Page 8

Chapter eight

Ashia

The Next Day

It’s been so long since I’ve had sex, and about the same time that I’ve touched myself. The thought of anything going near my vagina, even if it was my own hand, was revolting. Though last night, the overwhelming urge that knotted up my stomach for the first time in years, made me restless. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to go to sleep feeling so needy, and that small release loosened the tied-up knot I’ve found myself in.

I first felt the pooling between my legs again last week, on a random Tuesday when the flowers continued much past the expiration I expected. Someone actually thinks these things about me? They could actually be drawn to my dark and shielded self? What does he look like? Would he look anything remotely similar to the dark God that graced the sidewalk a couple of weeks ago? What does his touch feel like? The thought of that causes a heat to flood my cheeks, but also a shiver down my spine.

I still don't think I'm ready for a man to touch me, but I might be okay with touching myself now. I need to buy some toys, I think. I could ask Ser to take me ‘shopping’, but the thought of that also makes me nervous. She is much more experienced than I am, and some of the things she tells me causes me to shutter in awkwardness.

The flowers this mysterious admirer leaves might be enough for me, though. They smell so good, it’s as if a burning desire lingers from them and I can smell the infatuation every morning when the scent infiltrates my nostrils. Each one smells different, yet at the same time they all feel familiar to each other. Like they are able to tell me the same person leaves them for me to find every morning when I open my door. As if each flower was a piece of him, and they’re slowing putting him together.

Emmett and I have checked the security cameras in the hallway, and there’s nothing on there about them being dropped off. Every time we’ve looked, my mat is empty one second, and the next, the flower is there. As if it appears out of thin air, or a ghost placed it. He suggested I call the police, especially with my past, but how do I explain to him that I don’t feel threatened? Yes, my paranoia gets to me sometimes, and I have been more on edge lately than I have been in a while, but it feels different. I can’t quite pinpoint it. If I could describe it, I’d say it’s a mix of anticipation, anxiety, and longing. Okay, and maybe some paranoia and fear, but not enough to make me scared of this guy. My shot nerves aren’t necessarily afraid of this person, but more or less intrigued.

A secret admirer is one thing, but why can't we see him? What’s he hiding? Why is it so important that I can’t know who he is? If someone was this infatuated with me, wouldn’t he want to know me? Talk to me? Allow me the chance to witness the generous act of buying me flowers? The fact that he wants to remain secret doesn’t help settle my nerves. Who would go so far as to conceal themselves that carefully? If it’s such a huge risk to be seen, why is it justifiable to sneak around only to drop me off a flower?

Or perhaps, more.

I was dreaming last night…there wasn’t a man in my room. My dreams always get the best of me. I know that, but something was just unsettling last night. Soft, but unsettling, and it was like I could smell him in the room with me. Like the flower lying next to me somehow twisted my mind to see the ghost and allowed my psyche to connect beyond the veil that separates the living and the dead.

Jesus, Ashia, you’re going crazy…

I’ve tried thinking of all of my clients it could be, and none of them stick out. It couldn’t be Cooper, right? No. He didn’t love me. He didn’t even like me. Plus, he’s too closed-minded and evil to know about half of these flowers. I’ve looked them up, and some of them are very hard to find. Flowers were never his thing anyway, just knives and fists. Now that I think about it, I'm not sure I’ve ever received flowers. Except from Serena’s mom and dad on my graduation day, and I held onto those until they withered and fell apart.

I grab my keys and open my door to check for a flower. My eyes widen and my breath stalls when I see how alluring the newest floral gift is. It’s a rose. A very dark, seductive, blackened rose. The tinge of red is still present, but barely. Just enough to prove the authenticity behind it. It’s not often that one becomes this dark naturally and is extremely rare and hard to come by. I only know that because I tried to order some naturally colored roses a couple of years ago on Halloween, for my birthday. I couldn’t even find a florist that had them. So, how did he get this one?

I quickly bend down to grasp the stem, and when I don’t flinch away with stings to my palm, I notice that the admirer must have taken the time to snip the thorns. Warmth ravages my chest and lungs as I press the flower to my nose and inhale the sweet aroma.

This one is unique, and definitely overpowers the other flowers that have been left. It’s scent, while still floral, is spicy. Like a basil or fennel would smell, and it smells warm, as if the scent melted in a wax warmer and spread through the air. As I inhale, I feel it scatter across my sinuses and deep into my chest, warming me like a blanket. It’s almost impossible to pull it away, and I feel it’s absence the moment I do. As always, I check the tag to find my name, but when I turn it around this time, there’s not a sweet note.

Only one word.

“Soon…”

I know that should worry me. What if this admirer wants to kidnap me and murder me? Spend hours torturing me? Or sell me for sex? At least you'd get some dick. I can hear Serena say in my head.

I feel my phone buzz in my back pocket, and I halfway expect it to be her with her notorious impeccable timing. Though when I open the notification, a shiver of fear rushes down my spine at the sight of a message from an unknown number.

Unknown Number:

When you touch yourself tonight to the smell of this flower, just know it will be me touching you soon.

My eyes widen at the words while my hands begin to tremble so much I drop my phone, and the clash it makes with the floor forces my body to jolt. How does he know…can he see me right now? I look up and down the small hallway to see no one. Nothing. The only things present are the four doors to the apartments and the set of stairs leading to the small lobby beside Cut Me Down.

I immediately pick my phone back up and dial Serena. My mind and heart are racing, causing a tightness to my chest at the possibility of a real threat. This isn’t a memory or a knee-jerk reaction anymore. This is happening right now, in real time. Anxiety and fear washes over me like a tsunami as it hits. Serena is the only person I can think of right now that could ground me and keep me safe, and I just want her close to me. To tell me I’m dreaming, or I’m overreacting. That this isn’t fucking happening.

It only rings twice before she picks up.

“Hey girl! What’s up?” She says excitedly like my world hasn’t been thrown around like a football.

“Can you come to the shop? Like now?” I shakily beg.

“Yeah, I'll call the on-call nurse and tell her I'll be a little late. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Her tone changing to worry.

“You remember me telling you about the mysterious flowers? I think I have a full-blown stalker.”

After calling Serena, I immediately ran downstairs to the shop and locked myself inside. At least down here we have cameras, and I’m much more visible to the public. The large windows at the front of the shop will make it easier to have witnesses if someone gets too close to me.

I immediately started looking online for cameras, and other security devices I could use, but most of them are out of my monetary reach or wouldn’t be useful in my apartment. I thought about buying one of those poles you stick under the doorknob at night, but that doesn’t help the windows right next to the stairs of the fire escape.

My next internet search was for the local gun stores. I won’t dare show my face in another pawn shop, and if I was going to need self defense equipment, I wanted to make sure it was reliable. After I recovered, Tony showed me some self defense moves to be able to escape someone’s clutches, but we never really went over how to fight back. I'm not sure even sure I could. I know it’s called the fight or flight reflex, but I think freeze is also included in mine. I’d like to think that if someone actually tried to hurt me again, that I would fight back. But would I? The way I halt at the wrong noise tells me that I probably wouldn’t.

The flower that I clenched in my fist from fear, stared at me the whole time. I should’ve dropped it when I ran, but I wasn’t thinking. I just clenched my fists for dear life and ran down the stairs, and the more I look at it the more curious I become. Obviously, this person knows where I live, he’s been leaving me flowers for weeks, but how long as he been able to see me? Can he see me? The text could have been timed at just the moment.

Right?

I’m pouring hope in all of the wrong things. I know that. The logical part of my brains knows that there is no coincidence in this scenario, but the other parts of my brain are in a blaring mode of denial. So I thought in that moment, that it was time for a test. To see what this person is really doing and what he can do. So, I grabbed a glass cup from the back room, filled it with water, and put it on my station. The black rose slid in with ease, while my mind raced with uncertainty.

Now thinking about it? Definitely not my proudest moment or my smartest move, but I figured that if this man was watching, that it would stir him and cause him to react. Hopefully not in retaliation, but in a way that can make the situation more clear. I was hoping to come down here, start working, and calm myself down, but that turned into something else. Determination.

Even though I'm still shaky, and the eerie feeling hasn’t gone away, I still opened the shop and got to work. Acting as if the flower on my station won’t jump out and bite me. The doorbells rings, and the shot to my nerves is much sharper than the previous couple of weeks. I jolt at the sound, causing my client to look up at me in the mirror with confusion and concern etched on his face.

Pulling myself together and looking to the door, Serena walks in fiercely and comes up to the half wall. Her bouncy, waved, blonde hair not looking near as pissed as her strong stomping portrays. Those bright green eyes of hers dart out with concern and anger as she flings her purse onto the front desk.

“Show me.” She demands.

“I'm sorry Phillip, give me a sec.” I say softly to my client.

“You’re good, Ash! I'm not in a rush.” He says comfortingly as I walk around the wall and pull up the messages on my phone.

“This is what I got this morning.” I show her the text from earlier, and then I scroll down. “Then this is what I got after I set my station up.”

Unknown Number

You putting me on display baby girl?

She looks over to my station to see the black rose sitting in the cup in the corner, and I immediately see her pupils contract and tighten, showing her obvious disdain for my idea.

“Ash! Why the fuck would you put that there?” She asks fiercely, pointing to it.

“To see if he was watching me. Guess I was right.” She squints her eyes at me and shakes her head at my poor decision-making skills. “I was feeling brave! Or I was for a split second at least.” I say regretfully. She looks back down at my phone, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion, then snaps her eyes back up at me.

“Wait a minute,” she gets quiet and sneaks her face up to mine so she can speak. “You touched yourself last night?” She whispers.

“Oh my God, so not the point!” A strong and seductive smile creeps onto her face.

“I'm so fucking proud of you.” She says, as if anything I just showed her didn’t matter.

“I hate you.” I walk back over to my client and start to finish up.

“Oh, come on Ash. You know what? We’re going out tonight.” I jerk my gaze back to her.

“Out? You think this situation warrants us going out?” My voice cracks under the insane idea of going out in public with a stalker on my heels.

“Well, it’s obviously no safer here. At least this way you'll be with me, and we can scope out the public to see if anyone is following you around.”

“Maybe we should just call Tony.” She sets my phone down on the half wall harshly. “Hey, be easy with that!”

“Fuck Tony! He does shit by the book, which means before he can even do anything for you, you'll be dead. We’re handling this without Tony’s good boy routine. It’s probably just someone trying to fuck with you.” She says so matter-of-factly, and completely ignoring my plea over my phone.

“Yeah, but why would someone do that, Ser? It doesn’t make any sense.” I grab my phone and put it back in my pocket.

“I don’t know girl; men are crazy. No offense, Phillip.” She holds her hand up in surrender to him, and he just shrugs his shoulders. “So, I'll pick you up tonight?” She grins as she sticks her hip out, already gearing up for a night of bad decisions.

“I don’t think so, Ser. I have to work early tomorrow.” That, and I don’t feel like being actual bait for my stalker.

“No, you don’t.” A male voice rings out. I turn around to see Emmett walking through the back door. A large, tall, strong black man, who always wears the same barber’s shirt and jeans, kind of like I do. The gold chain his wife gave him hangs around his neck and sways with his movements. His skin is pristine, not a freckle or tattoo covering his smooth brown skin. His demeanor showing the confident caring man he is.

“What?” I furrow my brows and ask in confusion.

“Ashia, honey, you are always here. I appreciate how much you do for me and my family, but you've got to get out before you go stir crazy, and you deserve a day off. Have fun with Serena tonight. I'll see you Wednesday morning.” He turns away and begins to set his station up.

“Great! I’ll pick you up at eight and we’ll pregame.” She playfully blows me a kiss “Love ya! Don’t text the stalker!” She reaches her hand up and waves tall. “Bye Emmett!” She says as she walks out.

“Thanks, Emmett.” I turn and say to him, sure to add a twinge of attitude.

“I can’t tell if that’s sarcasm, but I'll take it.” He smirks at me, knowing damn well it’s sarcasm.

Once I finish with Phillip, I walk him to the front desk and check him out, clean up my mess, and go to take the next guy. I can’t help but stare at the rose like it’s going to explode if I move too quickly. Serena was right, maybe putting it on my station was a bad idea. He could have texted at the right moment out of coincidence, right? And everyone masturbates, so that could’ve been a lucky guess.

I mean, I know it’s not. I trust my gut, and it’s telling me that this is more than just flowers and coincidences. I should call Tony, but so far, this guy hasn’t done anything to hurt me. Granted, he somehow figured out where I live, and got my phone number, but as far as I know, he hasn’t tried to come near me. Tony would probably tell me there’s been no real crime committed yet anyway.

“Michael? You ready? Come on back.” I call for my next client and walk with him to the chair. “What am I doing for you today?”

“A haircut.” Yeah. No. Fucking. Shit.

This stalker better not be as mind numbing as some of my clients.