She left Steve asleep in her bed as she went for a shower and to try and think about what had come over her. In the last twenty four hours she'd brought home a total stranger named Mike for a one night stand, and now she'd seduced an old boyfriend who'd come over to help fix up her new Victorian home. Why? She usually wasn't so horny, and certainly not so forward. But try as she might she couldn't feel bad about it. Indeed, as she stepped into the shower she realized she felt great, never better even. But even that was a little strange, as she'd just wore out her ex-boyfriend and left him asleep in her bed. She should be exhausted, beyond worn out. They'd done a nearly complete tour of the house, alternately screwing each other and fixing up the room they happen to be in. There was no logical way she could have done all of that and not feel tired, sore and ready for a nap at least. Yet, here she was, feeling better now than she did when she started. It didn't make sense.
More than anything, she was curious now, not worried. Whatever had gotten into her hadn't done any damage, just the opposite for her at least. And nothing a nice long nap won't help Steve from recovering from. The fact that she'd, for the first time, had worn him out just struck her. She had to admit, she felt a bit proud of that. Only, now she was the one who was ready to keep going, and he was out cold. And a part of her did want to keep going, and she knew if Steve woke up anytime soon she might see if he was up for some more. Then again, she didn't want to hurt anyone, and it was possible to hurt the guy if she only felt more invigorated after each orgasm and he only felt more worn out. No, best to let him rest up, regain his strength.
Still, she couldn't believe her train of thoughts, nothing but sex! Whatever happen to her belief in relationships? In something other than just the physical? She knew something was happening, and wondered if her current concerns would be drowned the next time she thought of some guy she wanted to sleep with. It was kind of scary, and yet at the same time, thrilling.
She got out of the shower and stared at the steam covered mirror before wiping away a space for her to see herself. She had to admit, she looked as good as she felt. It's my new diet plan, she thought to her self, loads of sex and a couple of showers a day. Slipping back into her bedroom she grabbed her robe before heading out of the room. She didn't want to disturb Steve, convincing herself that it was simply so she wouldn't be rude and wake him, and not admitting it she also thought about him regaining his strength.
Realizing she'd not eaten all day, another wonder considering how much of a work out she'd had, she took the back stairs down to the kitchen. In the doorway she paused. The table was cleared off of the light fixtures, Steve had in fact installed most of them in between them having sex in each of the rooms where he worked. Now a single tupperware container sat on the table. She didn't remember leaving it there, or even pulling it out of the box of kitchen supplies that stood open beside the refrigerator. That alone was a little strange, but the truly odd part was that the container had held her small collection of magnets for her fridge, including a promotional pack of refrigerator poetry magnets, a word or portion of each word on the magnet. Now the whole collection was on her fridge. The center of her freezer door was covered with a random scattering of words, except the exact center. There, someone, it had to have been Steve was Diane's first thought, had arranged a poem for her:
today you please him driving wild entertainment little did he ask how
now tonight we dance for I'm hungry to show you how I can feed your need
to live on love
But, if it had been Steve who wrote it, why would he have written this? And who besides himself did he think she'd been pleasing today? She was starting to consider that the poem was from someone else, and that this someone else must have something to do with what she'd been experiencing, when the doorbell rang.
She headed down the hall to the front door, wondering who this could be and at the same time trying to recollect the limerick she'd composed when she came to answer the door for Steve. Failing at recalling the limerick she was surprised to find a young lady holding a casserole dish.
"Maggie!"
"Um, hi, my mom wanted me to bring you a housewarming."
Diane stepped back, inviting in her friend and co-workers daughter, "How's our suicidal sky-diver doing?"
Maggie smiled back, "She's getting better, but she still can't get around with her cast up to her hip."
Diane closed the door behind Maggie, "Well, you'll have to tell her thanks," she said as she took the casserole dish. "So how's school?"
Maggie shrugged in a manner that Diane knew to mean her answer was only a facade, "Well enough, grades are fine."
"Uh-huh, look, why don't I put this in the kitchen and you make yourself at home. Give me a chance to give you the grand tour."
"Sure," Maggie made a point of looking around the living room, "It's a great place," she said, smiling back at Diane.
"It certainly has done wonders for me," Diane headed back to the kitchen, "Can I get you anything to drink?"
"No, not right now, I'm fine."
Diane paused in the doorway to the kitchen again, looking over at the fridge. Only this time, instead of the poem, her eyes were drawn to a grouping of words just below the poem. She tried to remember if those same words had been there before. She couldn't. For all she knew these same words had been sitting there, innocently enough, while she stood reading the poem for the first time. She couldn't tell. All she knew was this new message was as clear as day to her now:
kiss her she wants you
Diane crossed to the fridge while glancing around the room. She was alone, felt alone, but still she wondered if she was, in fact, alone. She put the casserole in the fridge as she stared at the message. She, Maggie. The freshman daughter of her friend and co-worker. In her living room. Wearing a light flowing summer dress and sandals. Brown curly hair down to her shoulders.
Diane traced a finger down the words again. Kiss. Her. She wants. You. "How do I know I can trust you?" she whispered to the magnets. She didn't want to hurt anyone, herself or her house guest, but something was certainly at work here, and Diane knew if she just walked back into the living room she was likely to do just what the magnets said even though she'd never been with a woman before and certainly hadn't considered it before that moment. Even now the thrill of uncertainty, what it would be like, how it would feel, how did Maggie taste, the very unfamiliar of it all was what caused Diane to suddenly want Maggie. Now. Naked. Laying out on Diane's sofa in the living room. With Diane's robe laying discarded beside Maggie's dress. With Diane feeling another woman's smooth skin for the first time. Maggie's fingers twisting in Diane's hair. Diane lowering her mouth to Maggie's...
Diane swallowed.
She took a deep breath. "Answer me this question," Diane closed her eyes as she tried to think of the right way to ask the question. She didn't want any loop holes, and certainly didn't want to make a mistake. "Will you ever cause any harm, physical, emotional or mental, to any guest or resident of this house?" She jabbed her thumb down against the freezer door. Before she opened her eyes she realized that she was far more likely to have missed a magnet than to have hit one. But she hadn't, she could feel a small smooth magnet under her thumb. Slowly she opened her eyes, and just as slowly she moved her thumb off the magnet. One word. One answer. And she felt a wave of reassurance as she read it.
Never.
"Alright, I'm holding you to it." In the back of her mind she realized she was only talking to a bunch of magnets on a freezer door, but another part of her, the more vocal part at the moment, felt she'd come to an arrangement with something, or someone.
