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I found this story in one of my writing files. I thought it good enough to see the light of day. I hope you all enjoy it. Take care and keep reading!
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The dark spoke to her.
It whispered and giggled, surrounding her and not letting her rest. It seduced her, calling her to come from the safety of her room, to join with it and to play in its silky caresses until the first hint of dawn chased it away and she would crawl back to her room, climbing into her bed to sleep until her alarm would go off and she'd have to drag herself to work.
She did things she didn't remember. The darkness covered her, blocking out memories of events that should be important. She could feel them, buried deeply inside herself as if a wall, an insurmountable wall, covered them and refused to let her see.
It terrified her, that knowledge that she couldn't remember everything she did. Did she kill people, hunt them down while darkness covered her footsteps, silencing their screams? Did she rob innocent people? Could she be selling herself?
She found money sitting on the front table near the door almost every morning when she was leaving for work, money that she didn't know where it came from. And if it had only been a few dollars, she could have probably shrugged her shoulders and laughed it off. But it wasn't, only this morning she had found six $100 bills, brand new and still crisp laying in a perfect fan on the glossy surface of the table.
She'd taken to scanning the newspapers, searching for articles of robbery or murder. She subscribed to all the daily local papers, after all, with the money she was finding almost every night, she really didn't have to worry about her finances.
Now, though, she stared in frustrated oblivion at the figures that were on her computer screen. Her head ached from her many thwarted attempts to reassemble her movements of the night before. She remembered going to bed, determined to spend the entire night in much needed sleep. But it had seemed as if she'd only just closed her eyes when she'd heard it again, that ghostly whisper of seduction that seemed impossible to resist. An eerie and compelling voice, breathlessly calling her name... Tara, Tara...
"Tara!"
She jerked and sat up, looking up at her supervisor, Mrs. Beaks, who scowled down at her in disgust.
"Wake up, girl. Maybe if you didn't spend every night partying, you'd be able to do the work that's assigned to you." The harsh older lady thumped her fist down on the stack of files next to Tara's computer that still needed entering into the system. "I expect these done by lunch time, girl."
"Yes, Mrs. Beaks," Tara McKenna said quietly. But inside a voice raged impotently, bitter old crow, you need to get laid. She turned back to her computer and her fingers flew over the keyboard, inputting data as fast as she could.
She could see the supervisor's shadow still standing over her and didn't look up until it moved away. "Bitch," she hissed almost silently.
The deep voice behind her startled her. "I heard that."
She gasped and whirled in her chair, the wheels creaking as it moved. "Dammit, Chance, don't scare me like that. I'm already in enough trouble, I don't need more."
Chance Matthews was devilishly good looking with dark hair that shone with gold lights in the sun and eyes that looked like a cat's, amber yellow and mysterious. The smile that crossed his face creased dimples into his lean cheeks that seemed eternally tanned. A slight five o'clock shadow of whiskers darkened his jaw, adding to the air of bad boy that seemed to follow him wherever he went.
Tara knew that when he stood up, he would tower over her petite frame, standing just a little above six feet three inches in his stocking feet. His body was muscled and taut, more from being an athlete then any attempts at weights or body building. He played basketball and football, ran four miles every morning and loved rock climbing. He also worked two jobs, this one, doing grunt work for Corp America Banks, inputting information into their data processing system and another as an orderly at a nursing home, downtown.
Women followed Chance with their eyes, offering themselves with teasing smiles and lust in their hearts. Tara had seen him walk to the cafeteria at break and watched the female heads turn, eyes zeroing in on his backside. She couldn't actually blame them, he definitely had a memorable butt.
"So what has you so jumpy tonight, Princess?" he asked in that voice that could send shivers down a woman's spine.
"Nothing, I just... didn't sleep well last night." She couldn't tell him, no matter how close they had become since he'd started working at CAB, having been given the computer behind her.
"You know, Tara, I could help you with that." He stared at the petite red head, wishing she knew how much he wished she would take him up on that offer.
There wasn't much of Tara, but what was there packed a huge punch in a guy's libido. She was tiny, barely reaching his chest, but curved in all the right places. Her breasts were round and full and pushed at the fabric of the thin tee shirts she wore, making him wish he could see exactly how well they would fit his palms. Her hips and butt filled out a pair of jeans in ways that made his dick twitch and come to life in his pants.
With that deep auburn hair that curved under in a perfect swing to caress her shoulders, dark gray eyes that almost seemed stormy, and a spattering of freckles across her tip turned nose, she captivated him. When she smiled, which she didn't do enough of, her face lit up taking a pretty face and making it beautiful.
She scoffed and turned quickly, feeling the evil eyes of Mrs. Beaks combing the room for slackers. Over her shoulder, she hissed one last comment before they got back to work. "You wish."
Oh the things he thought of to say, things that he wanted to do to her. But she would be shocked, he knew that. She treated him like a friend or an older brother, laughing at his attempts at flirtation with her. He didn't know if she thought he was kidding when he said these things or not. He knew he wasn't but how to make her see it, he shook his head sadly.
She was ruining him for other women. He'd had a date last night, a beautiful blonde with huge...assets, that had been more than willing to let him check out her portfolio. And he hadn't been able to do it. The instant she opened her mouth and started some inane babble, his brain had switched to autopilot. He managed to nod at the right time and to interject the appropriate yes or no when necessary. She hadn't seemed to need him to do anything else, keeping up a steady, if annoying, chatter that lasted all evening.
And in the cab, on the way back to her apartment, her red tipped dagger shaped nails had scored lightly down his jacket sleeve, her big blue eyes shining seductively, her lush lips pursed in a tempting pout, she'd invited him up, for coffee and breakfast, she'd said.
He hadn't believed it when he'd heard his voice declining an offer that any man with a pulse would have leapt at. "I have an early morning tomorrow. Maybe next time?"
