Fan Mail

Brandi eased herself into the passenger seat and closed the door, setting the recovered purse carefully across her lap as though she was afraid it might disappear a second time if she let go of it. The frantic search through the diner, the tears, and Jon's endless calls to cancel her cards had left her emotionally drained.

Even now, her hands trembled as she rested them on the worn leather, unable to shake the certainty that it hadn't been there when they'd climbed out of the Rogue. She drew a slow, unsteady breath, glanced at Jon, and unzipped the purse to reassure herself that everything inside was exactly as she'd left it.

"Let's just make sure everything's here," Jon said, trying to sound calmer than he felt.

Brandi nodded and unzipped the purse. She began emptying the purse onto her lap, checking each item with growing relief. Her wallet was exactly where it belonged, followed by her driver's license, a small stack of cash, her cell phone, the credit cards they had just spent the last half hour canceling, a tube of lip balm, and a handful of crumpled receipts.

Everything appeared to be present and accounted for. If someone had taken the purse, they hadn't stolen a thing. That should have made her feel better. Everything appeared to be exactly where it belonged. Instead, it only deepened the knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

"I don't get it," she muttered. "If I left it in the car, why do I remember it against my leg in the diner?"

Jon rubbed a hand over his face. "I don’t know. Shit happens."

She wasn't listening. Her fingers continued feeling around inside the purse, checking every pocket, every zipper, every corner. Then she paused. "...What's this?" She pinched a crumpled piece of notebook paper between two fingers and slowly pulled it free.

"I don't remember putting..." She carefully unfolded it. The words were written in thick black marker; Nice Pussy. The color vanished from her face. She stared at the note without blinking. She felt a traitorous warmth between her legs. "Jon."

He turned toward her. Without speaking, she held the paper out. His eyes dropped to the message. His expression hardened instantly. For several long seconds, neither of them spoke.

Finally, Brandi found her voice. "I didn't put that in there. I've never seen it before."

Jon took the note from her, turned it over, then looked back at the purse sitting open in her lap. "Somebody had your purse."

Brandi slowly nodded as a cold feeling settled into the pit of her stomach. Her thoughts raced back through every moment since they had left that morning. She remembered laughing with Jon in the Rogue after lfinger fucking her cunt for the truck driver.

She thought about the drive to the diner, carrying her purse inside, setting it beside her in the booth, and walking to the restroom. She remembered returning to find it gone, the frantic search, the panic, and then somehow discovering it sitting in the back seat exactly where she knew it hadn't been. Her fingers tightened around the purse.

The more she replayed the afternoon in her mind, the less she believed she had simply forgotten it in the car. She swallowed hard. "Jon..." He looked at her. "...The truck driver." Brandi read the note one last time before folding it in half and slipping it into the center console.

Neither of them spoke for several seconds. The late afternoon sun poured through the windshield, but the warmth no longer reached either of them. Brandi sat with the purse clutched tightly against her stomach, her knuckles white around the leather straps.

"I don't like this," she finally whispered. "I mean, someone had my purse. They went through it. They touched everything. My wallet. My driver's license. My phone." Her voice began to shake again. "Some stranger had all of my personal information in his hands."

Jon kept staring through the windshield.."Let's not jump to conclusions."

"What conclusions?" she asked. "The purse disappeared. Then it came back with that inside." He couldn't argue with that. She looked down at the purse in her lap as though it had somehow become contaminated. "It feels..." She struggled to find the word. "...violating."

Jon reached over and squeezed her hand comfortingly. "I know."

"No, I don't think you do." She looked at him, genuinely frightened now. "If somebody stole your wallet, you'd be angry." She swallowed. "It isn't just money. It's everything. My ID. My phone. Pictures. Receipts. Insurance cards. Whoever did this knows my name."

The realization seemed to hit them both at exactly the same moment. Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Brandi sat with the purse in her lap while Jon stared through the windshield at the fading afternoon light, the folded note resting silently between them.

The violation of it all left a knot in both their stomachs. Someone had watched them, singled them out, gone through Brandi's belongings, and left behind a message that made it unmistakably personal. It should have been nothing but frightening. Instead, buried beneath the fear and disgust, each of them felt something they were deeply ashamed to acknowledge.

The same reckless decision that had left Brandi feeling exposed had also awakened something neither of them had expected, and now the note had twisted those emotions together until they could no longer tell where the desire ended and the dread began. Neither dared put those feelings into words, afraid that saying them aloud would somehow make the stranger who had written them even more real.