so, her obligation to place him on a pedestal above the rest of her friends, as he so frequently reminded her, would be fulfilled. Then she could celebrate with her girlfriends. At least, they pretended to listen to her dreams.
Armed with celebratory sparkling water, she unlocked Jay’s front door. The stereo’s low boom, boom beat of the bass was the telltale sign he was home. She pushed open his door as she removed her keys from the lock. She stood in the doorway putting her keys back in her purse. The light from the hallway illuminated the mind shocking sight. Her fiancé, the man she was supposed to marry in two months, after a year and a half engagement, had his dick stuck in his secretary. Jay groaned as he humped away, oblivious to her presence.
This was it. The eye opening moment of truth where raw emotions break through the preconceived notions you’ve imagined your life to be. This was the sign she needed to make a difficult decision easy. A fucking, flashing, naked sign she couldn’t possibly misconstrue.
Her muscle twitching shock, announced by the breaking of glass from the sparkling water dropping out of her hand, subsided quickly. The vision piercing her eyes sparked the inferior temporal area of her brain, which farted in relief. The anger, devastation and betrayal, which she assumed was normal in this type of bizarre circumstances, refused to raise their ugly heads. Instead,
the unidentified and previously ignored weight from her shoulders lifted upwards, floating away on a cloud of joy. She felt gloriously free and light as a feather.
“Oh God! Hannah wait, wait…” Jay huffed, breathing hard and fast.
He wanted her to wait, but for what, him to finish, because that was exactly what was happening. She almost wasted her life on that dumb ass. The comedy of the situation wasn’t lost on Hannah, who was now relieved beyond belief. The decision she refused to make, stared her in the face. Jay had made it for her. Hannah withheld the urge to scream “thank you” at the top of her lungs.
The bubble of laughter twitched in her stomach as she tugged at the gaudy engagement ring on her finger. He bought the big-ass-ring to impress his friends without any regard to her simple taste in jewelry. She reared her arm behind her head, pitching the ring across the room, hoping to hit him between the eyes. Hannah slammed the door, as she walked away from the, oh so close, biggest mistake of her life.
As she skipped down the stairs, not taking the time to wait on the elevator, she tried to comprehend the humongous change that just occurred in her life. She had been a ‘we’ for over three years but now she was a ‘she’, ‘me’ or ‘I’ and God, it felt great. Hello Hannah Greer, so nice to meet you, where the heck have you been? She stopped at the bottom of the stairs to dance her victory dance with more emotion than she had felt in years. In a symbolic gesture, she pulled the ribbon from her hair, setting free her ringlets of curls.
With a melody of celebratory songs singing in her head, she walked the two blocks to the favorite watering hole of all her friends. If ever there was anything that called for a drink, this day was that thing. On her way, she greeted strangers as if they were her closest friends and received odd, crazy-lady-on-the-loose, looks in return. She wanted to sprinkle her joyful mood over the city like a fresh blanket of snow. She pirouetted several yards then continued on her walk as if nothing just happened. Maybe she was as crazy as the people who now gave her a wide path thought. She didn’t care because if this was crazy, she was certifiable and she loved it.
She danced, waltzed and pranced into the Irish styled bar on feet that felt as if they floated above the wooden floor. She caressed the bar stool, at the end of the bar, with her hips as she claimed the secluded seat. With her shoulders replicating the beat of the music and a smile that just wouldn’t quit, she waved at Larry, the bartender and longtime friend.
He hurried over, the way he always did, to lean across the bar to face her. She always suspected he wanted more than a friendship to happen between them. Jay was his best bud so Larry had conceded to the first come rule. She and Larry together would have been the same play with a different actor as the leading man, because he just didn't do it for her either. Not planning to make the same mistake twice, Hannah knew, even with Larry patiently waiting in the wings, there would never be an opening début of that particular play. “Hello gorgeous, you look happier than I’ve seen you in quite some time.”
“I feel better than I have in quite some time. As a matter of fact, I feel fan-frigging-tastic. I want a big girl drink. Nothing you can smell…maybe something fruity or sweet…and really strong.” The request sounded musical, even to her ears. Frankly, it surprised Larry from his wide-eyed slapped-in-the-face look
Larry stiffened, and then stood straight up. “Very funny, you don’t drink. Do you want your usual?” He laughed nervously.
The rules of distinction and loyalties between a splitting-up couple shouldn’t be an issue at this point, since she was a customer. Foremost, he had a job to do. There was no possible way he could know what just transpired. Nothing could spoil her euphoric high so she teased him into submission. “If I had wanted my usual I would have asked for it. I’m of age and not intoxicated by anything but a smile so you’re required to serve me whatever my little heart desires. Are you going to serve me or do I need to find a different bar with a cooperative bartender? A bar where I’ll be all alone, with no one to look after me if I get shit-faced.” With her elbows on the bar, she rested her chin on her folded hands. She stared into Larry’s confused face. Her mouth muscles started to ache from the smile still plastered on her lips.
“Does Jay know you’re here?”
“Don’t know and don’t care. He’s deep into something. You know how he gets with his tunnel vision. . . probably better than me.” She pointed to her index finger, from under her chin, toward Larry, which seemed to confuse him even more. Larry and Jay were thick as thieves so she knew Larry knew where Jay was and what Jay was doing. What Larry wasn’t sure of was if she knew. But that was probably due to her reaction. Still under the influence of ‘seeing was believing and believing will set you free’, her euphoric state of mind had surrounded her in a cocoon of unbelievable joy. Larry’s eyes remained on her face. He stood stiff as a board in front of her.
“Give the lady a frozen margarita. Make it gold and a double.” A deep masculine voice commanded the drink order. A man slid onto the stool beside her. He pushed a twenty-dollar bill toward Larry. He sat his drink down on the bar, scotch, she guessed from the smell.
She folded her arms on the bar, turning her head to look at the mystery man. His right hand rested on the bar within a finger’s touch of his glass. His left elbow extended off the back of the stool. He had built a blockade with his stance, caging her in. The definition of his bulging chest muscles was exposed to her view through his tight shirt. The shirt collar gapped open with several buttons casually left undone. Even in the relaxed position, he sat tall on the stool with his head held high. It looked as if his bronzed flesh came from outside activities, not from wasting time in an artificial sun. The distinct features of his face complimented each other. Tall, dark and very handsome stimulated her interest, pleasing her vision. Her previously subdued sexuality rose inside her, freely coming to life with her first glimpse of him. Whether caused by hormones, pheromones, or the circumstances of the day, that gorgeous hunk of a man sent a fiery heat searing through her body. With her back arched, she twisted the stool from side to side. Hannah watched him, as he watched every move Larry made as he mixed her drink.
The expensive designer suit, the Rolex on his wrist, screamed he was corporate something or other and money was his mistress or maybe, his bitch. The way he demanded the drink order and the fact he insured it was what he ordered by his constant glare made her opt for bitch.
Larry returned with the drink, placing it in front of the man. She assumed to eliminate his culpability when he recounted the incident to Jay. Boy, she would love to be a fly on the wall when that happened.
The man picked up the glass with the napkin, placing it in front of her. That's when he looked into her eyes, his own grayish blue’s devouring her, and she was drawn into his web. His silence surrounded her, drowning out the music and the buzz of voices in the bar. They sat alone, protected from the rest of the world, inside the mesmerizing haze of his presence. His musk of virility filled her nostrils with every breath she fought to inhale.
She lifted the glass to sip from the straw, not wanting to break his connecting, electrifying gaze. Her taste buds sharply sparked in response to the sour shock. With the straw still held between her lips, the frozen gulp came precariously close to freezing any brain cells she had left. “Thank you, kind sir; I thought I was going to have to celebrate somewhere else.”
“It seems I walked in at just the right time to rescue a damsel in distress. Well, I’m hoping this is a rescue and the bartender’s reluctance to serve you isn’t from past wild crazy drunken episodes. What are you celebrating that would make you want a drink stronger than your usual?” The sensual tilt of his lips and the hint of a tease in his voice enticed her farther into his seduction. Hannah went willingly. His voice lulled her into believing she still had a choice.
“You can relax, I don‘t get drunk and rip off my clothes and dance on the bar. I just don’t normally drink anything stronger than a diet soda. I’m celebrating being unengaged.” Sh
e waved the fingers on her left hand with her ring finger free from the burden of that God-awful ring.
He chuckled, low in his throat, as he twisted the stool to turn her way. “If you don’t normally drink than there’s a slight chance I might get to see the free show. I might want to stick around for that. But until then, you can entertain me with why your celebrating being unengaged. Where are the tears and sobs of losing your one true love?”
His expensive cologne was manly and sensual. She almost leaned closer just to sniff his neck. “It’s surprisingly non-existent, which should explain the celebration.” Her gaze alternated from the movement of his lips when he spoke, back to his persuasive eyes. Lowering her shoulders and stretching her neck she imagined how soft, yet commanding, his lips would feel gliding down her neck.
“I can’t imagine any man would give you up without a fight. So, is your ex going to come bursting in the door to kick my ass?” She knew from his firm grin, the body of a weight lifter, and fearless air, he didn’t consider his ass being kicked by anyone a probability and neither did she.
She flirtingly touched his upper arm, testing his muscles with a squeeze. Actually, she just wanted to touch him, to see if he was real. If this was a dream, she prayed she would sleep forever. “I don’t think so. The last time I saw him, his dick was stuck in his secretary.” She sipped slowly on the straw to avoid a brain freeze… Lesson learned. The tangy drink spread warmth through her body even though it was ice cold. . . or the warmth might be from the mysterious stranger.
Her frank response received an amused nod of his head. “I can see where that would be a deal breaker. That brings up another question. Why would you be engaged to someone you seem so happy to get rid of?”