Page 100 of Stalker

Or the darkness she was sliding into.

The masks then had been cheap, purchased at a local five and dime, the lingerie the same. Yet the smile on my face was telling.

I’d been thrilled to find an outlet for intense cravings I’d had since I could remember.

I almost shut the damn thing off, but kept going, flipping through several others until I came to the last video I’d posted only a few days before. The difference was astounding.

With the wineglass in my hand, I began to delete the videos one at a time. There was a strange feeling of death in performing the action, a horrible sense that I was losing a part of myself.

Only minutes later, I was close to ending my second illustrious career when a brief sound caught my attention. I glanced toward the bottom right corner of the screen.

I’d been sent a message.

Both eagerness and apprehension stilled my system, even catching my breath. Other than in the beginning of my journey with the website, I hadn’t allowed myself to stay online long enough to have conversations. It hadn’t mattered they were anonymous or that chatting would produce additional sales. That had been deemed too personal.

Too obtrusive.

Since nothing had changed, why was it that I found myself rereading the message more than once?

You’re so beautiful in your videos. You remind me of a colorful butterfly on a spring day.

The name on the screen wasThe Stalker.

I was instantly on edge, pulling away as the words settled in.

A butterfly.

As a slight chill formed in my hands first, followed by my feet, I realized it was possible the person sitting at another computer in an unknown destination was Wilder.

For some reason, I glanced around the room, goosebumps popping down my arms.

There was no one close, no shadows indicating a hidden guest. I was certain of it, yet I still had the feeling of being watched.

Leaning forward, I held my hand over the keyboard, loathing how much the message had affected me.

Answer? Don’t answer?

I had mixed feelings, but my usual curious self refused to ignore the message.

Thank you. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?

Do I really need to tell you?

Yes, you do. I like knowing who I’m playing with.I was surprised I was being flirtatious.

My screen name should tell you everything you need to know. I rid the world of unwanted souls, those who don’t deserve to walk the earth.

I shrank back even more. The person on the other end had to be Wilder. A rush of warmth pooled between my legs. I was about ready to respond when my sixth sense told me something was off. Why would a man like Wilder Blackwell play this kind of game? Besides, how had he learned I had an account on Sugar Babies?

The cold chill swept into other parts of my body. I suddenly didn’t like this at all. Was this David trying to lure me into something even more scandalous? But why the odd nickname?

I’m sorry, but I was just about to retreat to my boudoir for the evening. Perhaps we’ll talk again.

His answer came quickly.

Dance for me. Show me just how beautiful you really are.

I licked my lips, glancing at the window as if I expected to see Wilder’s face peering in. There was nothing but a slight glow from a streetlight yards away from my front door.

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