He left me a note again. It doesn’t say much, nothing other than two simple words, ‘I’m coming.’
Heat coils in my stomach and ice spreads over my skin as I stare at the words, the letters jagged yet somewhat neat. I know I should be afraid; I am afraid. This is my stalker. Stalkers are dangerous people, and I’ve heard countless stories upon which innocent women have become victims to these men. Despite that, I’m thrilled. The notes he sends me are sensual and erotic, and this one is no different. Only two words he sent, yet with less I feel more. In those two words, I know what he wants. I know what he will get. Tonight, I’m the prey; the helpless gazelle in the path of a jaguar. But I will not run.
I unlock the door. I pull the curtains aside. I head to my couch and drop my skirts, making a point to caress my legs as I do so. I know he’s watching. I’m going to give him a show he can enjoy.