The stranger

I though best to get this unknown factor out of the way as soon as possible. If it was someone after using me, I could tell them I was already booked, courtesy of Carmencita. If I couldn’t escape her, she could at least unknowingly buy me time to escape anyone else.

I accepted the four messages. I won’t copy them out as I have previous correspondence, but the gist of them is that Laura, my locker-room neighbour with the big boobies, was in on the plot, and had good reason to believe I was too. Apparently she was friends with Carmen though I never saw the two together, and when they spoke of me after this morning she pegged my true colours. She insisted I call her as soon as possible. So, I obliged.

“Hello?” said a girl's voice.

“Frank here, Frank Oliver. You messaged me four times over the last hour.”

The words took a moment to register with her. Then she said “Yes, that’s right. I’m Carry. Laura’s not here.”

“Not here?” I asked. This was going downhill. “Is she real?”

“Yes, she’s real, forgive me. She gave me her phone to keep watch while she's busy. I’ll go and see if she's finished processing.”

“Processing?” but she’d already gone without the phone, leaving it wherever it was on her end. In the time she left me I wondered what I was getting into, and whether it would be good to abort and run. It was unsettling how businesslike this 'Carry' was.

“Still there, Frank?" she called, "Laura says what time can you talk? She wants to deal with you herself.”

“Over the phone, you mean?”

“Yes,” said Carry.

I checked the time. Most of the afternoon was passed now, so the evening meal with family was a close event. If no special goings-on prolonged the meeting at the dinner table, the safest moment to get into conspiracies and plotting would just be plain night-time.

“Call again after 9 pm,” I said.

“Ok. I’ll tell her.” Then she added “Nice to meet you, Frank. Sit tight and lie low,” and hung up.

I dragged myself off my bed, ignoring the day’s exhaustion wearing my limbs down. I had to think to quell my headache, and to think I had to pace a bit.

Laura knew enough about me and Carmencita to correctly interpret the dynamic between us as a sign of my deviance from the new norm. Yet I never spoke to her or laid eyes on her beforehand, never got wind of her being remotely close to Carmen. She had sufficient power and influence to entrust her personal communication device to someone else, in the midst of this overturning of mores. Yet she went to school and appeared not to be anybody special beyond her generous physical assets. Carry's last words were promising though. They were the most sound advice I'd heard spoken to anyone all day.

I went through my remaining spurious calls and contacts, and was pondering which was best to answer first when I heard footsteps from the stairway outside my bedroom door. I heard the door to the little atrium open, and then the person stopped. Gillian was silent for a moment, then she knocked on my door and called to me.

"Frank? Do you have a minute?"

Noting there was a problem accessing the last written message from Charlotte, I shut down my phone, and quietly walked over to the door. I wanted as much control over the situation as I could, and that meant personally allowing entry.

"Hello, Gilly," I said. She started slightly as the door unexpectedly swung open, the light jolt shaking her pert breasts on her bare naked chest. She was no more clothed than when I arrived.

Smiling apologetically she said "Sorry to bother you, could you help me? There's this spider in my room and I can't get it out."

I waited for her to tell me this was a joke. When she didn't, I stammered "Well, um, have you... tried getting it out?"

She nodded. "It's very odd, I can't see it clearly all the time. It sort of disappears."

The last thing I needed was to indulge in sex-mad people's adjacent craziness. I folded my arms. "Is the spider real, or is this some ploy to bring me near your bed?"

She stared at me wide-eyed, genuinely shocked, and I instantly regretted being so bold. "It keeps me from sleeping," she said, "Look, maybe it is my imagination, but if no one comes to have a look I can't possibly know, can I?" and then she added, with a sly grin "Besides, Mother thinks you lied when you said you were spent. I haven't told her you didn't cum in me. I don't have to tell her, if you don't give me reason to..."

"I told you," I insisted, doubling down on my cover story, "I came already lots of times today, I'm spent. Nothing left in me. Haven't you noticed last time you had a boyfriend he didn't cum so much if you screwed him all day?"

She furrowed her brow at the word 'boyfriend', as if it required effort to process. When the cogs were done turning she shifted her hips and cocked her head to one side. "Maybe we'll see if that holds up after you've eaten. Then you'll tell me whether my spider is real and what I'm to tell Mother. Or you can help me now and I'll do as you like no trouble. If you're so hell-bent on not making love to those who love you, so be it, so long as you help me find a way to sleep tight before nightfall."

She turned, and gracefully carried her naked self to her own door, pausing as she opened it. She looked back at me over her shoulder, silently saying 'make up your mind'.