The problem is that once my stalker makes himself truly known, I’m not sure I can handle who he truly is, he leads me down a dark path of pleasure mixed with pain.
Elliot falls off the bed, arms and legs wild as he tries to catch himself, “FUCK!”
I can hear he’s breathing hard from the other side of the bed. “What the hell is going on?” I say as calmly as possible. I’m so embarrassed and so shocked at this turn of events that I can’t do anything but stand there, not knowing what to do or say.
Elliot chooses that moment to stand up and rub the sleep out of his eyes. After blinking a few times, he suddenly realizes the crazy situation we currently find ourselves in.
“Shit…Annabelle! I…I… I’m so sorry…You got sick last night, like a lot, ended up puking on yourself and me.” He’s passing the side of the bed, running his hands through his hair.
“Then you broke down crying hysterically because Fred, your fifth-grade goldfish, never loved you so he just up and died, like a goldfish can commit suicide! After 45 minutes of that nonsense, you started going on about how you let Jeremy Fletcher get away, and how he was the one for you, even though you were eight when he moved away! Aand you HATED him!” He comes to stop, facing away from me, rubbing his temples.
“THAT DOESN’T EXPLAIN WHY YOU JUST HAD YOUR HAND ON MY PUSSY!” I scream in response. I can’t handle this shit right now.
“I thought I was dreaming!” He finally turns to face me, shoving his hand in my direction.
I am horrified. I’m standing in front of my best friend, the only person I have in the entire world, in only panties after he just finger fucked me to orgasm following a night of drinking.
Once I notice that my tits are out and bouncing around, I snatch a blanket off the bed and wrap it around me like a cocoon.
“Just get out of here,” is all I can think of to say, not looking at him.
There’s no coming back from this, there’s no way our friendship can survive this. Tears are slowly falling down my cheeks. Now I will always assume that he’s thinking about me naked, that he’s jealous of anyone I ever go on a date with.
I can’t deal with any of this right now.
My head is screaming.
For some reason, he finds this situation amusing, since he’s smirking at me.
“So, are you super mad now?”
I just stare at him, not understanding.
“What? What does that even mean?”
Now he’s laughing, “You have a cape on, so now you must be Super Mad.”
“Get out Elliot.”
I never thought I would be a writer, it was never an interest of mine. But when the voices start in and won’t let you sleep, you write so they STFU and leave you alone for a while.
If you see me online, I’m probably sitting in a closet, hiding from my kids. I’m sarcastic, love a dirty alpha male, and love to laugh.