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Bewilderment

Gwendolyn

G wendolyn didn’t stop looking over her shoulder until she got her front door open.

The encounter with the strange man with the strange name had reasonably set her on edge.

The things I’m willing to do for a doll, she thought dourly, shoving the door open.

Once safely inside, she firmly locked the door and wiped her mouth with her cardigan sleeve.

Disgust filled her at the memory of what she had done in order to gain her precious doll.

Gwendolyn made a sour face as she removed her shoes, and it only deepened as she hung her purse and keys.

It was for the doll, that’s all that mattered, remember ?

The thought didn’t bring Gwendolyn any comfort.

While she had gotten her prize, she still had to endure that man’s tongue inside her mouth.

The memory of it sent a shiver down her spine.

Gwendolyn had never enjoyed French kissing.

What few times she had, it always ended up with a man shoving his tongue down her throat.

Sloppy and overcrowded, Gwendolyn usually felt uncomfortable during and after.

Gwendolyn placed the paper bag onto the small, round kitchen table and shrugged her cardigan off her shoulders.

But who even has a tongue like that?

A warm flush spread up her neck.

That man hadn’t just been strange in his business dealings.

Gwendolyn couldn’t shake the vivid memory of how strange it had felt in her mouth.

It was more than just the invasive incident that made her uneasy.

At least that had been more familiar.

Now that Gwendolyn had time to think about it, what had been so off-putting was the size of it.

The man’s tongue had felt …

massive. It felt larger than a regular tongue, but maybe that was because it had been ages since Gwendolyn had kissed anyone?

“Stop thinking about that awful man,” Gwendolyn grumbled to herself.

“An awful man with an awful name. Who the fuck names their kid after the dog’s steed from the Labyrinth? ”

She crossed the short distance between her small kitchen to her laundry closet.

Sliding the doors open, Gwendolyn bundled up her work cardigan and tossed it inside.

She quickly followed with her work polo and under shirt, pulling the wet fabric over her bust and head with a disgruntled huff.

Her bra was sweaty as well, and Gwendolyn sighed as she finally wrestled it off .

“Ow,” she complained, running her hands over the skin of her shoulders.

The straps had left deep grooves that ached.

She was long overdue for new bras, but Gwendolyn didn’t want to go into a department store.

Online shopping was also a hassle, as sizing wasn’t always accurate between stores.

It was just as bad as sizing for jeans.

Gwendolyn removed her pants and tossed those into the wash as well.

She continued to massage her poor shoulders as she walked to the bathroom along the same short wall.

Inside, she found her sleeping shirt hanging from the hook on the back of the bathroom door.

The material was thin, but one of the few fabric blends that didn’t make her skin angry .

The sleeping shirt brushed her thighs once Gwendolyn straightened the fabric around her body.

Gwendolyn set to work on undoing her braid, pacing the small expanse of her bathroom in small circles as she went.

Thoughts of Ambrosius—and his tongue —continued to plague Gwendolyn despite her efforts to put the incident behind her.

You still have to see him in a week.

Gwendolyn rolled her eyes, gathering the hair that had come loose and tying it back into a sloppy bun.

What she needed was to cool her temper.

A quick splash of tap water would do the trick.

The faucet handles were finicky, and Gwendolyn ignored the way the entire piece moved as she turned the handle on.

She gathered water into her cupped hands and brought it to her bent face.

The coolness was enough to release the small tension between her shoulders, and her temperature didn’t feel quite as hot as before.

She lightly patted her face with the small towel hanging off a ring hook next to the sink.

As Gwendolyn brought the towel down the side of her temple, something caught her eye in the hanging mirror.

There was something on her bottom lip, so small Gwendolyn wasn’t sure if she would have noticed it without the aid of the mirror.

Her amber eyes narrowed in confusion, pressing her body against the sink and bringing her face closer.

Her lips parted in surprise.

It was a heart. Not a literal one, but a tiny Valentine-like one right in the center line of her bottom lip.

Gwendolyn brought her fingers to her mouth, pressing gently at the dark mark.

She regretted it immediately, wincing at the sting of pain, and surprised at the vibrant spill of blood on her fingers.

“What the hell…” Gwendolyn murmured as blood dripped over her lip.

She hurriedly cleaned the small wound.

Gwendolyn rarely had dry lips, so why on earth had her lip split open—

“Fuck,” she cursed before pressing the small towel to her lip.

Her body warmed considerably at the memory of Ambrosius biting her.

Gwendolyn had been offended when she thought it had only been that.

But, no, the asshole had bitten hard enough to draw blood .

An act that made Gwendolyn furious as she dabbed delicately across her lip.

“Fucking. Awful. Men ,” she cursed through gritted teeth.

The towel would have to be treated before she could wash it, but Gwendolyn couldn’t be bothered to do it now.

If that entire experience had been a joke to Ambrosius—one that came at the expense of Gwendolyn’s pride—she would at least reap the rewards.

She didn’t have to show up to work tomorrow until eleven in the morning, which meant Gwendolyn had all evening to work on the Maddie doll.

Gwendolyn dropped the ruined towel near the door as she vacated the bathroom.

She pivoted to start the laundry before heading toward her prize.

Despite the terrible afternoon, Gwendolyn felt excitement building in her fingertips.

She had done it. Acquired the one Miss Moxie Doll that she had yet to customize.

A rush of ideas swirled in her head, but Gwendolyn tried to hold them at bay.

She needed time to examine the doll beneath her tailored outfit, to see how well the skeleton had survived with time.

She smiled at the sight of the paper bag, reaching eagerly for the doll.

Ambrosius may have been a dick, but he had kept his word, and Gwendolyn was at least grateful for that.

Gwendolyn placed the doll onto the kitchen table and slowly unwrapped it, mindful of all the accessories before stuffing the wrapping paper into the discarded paper bag.

It was difficult to describe the feeling of holding a dream in her hand.

In some ways, Gwendolyn still couldn’t believe she was looking at her.

A genuine Miss Maddie Moxie Doll on her kitchen table.

Glee bubbled in her chest and Gwendolyn held the moment for a few seconds longer.

When would she ever have this moment again?

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Gwendolyn smiled.

It was time to get to work.

First, Gwendolyn would have to remove each layer of clothing.

She sat in one of the two chairs at her table, lifting the doll in her hands.

Her fingers traced over the clothing, before deciding to start with the shoes.

They were small, no bigger than her pinkie fingers, in a hot pink that made Gwendolyn’s heart sing.

She loved vibrant colors, though her studio apartment didn’t reflect that.

Gwendolyn hadn’t bothered decorating much, given painting meant no return on her deposit.

Hanging art or photos usually left a cleaning fee, too.

The shoes came off with a small snap, an indicator that no one had removed them in quite some time.

Gwendolyn moved toward the trench coat, slipping her fingers around the opening to push the material off the doll’s shoulders.

She was so engrossed with the careful removal that she didn’t notice the new fuzz against her hand until it moved.

Gwendolyn jerked back, dropping the doll with a clatter.

Her hands shook with disgust as her amber eyes widened.

Crawling from beneath the trench coat of her doll was the fuzzy body of a spider.

Gwendolyn wasn’t familiar with spider species, but she recognized some of the traits on this one.

It was small, with fuzzy legs and a front facing face, and an oddly brilliant blue back.

It would have been adorable, if Gwendolyn hadn’t been jump-scared by it.

She felt silly, heart racing at such a helpless thing.

“Okay,” she said with a heavy exhale, nerves still high.

“Okay, okay—we— you need to leave.”

Whether it was normal to talk to a spider wasn’t up for Gwendolyn to judge.

She talked to most of her dolls on a daily basis, and it only felt polite to speak to this new guest. Gwendolyn eyed it as it crawled across her doll and she tried not to glare at it.

The stowaway needed a new home, quickly.

Scurrying in her kitchen, Gwendolyn grabbed a paper towel and placed it near the spider.

Naturally, the spider didn’t come closer, so much as jump halfway across her table.

The movement was so sudden that Gwendolyn jumped herself, accidentally reopening the wound on her lip.

Another pinch of sharp pain and blood trailed into her mouth.

“Great, just great!” she grumbled .

The spider skittered across the remaining distance of the table, and dread coursed through Gwendolyn’s veins.

She could not have this spider running around in her apartment.

Gwendolyn was already struggling with sleep, and the last thing her exhausted mind needed was to worry about eight-legged freaks running across her prone form and dying in her mouth!

“Don’t,” she commanded it, blood spilling down her chin.

The spider froze but Gwendolyn highly doubted it was because it was listening to her.

If she could recall anything from science class—a subject she hadn’t touched in almost twenty years—the spider was more scared of her than she was of it.

Those beady eyes were more likely trying to figure out the best way to escape from her.

They stared at one another for a long moment before Gwendolyn slowly reached for the paper towel.

If she covered the spider before it could leap, maybe it would prevent it from jumping.

Her fingers pinched the corner of the paper towel and as quickly as she could, slapped it onto the spot the spider had been.

A soft crunch met her ears.

“Oh, no,” Gwendolyn winced.

Her flattened hand shifted and Gwendolyn could feel the hardened body of the spider beneath it.

The realization that her attempt at catch and release had resulted in death sent a pang of guilt in her.

She didn’t like spiders, but she didn’t believe in killing them, either.

But there was little she could do to save the insect now.

Steeling her stomach, Gwendolyn slowly removed the paper towel.

She was prepared to deal with the remains of a spider, guts and all.

However, when Gwendolyn looked, there was no trace of it.

In its place were the fragmented pieces of the pink-tinted sunglasses that came with the Miss Maddie Moxie Doll .

“How—”

Gwendolyn flipped the paper towel over, searching for blood or any piece of the spider she had definitely killed a moment before.

But there was no sign that there had even been a spider at all.

Just the small impression of where the doll’s sunglasses had torn into the paper towel when it snapped in half.

Her stupor was interrupted by the soft plop of blood, rapidly spreading across the paper pulp.

That was right, her lip was bleeding still.

Awkwardly, Gwendolyn pressed the paper towel to her mouth.

She stared at the tiny remains of the doll’s sunglasses long after her lip had stopped bleeding.