Chasing Selma Pt 01

This is part one of the story of how Selma finds a mysterious man online and signs a contract that states she agrees that he can do whatever he pleases to her for 48 hours. But does she realize how far Erik is willing to take their little game? Will she regret it once she finds herself stalked in an alley? Kidnapped? Chased through the woods...?

All characters are 18+ and consenting adults.

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I haven't heard from Erik since I signed the contract last week, but still, I keep checking my phone. There's nothing but his last message. Short, to the point, telling me he received my signed copy of the contract, and once again asking me to confirm that instead of a safeword we would use the traffic light system.

I had confirmed. I wasn't familiar with the concept, but I felt comfortable with the simplicity of green for go, yellow for "you're pushing my boundaries", and red for stop, as opposed to using a cheesy safeword like "pineapple".

It's hard not to glance at the bag by my desk, waiting for me to finish work and get changed into the dress he's picked out, and the high heels. Much higher than anything I usually wear. I spent some time last night practicing walking in them. I can do it, but running in them will be impossible.

The thought of everything that might happen later brings on a mix of emotions. There's something so exhilarating about mixing fear and arousal. My mind drifts and I start to think of the contract, and all the things I've given Erik permission to do to me for the next 48 hours. I wonder if I'll end up regretting some of the things I agreed to. I wonder how far he's willing to go, how far I'm willing to let him push me.

I absentmindedly rub my thighs together when a knock on my door makes me jump in my chair. The door opens before I can reply, and my boss Hanna enters the office.

"Selma? Do you have a minute?"

"Uhm, sure. Of course," I say, swiveling my chair to face her.

"I just wanted to ask if you could work late tonight. With the new launch next week I could really use someone to go over the numbers again and make sure the presentation is on point," Hanna says.

"Oh. I,- I'm so sorry, but... I have plans this weekend. I need to leave at five by the latest." I feel myself blush as I say it and I look down at my hands.

"I wish I could help you. But I could come in early on Monday?", I say, trying to sound casual.

Hanna briefly looks puzzled. I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've ever said no to a request to work overtime. Usually, Friday night for me means lounging around in my pajamas and watching movies at home alone, so accepting overtime never really bothered me.

"Oh, alright. Well sure, Monday would be great, if you can." She looks like she might ask me what I'm doing this weekend, and I want to sink to the floor and disappear. Thankfully she doesn't, and I can breathe again as soon as she leaves my office.

It's hopeless to focus on work. I give up and pick up my phone to order the Uber. My hands tremble as I punch in the address to the club Erik told me to go to.

He gave me detailed instructions earlier this week. I'm to go there, use the bathroom to change into the dress and heels, put on the make-up and perfume he's requested, and leave my bag with my phone, work clothes, and personal effects with the bartender he claims is a friend of his.

He assured me it would all be returned to me on Sunday. After ridding myself of my belongings I'm supposed to have a drink. Erik said the bartender would tell me when it was time to leave, and that he'd show me where the back door was. I'm to walk through an alley and a car will be waiting to take me to Eric's place. After that, I have no idea what might happen.

I know everything about this should scream 'Danger', and I know I should let someone know what I'm going to do, just to be safe. But who would I tell? I'm not particularly close with any of my co-workers or friends, and there's no way I could tell my mother. But wouldn't it be wildly irresponsible to do this without leaving some sort of clue?

I quickly open up the notepad on my computer and write: "If something happens to me, I was going on a date this weekend. His name is Erik, and his phone number is 907 558009. We're supposed to meet at a club called Hawk, at St. Halvard's Plaza, in Old Town. If I'm not here on Monday something has happened to me."

Writing it down feels wrong. Like I'm admitting that something bad might happen to me. I don't even know his last name, or what he looks like, or where he works. I consider deleting the note, blocking his number, and going home to eat leftover pizza and watch TV.

But I don't. Instead, I watch the clock turn 5, grab my bag, turn off the light in my office, and leave the building. Outside the Uber is already waiting for me. Once again I consider changing my mind, asking the driver to take me home. But he doesn't speak to me apart from saying 'Hello', so I don't speak to him either.

Sitting in the back of the car I keep fiddling with my hands, pushing my hair behind my ears, checking my phone to see if he's texted me, but still nothing. We get to the club too soon, and I thank the driver before getting out.

I've never been there before. I rarely ever go to this part of town at all. The area doesn't feel as safe as what I'm used to from living on the upper west side of the city. Being out on the street makes me nervous, so I quickly make my way over to the door. Stepping inside I'm almost swallowed by darkness.

It takes a second for my eyes to adjust and notice the bar in the corner. The room is lined with intimate booths, red velvet couches, and polished black tables. I look around for the bathroom and spot a sign pointing to a door at the far side of the room. Passing the bar I notice the bartender looking at me, he gives me a brief smile before returning his attention to the glasses he's drying.

I quickly find a stall and start getting undressed. I hesitate before I remove my bra and underwear. I would have preferred to leave them on, but Erik had told me not to. I'm not sure what he might do if I don't follow his orders, so I take them off. There's a shelf above the toilet that looks clean, so I leave my clothes there while I take out the dress and heels.

I've never worn a dress like this in my life. It's floor length, silky smooth satin, in a deep red color. I had wanted to try it on at home, but for some reason, it hadn't felt right to wear a dress like this in my tiny apartment. This was a dress made for something different.

I pull it on, and it hugs every curve on my body. I told Erik my size, but how he got a dress that looked like it was tailored to fit my exact measurements I have no idea. There's a long split that runs halfway up my thigh, and the neckline is so low my breasts are at risk of spilling out. I try to gently tug at it to reduce the cleavage, but there's no give in the fabric.

I sit on the lid of the toilet and remove my socks before stepping into the black and shiny heels, with red leather undersides. When I first had them delivered to my apartment I assumed they were knock-offs. The same with the dress. Because who would spend thousands of euros on clothes for a stranger?

I got curious, so I Googled them while I was at work, and quickly realized they were genuine. All in all the retail price of the shoes and the dress is over 20.000 Euros. That's almost half my yearly salary. The fact that he would spend such an amount on a woman he's never met excites me, but it's also kind of unnerving. Who the hell is this guy?

After putting all of my belongings in the bag I stand by the mirror and do my make-up like he'd requested. I rarely use make-up, only for special occasions, but never this heavy. Erik said he wanted dramatic smokey eyes and deep red lipstick. I'm glad he sent the lipstick with the dress because I don't own anything like that.

Looking in the mirror it's strange seeing myself like this. A completely different person is staring back at me. The smokey eyes and the red lips make my skin look even paler than usual. The only thing that still looks like me is my ash-blonde hair. The soft curls framing my face, falling off of my shoulders.

I splash some cold water on my wrists and the back of my neck, trying to soothe myself before I have to step out of the bathroom. I take one last glance in the mirror before exiting to make my way over to the bar. As I approach the bartender looks up and smiles.

"Hi. I,- uhm. I think I'm supposed to give you this to keep safe for me?", I say, holding up the bag.

"Of course", he says, reaching over the bar to take it from me.

"Selma? Right? You look stunning if you don't mind me saying so. I'm Aron."

"Uh. Thank you", I mumble, blushing hard and having trouble meeting his eyes.

He turns to grab a bottle from the shelf behind him and pours me a glass of something with his back turned to me.

"Your table is over there in the corner," he says pointing before handing me the glass.

I suddenly realize I've left my wallet in the bag. "Uhm, could I have the bag back for a second?", I ask. "My card's in there."

Aron looks amused and replies, "It's all on the house, Sweetheart. Don't worry about it."

I thank him and make my way over to the booth. The heels are really are difficult to walk in, and my nerves are so high strung my legs feel like jelly. It's a relief to sit, and I slide all the way into the corner of the booth, trying to make myself as small as possible. There are only a few patrons, but they're all watching me.

I dare a glance, sweeping the room, and notice several men in the booth across from me staring. Finance bros, out celebrating something by the looks of it. I quickly drop my gaze, hoping none of them will consider approaching me.

I wish I had my phone to keep me occupied. Now there's nothing else for me to do than to drink and obsess about how nervous I am. I don't know how long I'm supposed to wait before the bartender brings me to the back door.

The men on the other table are getting increasingly drunk. The way they keep glancing over at me makes me uncomfortable. I wish I had a jacket or something to cover up with. I can't even remember the last time I wore a dress, and this dress leaves nothing to the imagination. Even though I'm not looking at the men at the other table I can feel their eyes on me.

I'm relieved when I see Aron approach my table a couple of minutes later, carrying another glass of wine and something else.

"Someone left this for you. He'd like you to wear it," he says, handing me a small box wrapped in red silken paper with a black bow.

I take it and look up at him. "Uhm, what is it?", I ask.

"You'll just have to open it to see," he says, smiling.

"Oh. Okay", I say, looking down at the box. "Could, - could you tell me what time it is? I left my phone in the bag."

"Oh, sure," he replies, checking his wristband. "It's almost a quarter past six. But don't worry. I'll let you know when it's time to go."

I smile at him and thank him. I sit for a while staring at the gift-wrapped box. It had to be from Erik, but why was he giving me a gift? Wasn't the dress and the shoes enough? He'd never mentioned anything about a gift when we spoke online. When I look up I notice Aron is still standing there.

"I'll help you put it on," he says, and gestures at the box.

I delicately untie the ribbon and feel a slight flutter in my stomach as I remove the wrapping. Inside is a custom-made velvet casing, engraved with my name in gold stitching. I look up at Aron, and he gives me a reassuring smile.

With a soft click, I lift the lid, and the sight of the item inside steals my breath away for a second. Nestled in dark red silk is the most beautiful necklace I have ever seen. My fingers brush against the smooth fabric as I lift it out, the weight of it telling of its value. I'm mesmerized by it. A choker, adorned with larger diamonds than I've ever seen in my life, and several crimson rubies that glimmer under the dim light of the club.

Am I supposed to wear this? Is this really for me? I look at Aron and see him holding his hand out to take the necklace from me. I hesitate for a second before handing it over.

"Stand up," he says.

I get up and turn my back towards him. I can feel him gently brushing my hair away, revealing my neck. His warm hands send tingles down my spine and I can feel my heart beating faster. He gently drapes the choker around my neck and closes the latch. It's heavy, but not uncomfortably so. I turn and immediately blush, Aron is still standing close to me, too close. I see him glance at the necklace, and his eyes briefly move to the deep neckline of my dress before he quickly excuses himself, returning to the bar.

I pick up my glass of wine and finish it quickly. My mind is racing. Who is Erik? What is the point of the necklace? The dress, the shoes? Is spoiling me a part of his fantasy? Or is it more about how he wants me to look? I should have asked more questions.

I dread walking past the table of men. They're even drunker now, but I need another glass to soothe my nerves. I take a wide berth around their table and hurry to the bar. As I stand there waiting, two of the men make their way over and place themselves on either side of me, standing too close for comfort, trapping me between them. Aron has his back turned to us, getting another bottle of wine off the shelf.

"What happened? Date stood you up?" one of them says laughing, turning towards me. "A woman like yourself shouldn't have to drink alone. Why don't you join us at our table? We were just about to order champagne!"

He puts a hand on my arm and I gently remove it. I don't want to encourage any of them. Aron turns as I answer, "I - I'm leaving soon, but thanks." I swallow hard. The way their eyes are exploring every inch of my body makes me want to run away.

"You still have one more glass to drink, why not drink with us?" the other man says, gesturing towards the wine Aron is handing me.

Before I have a chance to answer Aron does so for me. "She's not interested, guys. Leave it."

Aron turns to me and tells me it's almost time to leave, and I nod before nudging myself from in between the two men and returning to my table. If I want to change my mind, this is my last chance. I glance towards the door. The urge to get up and leave is strong, but the urge to find out what Erik has planned for me is stronger. There's no clock, but I can feel the minutes passing, my shoulders getting tenser with every second.

I should have insisted on keeping my phone. There's still time to ask Aron for my bag back, just to check if Erik has texted me, even though I already know he hasn't. He said he wouldn't, and everything I know about him so far tells me he's the type of man to keep his word.

Just as I'm drinking the last sip of my wine I see Aron waving at me from the bar. I pick up the glass and the empty box that held the necklace before I walk over to him.

"The back door is past the bathroom, take a right turn at the end of the hallway," he says, smiling at me. "There's an exit sign above the door so you can't miss it."

"Uh, what's back there?" I ask, "Does it lead to the street or what?"

"It's just an alley. Head through the gate and someone will be waiting to pick you up."

"Thanks," I say, before placing the jewelry box on the bar. "Could you maybe put this in my bag?"

He nods and picks up the box before telling me to have a good evening.

I wonder if he has any idea what I'm doing. I want to ask who will be waiting for me. I want to know if it's true that he is a friend of Erik, or if he's just some random bartender. I want to ask, but I'm pretty sure he won't answer any of my questions, so I don't.

---

The back alley is dark and dirty, the only light comes from the gap in the door behind me, and when it snaps shut I'm thrown into darkness. I turn to open the door again, to let out some more light so I can get an idea of where I am and where to head, but as I push down the door handle I realize it's locked.

Perfect.. If I had my phone at least I could use the flashlight as a guide. Now I'm stuck fumbling around blind.

As I gently feel my way forward the clouds shift a little, blessing me with rays of pale moonlight that help me see the alley continues around a corner up ahead. I head over there, my heels clack loudly, bouncing off the concrete walls.

I turn the corner and spot a gate at the very end of a long, narrow alley. All the windows along the way are blacked out, and it's so dark I can barely see where I'm going. I take a couple of steps but freeze when I hear the sound of a door slamming shut. My mind races, and I think back to the drunk men at the table inside. Did one of them follow me out here? Are there more of them?

"Hello?", I call out, "Is anyone there?"

No one answers. The only noise is the muted sound of music from the club, and cars passing by on the other side of the building. I turn and walk quickly towards the gate. I hear heavy footsteps behind me and I start running, but exactly like I imagined, these heels are impossible to run in...

When I reach the gate I twist my ankle and stumble forward, letting out a scream when I slam into the cold steel. I hear footsteps getting closer and suddenly someone rams into me, pushing me hard up against the gate.

I feel a hand move up my leg to where my dress splits and I freeze. My mind goes blank, and I'm filled with terror. His hand travels further, pulling the dress up, revealing I'm not wearing underwear.

He runs his hand across my ass before he leans in and whispers, "I knew you were a slut when you walked into the club."

This can't be happening. I have to get away from him. I try bending my knees, thinking that dropping down towards the ground might be a move he won't anticipate, and maybe somehow I can duck out of his grip and run away. But it's like he reads my mind, and before I can even make a move he slams me into the gate again, pressing his body against me, knocking the air out of me.

"We can't have you running away now, can we Sweetheart?" he says.

I don't recognize his voice, but it could be one of the men from the bar. Anyone could have overheard Aron telling me to leave by the back door.

"Please," I say. "Just let me go. My boyfriend is picking me up, he'll be here any minute. Just let me go and I won't tell anyone."

He laughs. "No boyfriend would let his woman go to a club alone dressed like this. You're lying".

He takes a step back, releasing me, but when I start to turn around to face him, he gives me a rough shove towards the gate.

"Place your hands on the gate, and lean forward. Spread your legs", he commands. "I don't want to hurt you, but trust me when I say I will, if you don't do as you're told."

There's no one around to help me, the door to the club is too far behind for anyone to hear me. Up ahead is just another abandoned alleyway. How far away is the street? Would whoever's driving the car that's supposed to pick me up hear me if I screamed? Or would a scream just guarantee that he'll hurt me?

My only chance seems to be to talk myself out of this, and it occurs to me that the necklace I'm wearing must be worth a fortune.

"I don't have any money, but my necklace is real diamonds," I say, my hands moving up to my neck to unclasp it. "Just take it please, and let me go."

He laughs and grabs the necklace, yanking it so hard it digs into my skin and chokes me. The clasp breaks, and I stumble forward, clutching my sore throat, gasping for air.

"I don't want your trinkets bitch, now do as I said, or you'll regret it," he says, throwing the necklace at my feet.

I'm shaking, but I do as I'm told. What choice do I have?