“Police say the man attacked a couple in their Rancho Sol home,” a reporter says. Rancho Sol is a subdivision, not twenty minutes away from here by car.
The image zooms out so it’s hovering over the shoulder of the reporter, with the words “The Night Prowler.” I fixate on the image. There have been a rash of break-ins all over Sacramento County. It’s one of the reasons why Carter insists on staying with me when I am babysitting Johnny alone. But Carter won’t be able to come over until much later tonight. I look over to the picture window that faces the main street and wonder what I would do if on the other side of the blinds was that masked face staring back at me. The cozy feeling of holding a fresh bowl of popcorn in the comfort of my home is overcome with the insecurity of the unknown.
The doorbell rings. The popcorn flies out of my arms and I fumble with it, saving it from tipping over, but not before making a small mess.
I tiptoe to the window, peer through the shades and am surprised to see Carter is here earlier than I had anticipated. I let out sigh of relief, placing the bowl on the coffee table, and open the door with a wide smile on my face.
“You're early!”
“I thought I'd surprise you.” He gives me a soft peck on the lips that turns into something more, but then he stops himself and looks over my shoulder.
“Don't worry, he's in bed,” I whisper mischievously.
“So does that mean we can go to bed?” he asks, pushing into the house with my body laced in his arms so that the door shuts behind him.
“I suppose so,” I tease.
Carter locks the door behind him, still pressing his lips to mine, and picks me up by my butt. “That feels niiiice,” he mutters against my lips as he leads me to my bedroom.
I pull away and press my finger against his lips. If Johnny wakes up, it'll be a bear to get him back in bed.
“It's like we already have kids,” he whispers, nine-tenths jokingly, one-tenth annoyed.
Carter lowers me to my feet and pulls off his shirt. He is a catch: kind, loyal, a med student. Oh— and tall, blond, with honest brown eyes and a jawline most models would covet. We've been together for over three years. He was my first serious boyfriend. First everything to be honest.
I slide my tank dress to the floor, leaving myself naked besides my panties. He kisses me and sits on the bed, pulling me towards him by my fingertips.
The room is dark, but the light from the living room beaming into my bedroom is enough to illuminate him. His tousled blond hair and warm eyes glitter as they reflect the light. His long, lean limbs glimmer in the dark. He's everything I should want. He's everything I do want. But though I am going through the motions, nothing stirs inside of me. It's always the same. And for a while that was enough, but I have found myself wondering about more. Wondering about what it would be like to be with someone different. Someone who wasn't so safe.
Carter is hot cocoa with marshmallows. Sometimes I wish he'd be a shot of absinthe.
But I love him. And he is everything I could ever want. This is just a lull. So, I go with the routine, sliding my panties to the floor and mounting him.
“Mmmm, Vesper,” he groans as I rub myself against him. I'm not wet, so I can't slide onto him. I keep kissing him, faking passion in hope things will turn. That his kiss, like a flame to gasoline, will light me up, but nothing sparks. I feel safe. I feel secure in arms. But today, I can't feel aroused.
I kiss Carter's neck, closing my eyes to imagine the ones I saw at the library. Imagining him coming into the restaurant where I work a few nights a week. It's empty, so most of the lights are off. I can barely make him out, but those eyes tell me everything I need to know. I tell him I'm about to close up. He says he just wants a piece of pie. I relent. I go behind the counter and turn away from him to reach into the pie case. Then I feel his breath on my neck. I startle, but I don't scream.
“Don't turn around,” he rasps, reaching his right hand down my thigh, sliding it up and lifting my skirt. He pulls my panties to the side as his other hand reaches up and grips my neck.
“Don't say a word,” he whispers, clenching his fingers around my airway. He tugs my underwear down roughly, so that it rests halfway down my thighs, and then he pushes his way into me. I'm wet. So wet. And I let him pump into me. Dark. Dirty. Forbidden. A secret I will keep from my family. I'll tell myself it's fear that keeps me quiet. But it's because I didn't fight. I let him take me. He smelled the need, like an animal sniffing out prey, and he pounced.
As the stranger grunts into my ear, I tighten around his thickness. A swelling in my belly overwhelms me, taking my breath away.