Anji closes her browser window and locks the computer with a deep breath, the machinery in her head, epecially the primitive systems, throwing small charges. The size and shape of her body are defined in her awareness now by the stimulating hormones being produced in those systems, a delicious cocktail thats pumping down into her breasts and causing her nipples to harden, and slipping across the inside of the skin of her belly to her pussy, making it warm and quietly ache for attention.
The house is silent save the buzzing of summer insects riding the slow breeze through a screen door. She thinks about his message, bites her lip, and moves with the neutrality of nobody watching to the bedroom, where she pulls a pink dildo from the small wooden box hidden beneath a pile of panties. She lies down in the velvety folds of the bedcovers, trying not to let the artificiality of pink plastic stimulation bother.
She unfastens her jeans and slides them down tanned, muscled thighs to her knees, which she spreads, and she pulls her shirt up to give the humid air access to her breasts. Feels more real this way, whether or not anybody was taking notes. The dildo is hard and cool to the touch, but feels good when she rubs the "head" slowly against her clit, and then follows the line of her pussy lips to where it recedes inside of her. She's closed her eyes.
In her mind she replays a visit:
She'd walked far enough through the streets and neighborhoods of Niville that by the time she finally stopped her thigh muscles continued jerking hastily, but it was her stomach's nervous pangs that Anji couldn't ignore. Across the street stood the house she held in memory; disconcertingly solid, well-kept, and possibly occupied. She knocked...no answer. Wrestling mixed feelings of relief and frustration, she sat on the steps and waited, staring at her tired sneakers. He got back late. The heavy clouds drowned the stars but the precipitous drop in temperature had raised the hair on her arms and crystallized her rapid breaths. William looked confused for a moment when he saw her in the dim street-lamp light but recovered quickly and invited her in. His house was warm and comfortable. He offered a drink as he poured one for himself, and Anji accepted and nursed the whiskey as she talked.
The explanation told itself simply and well. She'd broken up with a unhappy man who was now staking out her house to such a degree that she felt uncomfortable sleeping there. Usually she could brush off the paranoia long enough to grab a few hours rest, but he'd left a disturbing message on her cell this afternoon. She'd just recently moved from Florida and hadn't made many friends yet, and her car was on its last legs from the couple thousand mile drive. Would he mind if she stayed at his place for a few days?
William was an easy-going sort of man with charmingly boyish features and intelligent blue eyes. He said she could stay as long as she needed to while his wife was out of town on vacation. When she came back though, Anji would have to find another way to deal with her ex...like maybe the police. Anji thanked him and promised to help out with meals and housework while she was there. They both sat in the living room catching up and had several more glasses of whiskey as the moon inched silently overhead. When it became clear that Anji was struggling to hold her head up, William suggested it was time for bed.
