Nikki's Secret

by William Malmborg

  Toby came into the room, looked at him for a moment, and then began to clean himself.

  Bill watched for several seconds before heading back into the main room to sit on the couch by the window, his hand flicking on the radio as he walked by so he could catch the second half of the Eric and Kathy show on 101.9.

  Nothing interesting was being talked about, but just hearing the voices felt good. Listening to Melissa’s traffic report and visualizing what the daily commuters were facing on the various roadways leading into the downtown Chicago area also felt good and knocked down the disappointment he was feeling about his writing career.

  Seeing he was on the couch, Toby hurried into the room and jumped up on his lap, paws kneading his chosen area into submission before settling his body down. After that it wasn’t long before Bill fell asleep, the coziness of having the cat on top of him coupled with the total exhaustion he felt from the sleepless night making it impossible to keep his eyes open.

  5

  Kimberly half expected to find a new envelope taped to her front door, or another package for Nikki sitting in the mailbox, the time away at breakfast having provided ample opportunity to place something, but nothing was there. The relief this created was short lived, not because something occurred after she got home, but because she knew something would occur in the near future.

  Such thoughts had made it impossible to enjoy her breakfast. She also had caught herself constantly scanning the people around her to see if they were eyeing her or taking pictures of her. Eye contact was made on a few occasions, but she couldn’t figure out if it was just due to her frequent glances their way or had a more sinister purpose. She also never caught anyone taking her picture.

  A question on why someone had taken pictures of her yesterday appeared, but then faded away without an answer. Don’t dwell on it, she told herself.

  Naturally the suggestion was easy to make, but hard to follow. She would do her best, however, the systematic flipping through channels while also going over her upcoming class schedule seeming to work . . . for a while.

  6

  Why are you doing this? Mark asked himself as the sign for Route 47 appeared on the right hand side of I-90. You know it isn’t going to end well.

  The answer was simple. If he didn’t try his mind would quickly convince itself that he had made a mistake and that if he had just gone back to Nikki’s place and given her a second chance he would have finally gotten sex. It was a ‘better to try, fail and feel sorry for yourself then think you missed out on a sure thing’ attitude, one that hopefully would go away once the virgin version of him was finally laid to rest.

  And if she laughs at you again?

  No answer arrived.

  He did know one thing. Those profiles he had seen on some of the escort service websites he had been visiting every couple of nights for the last several months were growing more and more enticing. The trouble was he couldn’t break the fear that he would hesitate in making his interest in paying for sex known to the girl, concern over the possibility that she would be one of those escorts who really didn’t prostitute herself getting the better of him. Plus, with his luck, he would get a cop.

  Safer to head out to the Bunny Ranch in Nevada, he told himself. Looking at the profiles on that site was another activity that was seeing more frequency during the nighttime hours, thoughts on maybe scheduling a trip to the Bunny Ranch, or some other legal brothel, during his spring break earning some serious consideration. It was an option he had first started to consider last year, but hadn’t really taken all that seriously, especially once his conversations with Nikki had begun. Had it not been for those emailed messages he very well may have scheduled an appointment and bought a plane ticket, his need for sex making the exorbitant cost of the trip seem superficial -- at least when heading out there. On the way home he probably would have kicked himself over and over again for spending so much money on something that he should have been able to get for free.

  If only I could pay for it here without fear -- and without the travel expenses. Sadly, the moral police would never allow such a situation to develop, the idea of paying for sex somehow wrong in their eyes.

  But I wouldn’t be paying for the sex; I would be paying them to leave afterward. Mark had come across the statement when reading opinions on a news story about the legalization of prostitution a few months earlier. It was one he knew many men agreed with, the attraction of being able to have sex without all the other relationship necessities hard to pass up. In the future, if he ever found himself having sex more often, he might have been able to claim the same sort of statement, but now he knew he wouldn’t care what type of relationship activities followed. If it meant having sex he would happily do whatever the woman wanted afterward, no questions asked. Cuddle for an hour? No problem. Buy her dinner? Of course, I’m a gentleman. Clean her toilets? If she asked I’d probably say yes.

  He considered several more extreme examples of things he would probably agree too while turning onto Route 47 and heading toward Plank Road. Concern came with the thoughts because he suddenly wondered if he would put his better judgment on hold in order to get it.

  Oh, you want sex, the lady says while taking off her respectable business attire to reveal a tight leather garment complete with a belt for holding nasty stinging punishment tools. Well, you can only have sex if you’re a good little boy, and first things first, a good little boy has to do whatever --

  He cut the thought off and focused on the road ahead, hands guiding the car to the right lane as he crossed the intersection where a BP Station stood, and then merging back into the only lane as the left lane split off into Route 20. From there he eyed the upcoming turn onto Plank Road, a strange type of Hindu (or some other Indian religion) temple sitting on the corner. The building always caused Mark to wonder when the change from farmland Christian church to temple had occurred since the building obviously had been a simple community built church at some point.

  Of course the thoughts on this faded as he neared Burlington, his car forced to slow to a measly thirty miles an hour as he passed through the small little community.

  Blink and you might miss it, he had told his parents two years earlier when telling them about the drive between their Barrington home and his DeKalb dorm. And I once saw a horse hitched up at the gas station.

  No horse stood hitched up today as he drove by. He also didn’t have to wait for any chickens to cross the road from the nearby farm where they occasionally broke free. Because of this nothing but thoughts on Nikki filled his head as he got closer and closer to her place, images of her in one of the sexy outfits from the profile and ready for him forcing out the ones of him standing like a fool before her door.

  Behind him a car tried to kiss his bumper.

  Mark was already going fifteen over the speed limit on the twisty roads, his hands forced to grip the wheel tightly, yet the driver still wanted him to go faster. Instead, Mark took his foot off the gas and let the car slow as he came to another huge bend.

  Within seconds a horn was blasting at him as the car sped by in the oncoming traffic lane, and then cut across before the oncoming traffic caught up with him. Another couple of seconds and the road would probably have been shut down for hours as the police tried to separate the dead bodies from the wrecked cars.

  An NIU sticker was stuck to the back window.

  Figures, Mark said to himself. He then smiled as he thought about that winter, one which the weather people were saying would be incredibly snowy, and how he would probably see this car and a dozen others in the ditch when he drove home for the holidays. It never failed. The people he went to school with never could get it through their heads that the brand new modern cars their parents had given them still couldn’t drive in defiance of Mother Nature. It was great.

  Almost there, he told the excited part of his mind as the intersection of Plank Road and Route 23 appeared. It won’t be long before you know whether or not you’re finally going to ge
t to know what a warm pussy feels like around your pulsating cock.

  Not long before you start driving home again, Nikki’s laughter ringing in your ears as your pulsating cock shrivels from embarrassment.

  The second thought caused his fingers to tighten around the wheel as he came to a stop at the light. They did not loosen for ten minutes, not until he was sitting outside of Nikki’s place.

  He took several deep breaths before he stepped out of the car and walked up to the front door.

  7

  Kimberly paused as she dug through one of her few unpacked boxes that was sitting on the floor of the unused bedroom, and listened to see if someone actually was knocking on the door or if her mind had just played a trick on her.

  It took a second, but sure enough another knock echoed, the sound barely reaching her ear thanks to the TV that was still turned up so she could have sound filing her ears while needlessly going through the box (why she kept so many CDs when all her favorite songs were now saved on her phone puzzled her).

  Probably too loud for Bill, she thought (hoped?) as she pushed herself up from the floor and hurried to the door.

  It wasn’t Bill.

  Instead a peek through the window revealed the young man from the night before standing on the small concrete landing, his hands fidgeting as he waited, eyes looking down at his shoes.

  He didn’t notice her looking through the window.

  Why is he back? she demanded to herself while contemplating her next step.

  Open the door and ask him, a confident voice said.

  She considered this, but didn’t know if it truly was a good idea.

  Do it, but unlock the door to Bill’s apartment so he can help you if needed.

  The suggestion emboldened her and she quickly flipped the lock to the open position on the stairway door and then opened the front door, the force of which startled the young man.

  “Yes?” she asked, arms quickly crossing over her chest.

  “Um, hello again,” he said.

  “Hello,” she replied. “What are you doing here?”

  His smile faded a bit. “I thought . . . I thought this time you would . . .” he shook his head.

  “Thought what?” she asked, her confidence at her own power within this situation growing.

  “You told me I might have a chance if I didn’t bring the flowers this time because you weren’t a flower type of girl,” he said. “But I suppose the idea that you would want to see me if I didn’t bring flowers today was still just wishful thinking on my part.”

  “Who told you this?” she demanded.

  Suspicion unfolded in his eyes.

  “I’m not her,” she added. “Honest.”

  “You didn’t email me last night and tell me that the reason you decided not to see me was because I had brought flowers?” he asked.

  “No, I didn’t,” she said, then, after some hesitation, “were you the one that left a bunch of pictures with slut and whore written on the back on my window last night?”

  “What?” he asked. “No!”

  The disbelief that appeared on his face was genuine. Or he is a really good actor.

  She waited.

  He didn’t say anything for several seconds.

  A part of her wanted to tell him to get lost so she could close the door, but another wanted to know who had told him she really was the girl he was looking for. Had he not seemed so innocent and gentle this second course of action would never have been contemplated. “Who keeps telling you I’m this girl?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I promise I won’t bother you again.”

  “Wait,” she said as he turned to leave.

  The young man stopped; a hopeful look suddenly on his face.

  “Where do you keep hearing that I’m this girl, this Nikki?” she asked.

  “Um . . . online,” he said, face turning red.

  She gave a go on look, one that was emphasized with a give me more motion of her hands.

  His face got even redder. “The OK Cupid dating site,” he said.

  “OK Cupid?” she asked. It was one she had never heard of before.

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “A girl on that site who I’ve been talking too for quite a while says that she lives here and told me the reason she didn’t want to see me last night was because of the flowers.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why would she keep telling you she lives here?”

  “I wish I knew.” A small hint of accusation was present in his voice.

  “It’s not me,” she said. “I’m being perfectly honest with you. I don’t use dating sites and even if I did I would never give out my address to anyone without first meeting them somewhere in public.”

  He shrugged.

  Something he had said a moment earlier suddenly caused a chill to caress her bowels. “Did you tell this person online that you brought flowers?”

  “No, and that’s why I figured it really was you when she told me the flowers were the reason she didn’t want to see me.”

  “But that means -- ” she started, but couldn’t finish.

  “ -- that she’s watching,” he completed with a nod and a quick glance toward the road. “Or at least she was watching last night.”

  Kimberly crossed her arms again, only this time it wasn’t so she would look confident. “Why?”

  “Probably because she gets off on making guys like me look like fools,” he said, his eyes continuing to scan the cars parked on South Avenue.

  Kimberly followed his study of the cars on the street to see if anyone was watching, her hope being he was right and that it was his foolishness that was the appeal. Unfortunately the pictures last night made her think it probably had more to do with her than him.

  But why? she demanded to herself. It was a question she would probably be growing familiar with in the days to come, unless, of course, the person behind this did something to reveal themselves. If not she would . . .

  “Hey, what was the girl’s profile name on this, what was it, OK Cupid?” Kimberly asked.

  “NIU Nikki,” he said.

  “NIU Nikki,” she repeated. “As in Northern Illinois University?”

  “Yeah, and there is a bottom line dash thingy between the NIU and NIKKI.”

  “So she claims to be a college student,” Kimberly noted. “How long have you been talking to her?”

  “Since the spring,” he said.

  “Really? Has she been telling you this was her address the entire time?” If so then maybe she wasn’t the one that was being targeted in this strange series of events.

  “Oh, no,” he said with a shake of the head. “I only learned her address the other day, once she came back online. Before that she always hinted at wanting to meet but never really provided that final bit of necessary information.”

  Yet you kept talking to her week after week, Kimberly thought. But then, you kept going out with Kyle week after week, followed. Then, Is it Kyle?

  “In fact,” he continued, his voice pulling her back from the thoughts of Kyle. “I started to wonder if she was real, or just one of those girls who works for the site to keep guys like me paying members -- this was when she had the Adult Friend Finder profile -- but then she popped up on OK Cupid which is free so . . .” he left it at that.

  An idea appeared in her head. “Hey, do you think you could do me a favor?

  “What?”

  “If I gave you my email address could you talk to this girl and find out how long she claims to have lived here?”

  “Um . . . I suppose,” he said after some thought. He then asked, “Why?”

  “Because I moved in on the first of this month, you know, to start school out here, so if she claims to have lived her for as long as she has been talking to you then it will be a huge lie, one that you can maybe tell to the people who run the site so they take down her profile or something. And then, after that, you can email me and let me know what’s goin
g on and everything.”

  “I see, and you know, you could always set up a profile and talk to her and see what she tells you,” he suggested.

  “Oh, is she bi?” Kimberly asked.

  “Actually, yeah . . . well, she claims to be. But I was thinking you could set it up as, you know, a guy and see if she tells you to meet here. Then you could also tell the administrators of the site what she is doing.”

  “I see, but couldn’t I get in trouble for putting up a fake profile?”

  “They’ll just kick you off the site and if you don’t use dating sites anyway what’s the problem?”

  “Oh, good point.”

  He gave her a brief smile.

  Silence followed.

  “So,” he said after several seconds. “You’re a student at Northern?”

  “Yeah,” she confirmed. “Start on Monday.”

  “First year here?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He nodded. “This’ll be my junior year. I’ll be moving back to the area in September and was thinking, instead of just giving you email updates I could, well, we could get together somewhere and I’ll tell you what’s going on that way.”

  “Oh . . . I . . . hmmm, I suppose that will work,” she said.

  “Great. How about I swing by after classes on Monday and we can go from there.”

  “Okay.”

  He smiled. “And if anything major happens in the next day or two that you need to know about I’ll swing by then. My parents place is in Barrington, so it isn’t too terrible a drive. We could get lunch or something.”

  “Okay,” she said again. A realization struck. Is he trying to work his way into a relationship type of situation with me?

  “Well, I guess I’ll see you on Monday then,” he said. “And, sorry for all the confusion last night and today. Hopefully we get this all straightened out.”

  “Hopefully,” she agreed.

  He waited for more and then started down the steps, a slight wave signaling his departure.