Page 4 of Masked March

Where did you meet such an ancient flame?

In the place where a curtain of pink protects your name.

What an absolutely bizarre message! What is this person talking about? Holding the card, I look for any other clues inside the envelope, but there are none. How did the person get in here? With the groceries?

Still pondering the millions of questions racing through my brain, I fumble through my morning routine. When I glance at the phone again, I toss it on the bed and hurry.

“Fuck! I’m so late.”

My fingers grip the handle of my lingerie drawer and then I pause with my hand covering my gasping mouth. There’s only one pair of my thongs left in the drawer. And when I hold them up…

A crusty white substance covers the crotch of the panties. One sniff lets me know exactly what it is.

“Gross!”

Quickly, I drop the fabric to the floor and look for another pair anywhere. The hamper, the other drawers, the trash bin… I havenounderwear left. And I’m almost ten minutes late, which means?—

My phone blares its first ring of the morning.

Not even checking the screen, I heave in a deep breath and answer. “Yes?”

“Where the fuck are you?” Jake snaps through the phone.

“I’m on my way now. Be there in fifteen.” I hang up, knowing it will take me thirty, but he can wait. Useless Dustin can get his coffee for once.

With a heavy sigh, I place my hands on my hips and glance around my room. Guess I’m going commando today. I throw on some slacks and hurriedly dress before heading out the door, tucking the envelope into my work bag.

I’m not surewhatto think of the condition of my panties. It’s sad I have to ask, but I need to know… Whose cum was it?

The question makes my stomach roll with nausea. As I rush into the building, I get a flash of my fantasy last night, of the feeling that a masked man was standing at the foot of my bed pleasuring himself while watching me.

What if it wasn’t a fantasy?

“Finally decided to show up to work, Mel?” Jake shuffles some files on his desk, giving me a stern look. “What the fuck are you wearing today?”

I glance down at my outfit, black slacks, but an obnoxiously colored silk blouse I bought for a Halloween costume one year. No underwear and, oh. Mismatched shoes.

Jake leans back and strokes the stubble on his chin with a sly grin. “Who’s the new guy?”

Pretending like this was all planned, I smooth out a few wrinkles on my waist and shrug. “What?”

“Obviously you got out of bed in a hurry. The pristine Mel never looks like this and the last two days you’ve looked askew, to be polite about it.”

He’s always curt, but today he seems excessively sassy. “My personal life is none of your business. Did you order me groceries?”

His eyes grow wide as he stares at me. “Uh, no. How about you take off early today and buy yourself something lesscolorful? I know I pay you better than this.” With a wave of his palm up and down my figure, he grows a look of disgust. Anger floods my face until it burns hot.

“You know what, Jake? Iwilltake today off.” With a spin on one of my heels, I almost trip out the door, but flip around just to flick him off and say, “Have fun getting your own lunch and writing your own emails, asshole!”

Rage makes me shake all over and Dustin’s little boy scared face makes me want to punch it. Instead, I knock over his pencil cup, spilling them all over the floor. As I exit the corner office, I slam the door.

I don’t care if I get fired. I do everything around here and for what? To get reamed about my clothes?

Clothes someone may havecomein?

Back in my car, I bang my head against the seat back, feeling guilty for my outburst. It brings me straight back to my younger years when my temper was something of legend.No onein Crystal Frond High wanted to mess with me, Mel the Mean Girl. Ithrivedon other’s fear of me. Walking down the halls watching freshman skirt out of my way made me feel powerful.

So now, as an adult, having to hold back for people like Jake Connor only makes it worse. Mel the Reaper comes out when I least want her to. Maybe I should march back in and apologize. Ugh! I can’t do it, though. His smug face would make me throw something andreallyget myself in trouble.

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