The peace I’d found in the bath is now a distant memory. I’m standing in the center of my rundown apartment, dripping wet, with nothing but a threadbare towel for cover.
The experience was so vivid, so intense, that my heart is still racing. I glance down at my hands. The marks from the sharp edge of the tub are etched into my fingers, confirming that at least part of what happened was real.
I touch my still-throbbing pussy. My clit is swollen, and my juices are trickling down my thighs.
I try to rationalize what just happened, but my mind is a blank slate. I shake my head, deciding that I must have dozed off and had some kind of orgasmic dream.
Nothing else makes sense.
My phone is buzzing in my bag. I fish it out to see a text from my boss.
I grab a clean shirt and a pair of black slacks and head back into the bathroom. The small-sized shirts that fit snugly around my waist and over my shoulders can’t accommodate my boobs, so I have to wear a medium to avoid looking like a hooker.
I pull my curly hair up into a messy bun. It doesn’t look too bad, though I know it’s not quite up to the high standards of Hotel Lamia. But hey, you get what you pay for. This is what they get for calling me in on such short notice.
I spare a minute to dab some concealer under my tired eyes and apply a fresh coat of mascara.
I’m rushing toward the alley, but as soon as I round the corner, my body freezes, as if something is holding me back. A sense of unease twists my gut.
I look around, but everything seems normal. Why do I feel like this? There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m not a timid person. I’ve got more guts than most men. But something deep inside me is trying to send a message.
The alley is eerily quiet and empty. Not a single rat in sight, and there are always rats rummaging through the trash cans.
The silence is unnerving. That must be it. The silence is making me anxious.
I push the feeling aside and sprint the short distance to the employee entrance. As I burst through the door, I collide with Rob.
“Finally!” he exclaims. I raise an eyebrow at him as I tap my wristwatch.
“You texted me seven minutes ago,” I retort, annoyed.
“Oh! Anyway! There’s a big company dinner in the banquet hall in an hour, and everyone decided to show up early to get a head start on the drinking, without giving us a heads up. So now the bar is swarming, and Pete is manning it alone since Julia decided to play hooky today. So go! Run! Now!” he babbles, waving his hands, shooing me away.
I roll my eyes and stash my bag in my locker.
Inside the bar, poor Pete is running around like a chicken with its head cut off, pouring brandy and handing out beers to the impatient guests.
I roll my shoulders and quickly survey my end of the bar. It’s just as spotless as I left it. Good. That’ll make my job easier.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between!” I shout, flashing a broad smile as I gesture to the guests.
They look up and start moving toward me.
I let go of every thought, every emotion, and just move. The patrons shout their orders as I whirl around, grabbing bottles, pouring drinks, taking payments, and smiling all the while. I’m a fucking machine.
I clear my line in under twenty minutes, so I wave over more of Pete’s line. Thirty minutes later, the guests are spread out among the tables, chatting and laughing happily.
I chuckle at Pete, who looks like he’s been run over by a bus. His strawberry-blond hair is tousled and messy, and beads of sweat dot his forehead. He wipes them away with a towel before his dark green eyes meet mine. The corners of his mouth curl up into a cheeky grin.
“How are you so amazing under pressure, Jewel?” he asks, a twinkle in his eye.
I sigh, exasperated. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? What does my name tag say?” I whisper-shout. I’m so tired of having this conversation.
“Jenny. But Jewel is such a cool name!” he replies.
I grit my teeth. “I don’t care what you think. It’s not my name anymore! End of story!” I snap as I turn around and start wiping down my station.
“Sorry,” he mumbles.
The name is a cruel reminder of my past. I changed it years ago, but one slip-up, and Pete figured it out.
Someone had called out “Jewel” in the lobby as a pet name for some spoiled princess, and I, like a complete idiot, had reacted to it.
Pete had promised not to tell anyone, but every now and then he tries to use it. I shut him down every time.
I let out a heavy sigh, trying to shake off the annoyance. The guests are starting to migrate toward the banquet hall. Some of them are already a bit wobbly, and let’s just say, the conversation in the group is no longer strictly business.
We have a few hours to clean up before they’ll likely be back. I grab a tray and start making my way around the tables, collecting all the dirty glasses. Within five minutes, I’ve stacked a total of seven trays on the counter.
I glance at Pete, who nods his approval. As usual, he’ll run them through the dishwasher, while I clean the tables.
I grab some disinfectant and start making my way through the room. Some of the tables are so sticky with dried, sugary drinks that I have to put some elbow grease into scrubbing them. The last table is one of those jobs.
Deep in concentration, I suddenly feel a light tickle on my lower back. My shirt has slipped out of my slacks as it usually does when I’m scrubbing like this.
I pause for a second but quickly get back to work.
When it happens again, I slow my movements. Something warm slowly caresses my exposed skin. Heat floods my body as I feel a pressure against my ass. I jerk my body to the side.
I look around the room, but it’s completely empty. Pete must still be in the kitchen. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
Suddenly, I feel a presence behind me. I whip around only to face the wall.
I walk back just as Pete comes out from the kitchen. “I’m taking a break!” I announce, a slight tremor in my voice.
“You okay?” he asks, his eyes scanning my face.
“Yeah. I just need food and some fresh air,” I reply, forcing a grin.
When faking a smile, most people can’t make it reach their eyes. But mine is perfect.
“All right, then. The crowd won’t be back for at least another hour,” he replies, letting go of his concern.
I hurry past the kitchen and out the back door. I lean against the cold bricks and let my body slide down until I’m squatting. I rub my temples and try to regain my composure.
“Evening, miss. Are you all right?” a male voice says, pulling me from my thoughts.
I slowly look up at the man standing just a few meters away from me.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I say as I rise to my feet.
He takes a few steps closer. “You don’t look fine. You sure you’re okay?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.
The dim light by the door reveals his sharp, clean-shaven jaw and thin lips, but his eyes are hidden in the dark shadow of the fedora on his head. He’s wearing a black trench coat, black leather gloves, and he has a long umbrella tucked under his left arm.
“Just stress of the job. I’m fine, really,” I say, giving him my perfect fake smile.
“All right, miss. I bid you a good night, then,” he says and walks further down the alley. I glance after him. What a strange man.
Just as I turn around to open the door, he calls out to me. “Beware of the darkness.”
His words chill me to the bone. I spin around to ask what he means by that, but he’s gone.
Ripping the door open, I hurry inside. I take a deep breath and wipe the thin layer of perspiration from my neck. I won’t let this freaky shit affect me. I’m stronger than this. I’m not some scared little twat.
I go to the kitchen to request my food and am handed a spare plate from the banquet dinner. I love working the afternoon or evening shift, just because of the delicious food.
I take my grub to the break room and sit down to eat. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes before Rob comes stomping in with his permanent scowl.
“You’re on break already?” he spits.
“You called me in before I had a chance to eat. So yeah, I’m eating. I assume you don’t want me to pass out while working behind the bar,” I snap back.
I won’t let him have a go at me unless he actually has a reason.
“Shit! I didn’t think of that,” he says, looking a little embarrassed.
That’s as much of an apology as I’ll ever get from him, so I wave him off.
“Great, now let me eat so I can get back to work,” I say, giving him a crooked half smile.
He huffs a laugh and walks away.
He’s not a bad boss, really. He just gets easily stressed, and he’s short tempered. But I know how to handle him.
I eat just a little bit slower than normal, savoring every last bit of the food.
After cleaning up, I go to the locker room to freshen up. I brush my teeth and wash my hands before looking over myself in the mirror. I notice a tiny speck of sauce on my white shirt.
I grab a clean one from my locker and start unbuttoning the dirty one. If Rob sees the stain, he’ll make a fuss about it. Better to just change now and avoid his whining.
I let the soft fabric slide off my shoulders and drop to the floor. Suddenly, I feel a warm graze on my left shoulder. I can feel it, but I can’t see what did it.
It trails down my arm, all the way to my wrist. I watch in the mirror, eyeing the place where I feel the sensation.
It trails up again, and when it reaches my shoulder, it squeezes. I can clearly see small imprints on my skin, like an invisible hand is touching me.
I stand completely still, more curious than scared now.
Warmth spreads on the left side of my waist. I try to keep my breath calm and steady, even though my lungs are desperately screaming for more air.
My neck tickles as the hairs on the back of my neck move, as if someone is breathing on me.
“What are you doing?” I whisper over my breath.
Then it abruptly stops.
