Seconds ticked by, one by one, followed by minutes. It was a long time before the small orgasms, the spasms and the tsunami had faded. Even as I lifted myself from him, my body twitched and grabbed his member so hard that shock-waves of pleasure almost made me drop down again. But I persevered. My body felt almost painfully empty when the head finally popped out, leaving me with quivering legs, almost giving out, as I rose.
I had squirted a lot.
His stomach, hips and legs were mostly covered by my fluid, as were my own legs and stomach when I'd collapsed on top of him. The whole room smelled of me. The red blood, oozing out slowly along the knife, was nothing but a subtle metallic hint, mixing with the rest.
Cleaning up after myself.
Still not too stable on my feet, wobbling a bit but getting better, I opened my bag and took out the bleach-water. It wasn't that difficult, he was spread-eagle on the bed and all the stuff was on the front anyway. My hands surged with sensitivity as I felt his skin even through the cloth of a towel. All of this had come to an extraordinary end, making me wonder if I should let a man rape me before I gave him that moment. Would it make a difference, would it make my revenge fuel the sex again like it did now?
All clean. All dressed.
The possible implications of tonight still floated through my head when I exited the bedroom, the apartment, the building (stopping only to clean the door-bell and handle for a moment) until finally the street. Like usual, barely anyone was awake at this hour. No lights on, no people on the street. There was a spring in my step the whole way. Glad for having fulfilled my purpose, reveled in retribution and, best of all, unsurpassed sexual satisfaction. The evening was perfect.
If not for one little hitch.
When I approached my car, I felt something was wrong even before I saw it. A note, pinned beneath the windscreen wiper, rectangular white paper. At first I feared it was a parking ticket. If that is what it was (though I couldn't quite see why), the police would be able to connect my location to the crime. Even though I'd parked a street away, it was probably still suspect. But no, it wasn't that, it was worse...
The white piece of normal paper, about three times as big as a business-card. A single word, written in blue ink, perfectly centered and straight. A neat and simple handwriting, male probably though I couldn't quite pinpoint why. Possibly the straight nature of the letters, lack of round shapes. But while all of that was strange enough, the word itself confused me most of all.
It implied so many things. For one, it implied someone knew about what I'd done and had seen me somehow. I didn't recall leaving the curtains open any time or any leave obvious gaps anywhere that would have made it possible for anyone else to watch. The other problem was of course that if someone knew about me, why did he tell me and not the police? The only quick explanation I had was the possibility of a stalker, odd though that may be. Because, what fun is it stalking if you don't let them know in some way? Though the tone was all wrong, a stalker would try to instill fear, not pride. And this felt very much like admiration, not like stalking. A compliment.
Something was even stranger. As I held it in my hands, thinking and breathing deep, I noticed something that I hadn't expected at all; the note was scented. Not strongly, which is why it took me that long to notice, but it had a very soft hint of a manly cologne. And while my memory was quite accurate most of the time, I couldn't place it. Nothing I readily recognized. At least it reaffirmed my suspicion that it was a man that had placed the note. In fact, the smell on it struck me as accidental, not an integral part of the message, but a hint. As if the paper had been carried on his person for a while before giving it to me.
It was definitely not written in any hurry.
The note was also perfectly clean and straight, so it had to be written on something. Planned. Although it was certainly possible to use the hood of my car for it.
The car itself seemed in perfect order. With movies and paranoia on my mind, I took my time examining it, trying to see if anyone had been inside or changed anything. I checked the boot, the hood and the underside for anything out of place. Perhaps it was silly, but it was better to be safe than sorry and wouldn't put it beyond whoever put the note there that he wanted to track me. No such sinister subtlety could be found though, nothing of the sort anywhere in or around my car. Just the note. Slightly disconcerted, I headed home.
Fortunately, the vibration of the car, the ride home, rekindled the lust I'd felt this night.
The note rested uncomfortably in my glove compartment until I arrived home. There, before it was put on the dresser, I held it up against the light, trying to see if there was anything strange about it. Plain, boring paper. It could wait until tomorrow or even later, many other things would be on my mind before then. Work beckoned me in the morning, a good night's sleep essential in facing the day. Before that, a shower was what I needed to again rekindle the pleasure of earlier tonight.
My skin was surprisingly sensitive.
Showering tonight was a special moment, one where rather than just jump under it I wanted to go slow and fully feel the acuteness of my skin. Rather than fine-tune the temperature while I was standing under it, times like these asked for a perfect adjustment, a shower that was both relaxing and steamy. Then, as patient as possible, I started with my fingers, my arm stretched, and slowly moved closer to the cascade of water. The warmth and drumming drops would cause shivers down my spine, moving all the way down to my feet and circling down the drain with the rest.
Next, my shoulders, slowly feeling the water caress the sides of my breasts, then my nipples, stomach and leg feeling fulfilled and peaceful. Leaning back, the stream of water never touches my head, allowing it to heat and beat my chest, flowing between my breasts, over my stomach and beyond. A little more, my other breast, shoulder, arm, leg. All of them enveloped, covered with drops, warmth and steam. The sundry single shivers melted into a continuous flow of subtle sensations. Everything below my neck reveling in the river of relaxation, skin tingling, muscles calm.
With closed eyes I let the water flow over my face, then my hair.
A twinge thought interrupted the flow, sleeping with wet hair was unpractical, but it was pushed away by the pleasure and need for it. The water filled my hair, taking with it all the thoughts, memories and stress of the night and let it flow down my back, my butt, my legs all the way down the drain. A deep sigh, almost a moan, escaped my lips and echoed in the bathroom. It left me empty, yet full of energy. All of this took only a few minutes, but it felt so relaxing, so intensely sweet.
A simple shower.
Using only the bare minimum of soap, I washed my whole body and cleaned off. My movements fluent and calm, caressing my skin with elegance. It would make for an interesting show to watch, probably. But it wouldn't have felt as pure. Right now, all I felt was the rest, the deep quiet after an explosion that had rocked my world, a force that I had not felt for over a year.
The towel wished to follow the soap.
It was almost a dance to dry myself. Muscles moving without strain, body feeling weightless. Part of the dance was identical to that during the washing, but with the different dynamics, the shape of the object, it had evolved. It would be untrue to say that I gasped while the rough fabric rubbed my nipples, but it would not be a complete lie either. There was still this vibe of sensitivity all over my body, a desire to be touched in the gentlest of ways. If I was inclined to mistress-hood and had a girl at my beck and call, I'd have her satisfy me softly with her sharp tongue, lightly licking me to a soft release while I fell asleep. With those thoughts and a smile both in my eyes and on my lips, I got into bed and fell asleep.
Dreaming vividly and wildly of the night.
In my dreams sights, smells and sounds were all the more lucid, thankfully able to skip the horror of the hallways. In the dream I was much stronger yet more subtle, comparing him to a dog. Commands sharp and precise, no question of disobedience. Of course there was more action as well, no longer afraid that he'd be stronger. He would just have to listen or he'd be punished.
A caricature of myself, acting in a way that was not my own, yet still enjoyable in the confines of a dream.
Morning arrived, the night had been fairly kind to me. Sleep had been fulfilling and mostly sufficient. It was Friday and the day should not bring anything too unexpected. Short shower, fighting somewhat with the tangled mess on my head, getting dressed and eating breakfast. On my way out I remarked, in the corner of my eye, the note of the night before. By daylight it didn't look very different, although I observed one strange thing. The person writing had done so with extreme elegance. While the neatness of the letters had been noticed before, what I noticed now was a lack of indent. For a moment it made me wonder if it was perhaps just a printout of a handwriting font, but the slight difference between the two e's and s's disproved that.
More and more mysterious.
At work the glow of the awesome adventure made me more pleasant to deal with, despite the slight hint of paranoia that made me look at everyone curiously. However, as the morning went on, I realized that it was stupid to think that it was anything work related. The person had specifically given the note via my car, while, if he knew the place I lived, could have had much more impact there. And considering the care I took for my disguises, I doubted that anyone at work would even recognize me most of the time, if at all.
I almost wished for another note.
But work goes on and I couldn't let anyone know of my own curious depravity. The day passed without much interference. Everyone was just happy it was the last day of the week, no one wanted to do too much before the weekend started and some people even left early. The slight annoyance and craving curiosity about the note made me want to go out this weekend but not to hunt, just to enjoy, to distract.
Perhaps I would.