Sugar Daddy Season (ONC 2024)

Chapter 8.5 ~ HIM

                This game that we play, where you have no idea that I’m in the same room as you, has become my favorite hobby. Like most women, you’re too trusting and too stubborn with your independence to pay attention to the dangers standing a few feet over.

That’s why it’s so easy to get away with murder. 

The city’s ambiance helps as well. Some streets are so dark that natural moonlight can’t even compete with it, which is perfect for dragging a woman into an alleyway, unnoticed. You should be more cautious, Mara. Instead, you walk the dark streets fiddling with your phone when you should be looking for predators like me.

What tickles me most is I’ve memorized your routine, and have broken some of the street lights along the way, preparing myself to snatch you one day. 

People should really switch up their routes. 

They become so accustomed to the comfort of always driving the same roads, always walking the same path, and don’t understand how much they’re helping stalkers like me get to know them.

And you’re so predictable, Mara.

Messy and predictable.

Tonight, you sulk at the movie theater while your little Indian friend snuggles with her boyfriend a few seats over. It’s entertaining how every once in a while you’ll sneak a glance at them in their happy bubble of love, then crinkle your adorable brows, and stuff more popcorn into your mouth. You wish it were you, but you’re so messy you don’t even know which suiter you prefer. 

Young. Old. 

Make up your mind.

The upside is you’re not completely indecisive. While in line for snacks, you knew exactly what you wanted when the pimple-faced teenager behind the counter asked. It was popcorn with extra butter, a side of nachos with jalapeños, thin mints, nerds, a Coke, and bottled water, which is impressive considering you ate the entire plate of enchiladas at dinner. I have no idea how you’re not an obese oinker with all of this food you stuff down your throat.

I almost chortled while standing behind you in line, imagining you as an extremely plump ballerina and your partner struggling to hoist you into the air, his neck veins bulging from the strain.

Thankfully you’re not a fat little whale. No, you’re a petite woman, and somehow all that food you stuff into your mouth magically goes to the right places, like your hips and that bubbly butt I love to stare at when you dance at Penthouse. 

Later tonight, when you think you’re safe in your bedroom, and stripping off your clothes to get ready for bed, I’ll be outside in the bushes, waiting for that glorious moment when you remove your panties and bend to slide them off your worn-out legs. 

It’s my favorite part.

In fact, I’m already turned on just thinking about it.

You should consider getting better curtains or blinds, but then I wouldn’t have such a great view into the privacy of your room. 

Have your neighbors inquired about their lost dog yet? 

I couldn’t afford to have it yap at me every time I hop the fence, but I’m not heartless, Mara. I buried the mutt a few blocks away and said some nice words. 

However, when I take your life, you won’t be buried. No, I want the moonlight to bathe your body as your blood runs cold, and for the sun to bake your skin until someone finds the beautiful mess I’ve left you in.

It’s getting closer, Mara.

One of these days I will emerge from the shadows and pounce.