She was being stalked. She knew it, but couldn't prove it. It was subtle things like the colour of the car always parked on her street that had never been there before. Sure it could be new neighbours, but she hadn't seen anyone move in or out recently. It was the odd postcards she was receiving. They weren't addressed directly to her, but she'd been living in the same place for 5 years now. It was the occasional single red rose left in the handle of her front door in the mornings. Maybe a secret admirer, but that's not what it felt like. She would walk to work with her keys between her fingers and most of the time she'd receive a ride home. It wasn't usually too late but now with winter drawing nearer, it was getting darker earlier.
It was Friday, the end of the week finally. It had been a tougher week at work than usual. More cranky clients, more work, tighter deadlines (mostly because she'd procrastinated last week), all-in-all she was glad to be done for the weekend. Fridays were the only days her rides weren't secured and this Friday she had none. It was a little later than usual but she was finally done for the night, the weekend. She grabbed her coat and headed home. It wasn't a far walk and tonight was a rather nice night. She was feeling rather liberated, she finished everything and so there was nothing to weigh her mind down this weekend. She didn't have plans, but that didn't bother her any. She wasn't paying attention, not like usual.
He followed her from work and knew this time he would follow through to the end. Within 10 minutes he already knew she wasn't paying as much attention as usual. She wasn't clutching her keys between her fingers and her walk was more playful. He was sure she would finally be in the right frame of mind to accept everything to come. He kept his distance, but also made sure he wasn't too far. He knew exactly when he'd act, when he'd pounce. He almost chuckled out loud at that thought. It made him think of a cat, crouched and ready to pounce on an innocent mouse. Thinking of himself as a cat was just downright funny. He was more the tiger type.
He knew she'd remember him once she saw him. He knew he was the last person she'd ever expect to see. He had been gone much too long. He hoped she'd still remember all rules, all his rules.
She was a dreamer. She loved the night air and the way the crisp air felt after a long day inside. It was exhilarating. She was so elated she wanted to start skipping, but that's wouldn't be proper. That's the thing she hated the most about getting older. She hated how "society" dictated how people could or couldn't act. If she wanted to skip she shouldn't have to worry whether it was proper or not. She let out an audible sigh as she continued up the steps to her front door.
As soon as she pulled out her keys to unlock the door she froze. There between the handle was a single red rose. Her heart began to beat harder. It was unusual for there to be one there after work. She pulled it from the handle and unlocked the door. She didn't have the door halfway open and had barely pulled the key out, when she felt his hand around her mouth and his whispered breath in her ear.
"Good evening. I would highly suggest against any defensive action," he whispered loud enough for her to clearly hear the seriousness in his tone.
She knew from the moment he said good evening who he was. His voice sent shivers down her spine. She gripped her keys forcefully, but knew she was no match for him. She wasn't even sure she really wanted to fight back.
Her mind raced with so many thoughts. What is he doing here? Why did he come back? How long had he been watching? She knew he was the one stalking her now. She had no doubt about that. Had she upset him? Would she upset him? Did she still want him? Did he still want her?
He gently guided her inside. She didn't resist, although in her mind she wanted to. Once inside he maintained his grip on her arm and his hand remained over her mouth, but he used his foot to shut the door. He guided her to the kitchen first. "Keys on the counter," he stated firmly. She obliged. Her other hand still holding the rose.
"I'll allow you to speak, but if you scream you'll be gagged for the remainder of the time I'm here," he told her. "Understand?"
She nodded and he removed his hand. She didn't move, unsure of what he wanted, why he was here. She was tense and sure he could tell. Her breathing was heavy and her heart still pounded heavily. "Why are you here?"
He laughed. "Have you forgotten so much already, my pet?"
She turned slowly and looked at him confused.
"Hm. Well in that case," he tightened his grip on her arm, "At this very moment, I'm here in your kitchen because I'm hungry." He watched her reaction.
After a short silence, she came to the realization that she was still his. "Yes Sir. What would you like to eat?"
He smiled and released her arm, "Surprise me."
"Yes Sir," she replied meekly. She placed the rose on the counter as she went to the pantry and began pulling ingredients; she could feel his eyes on her the entire time. She began preparing the meal; chicken, potatoes, and salad was what she had been planning on eating tonight, what would a 2nd plate really matter. She smiled inside, thinking about the fact that she wasn't really doing anything special for him. She'd been free for too long.
He moved to the table and took a seat. He continued to watch the way she moved. He could tell she was nervous, anxious, and unsure. He wanted her so badly, he'd have taken her right there in the kitchen if it wasn't for the plan he had. She'd been free for too long and he knew this. He'd left her without being able to predict his return let alone a specific timeframe. She probably never expected him to return. It was business, he couldn't help it, and due to his line of work he couldn't guarantee he'd ever return home. He was now though and he knew she'd be wondering if there were "other" women. He was most definitely going to be enjoying his time alone with her.
She added the finishing culinary touches to the meal before bringing both his and her plate to the table. She returned to the kitchen to grab some utensils and 2 glasses, which she also laid out on the table. One final return to the kitchen for a bottle of pop and then she returned to the table and sat down. She rested her hands on her lap knowing that she was not to start before him. She looked over at him in anticipation.
"Are you hungry my pet?" he asked quietly.
"Yes Sir."
He loved hearing those two words. Sometimes he'd ask yes or no questions just to hear her speak the answer rather than because he had any interest in the question. "Do you believe you deserve to eat at the table?" his tone was a little more serious.
She was unsure how to answer and remained silent.
"Hm. You don't know how to answer that do you?" he retorted with a chuckle. He paused for a moment and then had a thought. "I don't want you to eat just yet. Understand?"
