by Jay Kerk
“Yeah, I did it,” Laurie said. “No, you’re a slut. Hahaha.”
I guessed she was speaking to Manuela—Manny—a close friend in a nearby city. They talked every two days.
“How do you think it went?… No, I didn’t come. How could I? He’s a fat pig.” She said. “Yeah, yeah.” She added. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I? Like another bad Tinder date, but at least I benefited from it. Uh-huh.… Yeah, average size. Or no, actually, big but he couldn’t get it up all the way.… Yeah, right? Next time I’ll tell him, Please, sir, take your pill before you hump.” She laughed.
Now I must put microphones in her handbags. Apparently, I was missing out on action outside the apartment. I wanted to know what she thought.
“Doesn’t matter, bitch. Now I don’t even have to go to his class.… Yeah, love you too. Byeee.” She hung up.
I was sure she was the one.
A few minutes after the call, she entered the bathroom. I heard the sound of the water change when she stepped under it.
I got out from under the bed. I stood with my back to the wall next to the bathroom door and peeked in; she was rinsing her hair. That was the closest I had been to her. I wanted to hold her.
An idea occurred to me.
I made a noise in the living room, left the place in a hurry, and left the door open.
“Hello? Anyone there?” Laurie shouted. “Get out before I call the cops!”
I hope it works. Come on, come on.
My phone rang. I was so happy to see her name on the screen, and I assured her I’d be there right away and that her security was of the utmost importance. I searched the apartment looking for the perpetrator. “All clear!” and returned to the room. She told me what happened, and I explained to her it could have been one of a few scenarios.
It could have been a disgruntled boyfriend who copied her key and wanted to sneak in on her. She said she didn’t have a boyfriend, but we both knew I meant the many people who slept over. Or maybe she’d forgotten to shut the door, and someone had heard the shower and seen an opportunity to look at a naked neighbor. She agreed it was possible. I told her she could blame no one because she was a very attractive woman and she had left the door open.
We agreed that she should secure the door with the chain whenever she was home. I told her she should contact me anytime if something scared her, even at night. I made her promise, and I left feeling satisfied.
CHAPTER 5:
COURAGE
Her words stuck with me: “Give me your best.” I wanted to give her my best. Although against my protocols, I created an online dating profile to search for her. Maybe we would match up. I didn’t approve of the worldwide web communication in any form, on any platform, because of security concerns. Even when I worked on the dark web, I had to discern where I conducted my business.
I wondered what I would do next—invite her in or ask her out. I struggled to write a description of myself and ended up writing about exercise, watching movies, loving animals... Most of it I copied from other people’s profiles. Running on the beach, the sand tickling my feet. Worthless shits.
I kept scrolling and swiping, and ultimately, I found her. No action yet. I must learn how this platform worked before taking any action. How we described ourselves and how we were in real life were often very different. Her profile spoke truthfully about her. She wrote a few sentences about what she wanted:
I’m all about the fun, about the fun. Not serious.
I want the party and the Netflix chill. Down for all.
Think twice about your opener and leave me alone when I ask you to. Plllllleasssseeee.
After some time, although still early in the morning, I swiped to match and waited. She had to do the same for me and then we could talk. I could strike up a conversation before she swiped, but I might seem too desperate.
A few hours passed with nothing from her. I kept checking to see if she went online. A green dot appeared next to her image when she did. She stayed for an hour, went off, then came back on for an hour. And nothing for me. She came home again around lunchtime.
I sent her a super like, and after an hour I bought more and sent her a couple. Still, nothing. I waited in anger. She made a couple of calls—irrelevant. She phoned her mom to tell her she wasn’t coming home this weekend; she had midterms. There were no midterms at this time.
The bitch had snubbed me. I was mad, so mad I could’ve punched her if I’d seen her. My watch showed 5 p.m., and still nothing.
She was texting someone, and she got mad gradually, afterward she threw the phone and yelled into her pillow. She paced the room and made another call.
“Jenny. Don’t lie to me. Please don’t lie,” she said. “Is Chris going out with someone?… I know I wanted our relationship to be like this, but still, he’s ditching me! He said he won’t come over tonight, he has a party. And he didn’t even ask me to come with him.”
Chris was a regular, possibly a semi-boyfriend.
“I won’t go. I don’t want to run into him, like, alone. It’s too desperate. Are you going?… Look for him and text me. If he’s alone, I’ll come… Love you, too.”
I put on a yellow shirt. I looked good in yellow. I wished there was a way to hear all her conversations and see all her text messages. I felt optimistic about her possible breakup with Chris, so I decided to start a conversation.
I typed: “Hey there, gorgeous. I always wonder what you’re up to. Let’s binge on movies or chemicals tonight.” And send.
I buttoned up my shirt, thinking of a response like, “Anytime is okay with me. You want to hook up now?”
I checked the cameras. She had put on a porn movie and gave herself a go with the vibrator on the couch. A few stains already ruined the couch.
I looked at the phone; she’d seen my message. She finished and muttered, “Fuck you, Chris. Don’t need your ass.”
I typed a new message: “A coffee would do. We can chat as well.”
A few minutes passed. She saw the message and still didn’t reply. I was furious. I sent another one. “Whatever you want. I promise you we’d have a wonderful time.”
This time I caught her reaction as she read it: she rolled her eyes.
I was crouching on the stairs to her apartment. I had an urge to enter and slap her face. I wondered why she would treat me like this.
After an hour I decided to get two to-go coffees and knock on her door. Yeah, fuck it. Luck favors the bold. I had seen her coming four times in a day, alone sometimes, other times with two different guys. So, I wouldn’t be a burden. I couldn’t let a person with a drive like me get away. She was one of a kind, and I loved her.
She opened the door while chewing on a slice of cold pizza. She was wearing the same cotton shirt I’d seen on the video stream, and she hadn’t bothered to put on some pants or shorts. I didn’t need to wonder what was under the shirt. Thanks to the cameras, I knew she was wearing a thong. Her nipples protruded out without the restraint of a bra.
“If you won’t go for coffee, the coffee will come to you,” I smiled. “Can I come in?”
She looked cleaner on the screen. I hated acting on impulse, but love made me blind.
“I saw your messages. You know, you should give people some time to answer.”
“Let’s chat.” I gestured my hand to enter, and she agreed. I felt so much lust for her; I could have jumped on her.
She muted the TV. She’d been watching reruns. “Okay, but like, this is your chance. Show me what you’ve got, Mr. Handy Man. Here goes your date.” She sighed and rested on the couch.
I laughed, but I sounded fake. I cleared my throat to use my deep voice.
“Well,” I said, “we are different, but different works. I feel like I know you. Actually, understand you is more accurate. You’re wild and hyperactive, and you have big dreams.”
“Not bad,” she said. “Go on.”
She truly was a bitch.
“You don’t want to be tied up at this stage o
f your life—not that you’d mind a naughty tying up once in a while. You must stay a free bird. All I want is to spend some good times with you. Keep it casual.”
“Won’t work between us,” she said. She took her phone out and leaned back on the couch, sighing. She was showing me her disinterest. She was probably texting Jenny or whoever to tell them Guess what the creepy handyman just did. Lol omg.
“Why? Hmm?” I asked.
“You’re the clingy type, and you do this with every girl who moves in.”
“I’m not the clingy type,” I told her. “And no, I’ve never done this. But you’ve got this energy in you—it radiates. You’re brilliant, but as well as you take care of your mind, you take care of your body even better. The body has its needs. Its… maintenance, right?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Thanks for the coffee, though,” she said.
I didn’t have much time left. She might have heard all of that before. I needed to change my approach.
“If we were in a club, and we’d just had a couple vodkas, and you saw me, you’d be attracted to me, right? No doubt, I’m physically your type. And I can teach you one or two things. You’re someone who isn’t shy about saying I need a dick today, out loud or to someone. And you want to look back later in life and say, ‘I slept with all kinds of men,’ and have no regrets. And I’m that kinda man, not your sixty-year-old pig.”
I’d heard her say she wanted a dick on a specific night or she would die. But the pig example was too close to Mr. Frekampt.
She said nothing. I thought she was on the verge of kicking me out. Her face didn’t change.
I said, “Okay, I and my nine inches will be waiting if you ever need me. Text me.” I stood up, game over. What a cheap thing to say. And by the way, my penis isn’t anything near nine inches, but you know.
I wondered whether I should offer her some money, or a break on her rent. Worth the risk, but after standing for a couple of seconds, I moved toward the door.
“Nine inches? Bullshit. Show me.”
I turned. “Really?” I said.
“Come on, don’t be shy. Let the snake out.” She flailed her hands.
“I’ll show you if you show me.” I unzipped.
“We’ll see,” she said as I moved closer to the couch. “Oh, that is nice. Hard. I’ll blow you, no sex. I’ll need dinner before that.”
Laurie was a great gal. I obsessed over her. I respected how open and comfortable she was with her drive. Even I, wasn’t this active at her age.
I texted her and called her many times, but she didn’t reply. Over the next three weeks, nothing changed in her routine. I was getting crazier over her by the day. When I followed her, I waited outside classrooms like some lonely loser.
She invited many guys up in her place, and I was so jealous. One time I pressed the fire alarm, and they evacuated the building, and afterward, she returned with him as if nothing had happened.
I entered the apartment a few times when she was asleep, just to see her. I stood in front of the couch where we’d had a good time. Too bad. We could have had something sweet.
I was lost. I wanted to win her over so badly. Otherwise, I’d have to leave, or she’d have to leave.
I ain’t going nowhere.
I could potentially take her against her will.
CHAPTER 6:
ENKIDU
I suffered because of Laurie, and I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact of her snubbing me as she did and throwing herself into the hands of worthless men. Did she not know what kind of people she was meeting online? And as much as I admired her body, she took a lot of pictures, and she posted more than I liked her to. I bet she also had no clue about identity theft.
Dr-Anna45 thought we had become friends. She accepted my flaws and had faith I could change. Along the way, she said I was changing. She said, “We can be friends,” and I wanted to take advantage of her change of heart to get my revenge soon.
I woke up before dawn, as usual, reorganized my folders and watched some great moments. Some were mine, and friends on the dark web had shared others. I made a quick trip to the apartment where I kept the main backup storage and added the new recordings.
As I drove back home, the sun came out, and a brilliant light filled the skies. The cold breeze coming in through the window bumped me better than any coffee could. I decided to tell Dr-Anna45 about my first relationship. She would think the story was part of the changing process, but my first relationship stood as a point of pride for me because of my young age, something that should be normal for humans but sadly not the case.
In the basement, I checked up on my friends. Safe and secure in the fridge.
I sat back down at my laptop, logged in, and waited for her.
Incoming sound. A message from Dr-Anna45: “Morning.”
“Hi. What took you so long?” I replied.
Dr-Anna45: “I just opened my eyes, and I’m still having my coffee. What about you?”
“I have been up for few hours, had some errands to run. You know, the hard drives, the 48-hour updates.” Yeah, I had told her that. No harm in it.
Dr-Anna45: “What time is it now?”
“I can’t tell you the time. Duhhh,” I said. Sharing the time might help her locate me. Trying to outsmart me, you devil.
Dr-Anna45: “I thought we were past that, but anyhow your call.” A weird and new smiling face emoji. “Have you considered the offer?”
“Yeah, I know, but still, old habits die hard. Anyway, I have some juice for you.” The offer was mainly that if I shared my early relationship experiences, she would share something of equal value, not yet determined.
Dr-Anna45: “Cool, spill it. But I haven’t decided what I’ll tell you in return. Maybe when you’re done, I’ll know what to share.”
“Okay. So, I was eleven and about to turn twelve in a few months, and I hooked up with a neighbor on the corner of the block called Ms. Margaret.” I could see her typing before I finished the sentence.
Dr-Anna45: “Age, marital status, living alone, description?” With a nerd emoji.
“She was in her forties, single and living alone.” I hit send and continued. “I remember she was very kind, and beautiful. A bit busty, and full, with the deep voice of a heavy smoker. She used to wear a long skirt with a tucked-in shirt with a few open buttons. And she always wore a wool or cotton fleece on top.”
Dr-Anna45: “What did she do for a living and how did you meet her?”
“I don’t remember her work exactly, possibly something like a librarian or a bookstore clerk. I remember she punched the clock from eight to two.”
Dr-Anna45: “How did you meet? Do you think she targeted you for a particular reason?”
“Chill. Why do you always want to label things?” I sent an angry face. “I’m sharing with you something intimate, my first one, so enjoy the story for once without having to analyze it.”
Dr-Anna45: “Sorry. Old habits...”
“One time on my way back from school during the springtime, the weather was nice, and she was standing outside on the lawn watering the plants. She said ‘Young man, are you interested in earning some money for hard but simple work?’ And I said sure. She asked me to return in a couple hours if my mom agreed that I could help her move some boxes and clean some rooms.”
Dr-Anna45: “I’m with you. Continue at your pace.”
“So I came back. We moved some boxes and cleaned some rooms, and I earned eight dollars, a good amount back then. Before I left, she said I could come by on Saturday at noon because she’d be arranging the kitchen.”
Dr-Anna45: “And your mom okay with you going? And nothing happened in those early visits?”
“Mom had different priorities because of the situation with my dad. I’ll tell you later. In brief, I don’t think she minded anyone taking me off her hands. And Ms. Margaret was a well-respected person in the neighborhood, so no problems.” I hit send.
“Nothing happened during the first vi
sit, but I stared at her boobs a lot. With a few shirt buttons open, the sight was pleasant for me. She said ‘Young man, you stare at my breasts a lot. I worry you’ll grab them.’”
Dr-Anna45: “What did you do or say to her?”
“Nothing. I stared at the floor and waited for the right moment, when she kneeled down, to get a good look. I used to have an erection for hours. A bit painful. I would kill for such erections now.”
Dr-Anna45: “What happened on Saturday?”
“I knocked on her door, and when she opened it, she was wearing an old bra over her pajama pants. And the bra was a horrendous old one, looked like a vest. But for me, back in the days, this was action, hot action. I remember how I jolted when she opened the door, and I couldn’t stop myself from saying, ‘Wow.’ To HER FACE.” I sent that part to Dr-Anna45 with multiple tear-rolling, laughing faces.
Dr-Anna45: “Hehehhehe.”
“I followed her in, and she said ‘You have an attitude of a man but you ain’t a man yet, boy.’ And I replied to her, ‘I’m a man, Ms. Margaret. My mustache has grown in.’ My mustache was basically twelve hairs. And she said, ‘We’ll see about that.’”
Dr-Anna45: “Mr. Know-It-All.”
“Thinking about her excited me. I got accustomed to her smell—perfume, smoke, and sweat. As we finished the kitchen, I wondered what I could do to get her attention, how I could get to kiss her. And if she agreed, how would I kiss her given she was much taller than I was. I surrendered not knowing what to do, I planned to sneak a peek under her skirt the next time she wore one.”
A minute passed, and I didn’t type a word. I traveled back in memories of how gracious of her to it was to consider me, to select me from among all the boys.
Dr-Anna45: “Where are you? Still on?”
“Yes. Flashbacks. I drifted.”
Dr-Anna45: “So what happened? Was she in the bra the whole time?”
“She asked me to follow her to the living room. No, she put on a cotton shirt. She lay down and put her feet up, and she asked me to rub her feet.” Sent.
