Intimidator (7 page)

Willow sighed. She tapped the mug then sat forward to hunch over it. “Fine. What happened… Some men tried to attack me after work, at the pub.” And she hadn’t called the cops either. She glanced up but Ally only nodded.

“The man you heard, he rescued me. He was like a knight in shining armor, galloped in, beat up the bad guys, brought me home. But he says he’s an alien. Clearly he’s insane. Says I’m being studied and that he’s going to fix my every problem.” She chuckled and shook her head, took another sip.

“Uh-huh.” Ally looked serious, lifting and lowering one eyebrow then the other like she did when she was thinking. “Sounds cool. If you don’t want him, I’ll have him.”

Mouth open, she stared back. What the? The girl had never said anything like that about her other boyfriends. “He says he’s an alien!”

“So?” She shrugged. “Minor deet.”

“Minor fucking detail! What?”

“Shhh.” She waved her hand downward. “Stop shouting. So, did you do it?”

“I…what? Did I do what?” But they both knew. Somehow she knew that Ally, smug girl who never left the house unless the sky was falling, knew he’d done something intimate to her. “Um. No.” Hell if she was going to say it out loud.

“Okay.” Then she took a macaroon from the packet in the middle of the table and bit down. The crunching filled the awkward silence. Willow could swear she was smirking.

The subject of their discussion surfaced in her head. All confident and male, a man who had possibly made her come in record time. They’d clicked, at least sexually. Even now, her pussy awakened, warmth spreading. Where his fingers had been, the places he’d touched, she seemed to feel his skin against her again, even up inside her, as if she’d ever forget that invasion. That had been so hot.

The clink of china jolted her from her reverie. Ally was washing up and she hadn’t noticed her stand or push back the chair. She had her back turned. Furtively, Willow pressed the heel of her hand to her groin and inhaled sharply, biting back a moan. She was going to have to unearth her vibe from her underwear drawer ASAP.

“If you want to date him, I’m fine with that. Even if he is an alien.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I should thank you for that. Besides, he mightn’t be my type.”

“He is. He’s a good alien. Pass me your mug.”

She stretched and did so. “Meaning there’s bad aliens up there too?”

“Oh sure there are. Only some are down here.”

A chill crept in, like something dark and insectile crawling through her on little cold feet. Ally said the oddest things sometimes. Tomorrow, or even this afternoon, she’d be biting her nails and hiding under the bed sheets again. Least she hadn’t told her about Kasper being involved. That would definitely have freaked her out more than a fantasy alien.

Her next shift at the hotel was evening again, starting at four o’clock. She phoned, bracing herself for questions, though also wondering why she’d not heard from the cops. How could that disturbance not have been reported to them by
someone
?

There was nothing. When she begged off her shift due to being assaulted, Cheri was appalled, shocked, sympathetic – everything except aware that it had happened a few yards from the back door of the hotel. How could this be? Sure, Stom had suggested things had been cleaned up somehow but she hadn’t believed it.

This wasn’t simply a matter of Kasper buying silence with threats. Cheri didn’t know anything at all about anything.

Even all the breakages – yes, she’d heard the glass shattering from the alley – but it was dismissed as a drunken brawl. After assuring Cheri that she’d call the police about the assault, Willow said goodbye.

Was any of what Stom had said true? How? How could it be? Yet what else could explain people plain missing memories like that? It made her think.

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, in her underwear, poking her injuries and trying to decide if she was going crazy, or if it was Stom who was, or maybe the rest of the world.

The bruises on her neck were in the shape of fingers.

“What if no one is crazy?” she whispered. If it were true…she stared down at the soap next to the basin. The one thing she remembered so well it was seared into her mind, was when he’d finger-fucked her.

Her boyfriends in the past, some had been handsome, some too pretty for their own good, but only Stom was so massive, so daunting.

What was with that? He could’ve snapped her like a…she prodded her electric toothbrush…like a toothbrush, but he hadn’t. He’d sat there on the step, talked, and when she tried to run away, he’d grabbed her to make his point, and kissed her.

The memory was fresh and she could feel his tongue on her nipple. The little bumps around the edge of her areola rose up as she watched herself, remembering the roughness yet also the softness of his tongue on her, lapping, wet, hot. She whimpered and reached blindly for the toothbrush. She’d never tried it before but the thing buzzed and she was rather desperate. The bedroom was too far away.

Ally was watching TV from the sounds coming from the living room.

She switched it on, slowly approached the front of her panties where her clit was already poking up in a little bulge against the lace. Before it even contacted her, she held her breath, anticipating. She moved it that last half inch, touched. Oh my. She gasped and crumpled forward.

She ran the head of the buzzing device up and down, pressing the material into her slit before returning to the ultimate destination, her feral, throbbing, upstanding clit that was damn near screaming out to be touched.

Using an electric toothbrush – so slutty, so gorgeously nice.

Buzz. Buzz.

Pleasure swamped her in waves of fucking awesomeness. Her nipples begged to be touched too, standing up and aching. She eyed herself. She wasn’t the biggest girl in the boob department, but maybe she could reach herself?

Still rubbing the plastic back of the toothbrush on exactly that right spot on her clit that aroused without being too much, she pressed her left breast upward and stretched, straining to lick herself. The tip of her wet tongue made the distance, just. She circled the nipple, dabbing, tapping, feeling the sensations meet and intermingle.

She bucked forward onto the toothbrush.

“Ohh, fuck.”

Though her neck hurt she kept up the exquisite double act, her hand half-circling her breast while the delicious buzz throbbed and hummed into her pussy. She panted, licking, feeling the sensations build. At last, straining forward with her thighs, and writhing a little on that naughty vibrating thing, she came. She shuddered, gasping through the orgasm, half-conscious she might be overheard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Her legs gave out and she kneeled on the bath mat, with her forehead on the cool painted timber, and the toothbrush still rattling away.

“Well,” she mumbled, switching it off with her thumb. “Fun.”

How decadent. The crotch of her panties felt slippery with her moisture. She very carefully cleaned her toothbrush, glad she hadn’t succumbed and tried to put it inside her. That would be so slutty, so bad, so disgusting. But she had thought it for a second or two.

At least now she had it out of her system. An orgasm a day keeps the mind from wandering. Damn, it was hot in the bathroom.

Hot, oh yes. Stom was that by far.

Already she had ideas. If he’d been here, right now, she’d have jumped him. Alien nutter story or not.

Embarrassing.

Think work. She had the firefighter training run in a few days. Tomorrow she’d have a go at jogging over the course. She’d be well enough by then. There weren’t going to be that many chances to get into the next trainee firefighter intake and all this strangeness wasn’t going to stop her.

Willow fanned herself. Her face was flushed. Maybe she should wait before going out where Ally could see her.

Maybe she could try the toothbrush again to see if she could do it twice?

She switched it on, feeling even guiltier, but found a second climax elusive. Apart from sending her clit numb, nothing happened.

All that day, she tried, using her fingers and her super-throbby vibe, cursing her horniness and even eventually, the absent Stom. She couldn’t, quite, come. So close but no relief arrived.

The inner certainty that Stom could help her go over the edge became such a draw that it sank in and made a light bulb flicker on. He
had
done something to her. Bastard.

How? Not possible.

“Damn.” While staring up at the darkened ceiling, she wriggled against her fingers. She needed sleep, and she wasn’t getting any – sleep or orgasms.

“Fuck you, Stom. I will not be dictated to.” So she rolled over, punched her pillow and shut her eyes, determined to ignore the throb in her groin.

She drifted into sleep, only to dream of sitting atop Stom and slowly sliding down onto his cock. She woke in the middle of that one and lay blearily looking past her forearm at the darkened room, feeling her thoughts assemble.

How dare the man invade her dreams? She closed her eyes and imagined running Stom over with a stampede of baaing sheep. Willow smiled. That helped. She snuggled deeper into the bed.

Morning arrived. She awoke and found herself sweaty and so wrapped in tangled sheets that it took a whole minute to free herself. Her damp underwear had left a wet spot on the sheet and her inner thighs slippery. Yet she remembered nothing of the rest of the night. Dreams were such sneaky things.

Face in hands, Willow sat on the edge of the bed, tired, and still aroused.

She slumped through breakfast, munching corn flakes, raising a brow at the chatter of the overly cheerful Ally. Afterward she ventured out onto the back concrete step, coffee mug in hand, to sit contemplating the gray curve of the concrete reservoir that overshadowed the rear of the house.

This had always been a good place to sit and think. Even Ally liked it out here and on a few occasions, they’d climbed the ladder together to the top of the reservoir. They’d lain up there looking at the sky and the wandering clouds. Brilliant times.

Life had become strange. She’d been meaning to jog today, to keep fit for the firefighter tests, but her brain had kicked back into gear. What the hell had she been thinking? Jogging? Now, when her life was in a mess? Either Stom was an alien, or worse, he was a loony. Either Kasper was after her and aiming to kill her, or he wasn’t, and what had happened was an isolated assault.

An isolated assault that no one else had seen or remembered? Which wasn’t possible, was it? Where did that leave her?

The sick feeling in her stomach solidified into a lump. She had to sort this out. Either way, Stom was right. She should be running – either from Kasper or from him, or both.

Did aliens exist? She pulled her phone from her pocket and began searching. Google wasn’t the be all and end all but it was a beginning.

Are aliens real
, she typed.

Could anyone sane be thinking about this question? There was an Australian Cynics Organization or ACO. The cynics were into debunking alien and paranormal theories and sightings. Better to talk to someone who had their feet in the real world, surely? A tiny unpolished website led her to an actual phone number, as well as an email and, what the hell, could it hurt?

Someone answered.

“Hello?”

At the other end of the line was a man who sounded about eighty but after some cautious questions she asked him about aliens and how to tell if she met one. He gave her a whole spiel about higher technology and different bodily appearance and the communication difficulties that would be likely.

“What if they look like us?” she asked.

After a short silence he said what seemed a key point. “Something will be different. The more you look, the more you would find.” He paused again. “Why do you think this person is an alien? The simplest explanation for anything is often the correct one. If they’ve told you they are one, it’s likely they’re not, but that somehow, that lie helps them. Are they asking for money, personal details? They could be dangerous.”

Willow swallowed. Her heart was thumping on her ribs. She could feel it in her neck arteries, in her temples. How had he picked up on the fact that she’d met someone she suspected? She must sound such a doofus.

“He called himself a hunter. He…they, seem to be able to wipe memories.”

“Uh-huh. Okay. Then how come you remember him?”

Good point. She slowly lowered the phone to her knee, listening to the distant squawking before pressing
end
.

This was impossible to figure, unless Stom gave her some more clues, and he wasn’t here. Maybe he wasn’t coming back? Maybe he was the most insane man she’d ever met.

Kasper was real, though. Even if she wasn’t on his hit list, she couldn’t tell that for sure, and she definitely should do something positive. Dying was hard to come back from. Kasper might not be a psychopath…then again, he might be. She’d heard bad things.

But, leaving here, on a whim? The men who attacked her had said nothing about Kasper being after her.

She put her finger to her mouth and nibbled on the stub of a nail.

They couldn’t run, not without Ally being far more prepared.

“So.” She squeezed the phone until the edges hurt her hand then did it again, because it made the headache go away. “I guess I need a gun.”

Nicolai. Bonus points, he knew people who knew Kasper, and would tell her things if she asked nicely. Probably. Maybe. Gossip might be her savior, even if she dreaded knowing, even if the gossip was bad news.

She dug her nails into her palm. Wanting the pain. The distraction. “I hate this.”

Her palm had a row of red crescents.

She wanted to go back to being anonymous, like she’d been most of her life. If this was Kasper’s doing, rescuing Monique must have been the catalyst. Had the house failed her or had Kasper been reminded of what had happened by someone in the car? She didn’t know the distance the house’s effect worked for, only that it did. Unless…it was wearing off?

When she first recognized what was happening, she’d wondered if it might be her aunt’s ghost helping them out. If so, would she some day move on and leave them to fend for themselves? And if it was simply the house, why and how?