Hello, my lovely readers,
I know, I know... I've been a bit quiet lately. Life, studies, and a very full head of story ideas have kept me busier than I'd like to admit. But I just had to pop in and thank you for the amazing response to my earlier stories--you really know how to make me blush.
Truth be told, when I first started writing, I had no grand plan--just a wild imagination and a soft spot for dirty tales. But somewhere along the way, I started craving more structure, more depth... more everything. I've been tinkering with the plots of my older stories, and I've got a deliciously wicked roadmap in the works.
Still, there are so many ideas dancing around in my mind and only so many hours in a day. So, while I continue to juggle deadlines and daydreams, I'm thrilled to share something special with you: the very first part of my very first finished story. It's juicy. It's bold. And I hope it makes your heart (or something else) race just like the last two did.
Thanks for sticking with me. You're the best kind of trouble.
Kisses,
Pinky 💋
♥♥♥
Hypnomania
Emily's shoes clicked against the concrete as she edged through the crowd onto the platform.
Her breath caught. It felt as if the station walls were creeping inward, their shadows looming taller and darker with every step. Her lungs fought for air, each inhaling shallower than the last.
Not now!
she commanded herself.
With a dry mouth, she forcefully swallowed and stepped forward, not wanting anyone to see her trembling. Shouts and laughter mingled with the metallic screech of brakes, while the PA system crackled overhead, its tinny voice slicing through the air. The sounds twisted together, clawing at her ears and pounding in her skull.
Sweat pooled in her palms, and the strap of her bag slid through her fingers, forcing her to tighten her grip again and again.
She sucked in a sharp breath and held it until her ribs ached. When she finally exhaled, it came out in a trembling rush, her lips quivering as the air escaped.
The train was right there, its doors wide open, waiting. She'd done this before. She had survived worse.
Emily shoved forward; her eyes locked on the doors. Bodies pressed in from all sides, shoulders bumping, elbows jabbing, but she didn't stop.
Couldn't stop.
Her thoughts wouldn't shut up.
What if you get stuck here? What if there's no room? What if you can't do this?
The thoughts slithered in, unwelcome but relentless.
She clenched her teeth and shoved them back.
Not today! I am not letting the fear win.
Today was too important for her to have a panic attack.
Just in time, she made it through the crowd and stepped onto the train.
The doors hissed shut behind her, cutting off the chaos of the train station. An air-conditioned breeze brushed her skin, carrying with it a faint hum of quiet. Her shoulders sagged, the knots in her muscles loosening ever so slightly as she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Her fingers uncurled from the strap, stiff and aching, as her eyes darted across the car, searching for an empty seat like a lifeline. Finally, she spotted one near the window and slid into it, her body sinking into the worn cushion.
As the train got in motion, Emily stared out the train window, her eyes following the rolling hills as they melted into the sprawl of the city's outskirts. The landscape blurred into a wash of greens and browns, the trees flickering light and shadow across her face in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. The train's rumble synced with the pulse in her chest, a low, grounding hum that eased the tension in her shoulders.
For a moment, she let herself sink into it, the motion pulling her thoughts loose like threads from a frayed edge.
But the sway of the train tugged at more than just her body, it dragged up memories, sharp and unwelcome. Her childhood, cloistered on the family farm, home-schooled and hemmed in by her father's iron rules. The one time he'd taken her to church. She'd been so young, too short to see anything but the forest of legs around her. She'd wandered from his side, lost in the crush of bodies, her hands clawing at unfamiliar fabric, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the crowd swallowed her whole.
The bells rang and suddenly everything started moving, pushing her small body around, their legs a blur of indifference as she stumbled, trapped in the tide. After that, she refused to leave the farm for years.
The chaos on the platform earlier had stirred that old fear, but she'd shoved it down.
I am not that scared little girl anymore.
She had learned to navigate crowds. And she had a goal that was stronger than her fears.
She clutched her worn copy of the famous reporter Rachel Lee's latest book, the cover creased and dog-eared from countless readings. The paper felt familiar under her fingertips, the words inside like an old friend she could always count on. Rachel's face stared back from the cover, her smile sharp, confident, the kind that made it seem like she'd never doubted herself for a second.
Emily's eyes stayed fixed on the photo.
For a second she imagined herself in the limelight. Cameras flashing, everyone's attention locked on her, the world hanging on her every movement. She wanted to be seen, to be known, to matter in a way that made people take notice.
Emily had once concluded that her dream was not about fame. It was more about being someone who couldn't be ignored, someone who left an impression.
The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
She could almost feel the weight of all those eyes on her, the heat of the spotlight burning against her skin, the dizzying rush of being someone everyone wanted a piece of.
The internship at Metroplex News Service was her ticket in, her chance to prove that she wasn't just some small-town girl with big dreams. She was realistic enough to know that the job wouldn't match her fantasy, not exactly. But she was determined to get as close to it as she could, no matter what her father said.
Emily's fingers drummed a staccato rhythm on her notebook, and she shifted uncomfortably into her seat. Her father always yelled when he wanted to make a point. His voice still rang in her ears:
The city is sinful, Emily. It is no place for a young woman like you.
But she pushed the memory aside, her jaw clenched in determination. She was finally an adult determined to prove him wrong and make a name for herself.
As Emily stood up to let a passenger squeeze past her, her eyes met those of a young man sitting some rows down. He stared straight at her, his gaze intense and unwavering, as if he had been waiting for her to notice him.
He flashed a broad grin, his eyes resting on her face and then traveling down to her chest. Searing heat flooded her cheeks, and a knot of uneasiness coiled within her stomach. She quickly sat down and moved to the window to get out of his line of sight, clutching her notebook.
But he was still looking in her direction. She could
feel
it.
The seat beneath her, so soft and inviting a moment before, now seemed to constrain her, not letting her sink deeper into it. She looked out the window, the cool glass comforting her.
"Mind if I sit here?" a voice cut through the air.
She turned just as the guy--smiling too wide--was already dropping into the seat beside her. "I'm Max."
His leg brushed against hers. Her spine stiffened, and she pressed herself against the window, the cool glass biting into her shoulder.
Her jaw clenched so tight it ached, her eyes fixed on the blur of trees outside, refusing to meet his gaze.
Her chest tightened, each breath quick and shallow, as if the air had turned into water and she was drowning in it. She forced her mind to a place of comfort.
She thought about her uncle, and how she used to cuddle up against his dog. He was the one person who used to be able to calm her down.
Breathe in calm, breathe out fear,
she chanted his mantra.
"Got a promotion last week," Max said, puffing up a little. "Supervisor, finally."
Memories of her uncle flooded her mind -- the therapy sessions, his eyes kind and understanding. Back then, she wouldn't have been able to ride a train; all her childhood, she had suffered from an anxiety of crowds. He had helped her a lot. She missed him so much, but she could not break down now, not here.
"You know, Josh told me to come over to his place on the weekend and look at his motorbike. He might sell it to me." Max rambled on.
Emily nodded politely, her responses short and clipped, her body leaning as far away from him as possible. The walls of the train seemed to inch closer, the ceiling pressing down until the car felt like a cage.
Max's words spilled out relentlessly, and Emily's heart pounded faster with each syllable. Her chest tightened with the feeling that the air itself was growing thick and immovable. The musky scent of his cologne lingered in the air, bitter and stifling, turning her stomach and producing a stale taste at the back of her throat.