So small. But not in a bad way.
As I turned the car onto the busy commercial street, I became acutely aware of a strange desire that had taken root within me:
I wanted to please him.
2
Adam
As soon as I got home, I threw the magazines I’d bought onto the table where they’d be forgotten immediately.
It would come as a surprise to some, but I wasn’t actually interested in Better Homes & Gardens or Sports Illustrated. The reason I went to that bookstore wasn’t to get books.
I’d been to that store four times in the past month, hoping to catch a glimpse of that beautiful man I’d seen at the beginning of August.
The first time I saw him, it felt like I was struck by lightning. A powerful urge unfurled in my gut: An urge to get to know this man that looked like an angel.
I wanted to take care of him, too. That feeling was apparent right off the bat.
As I poured myself a glass of water and strode out onto my back porch, the sprawling lake sparkled before me. It was nice to have this sanctuary — this huge house for me to relax and be peaceful in.
But when there’s peace and quiet, it’s cousin is never far behind: Loneliness.
I’d gone to that bookstore repeatedly; hoping to run into him again. Hoping that he was a creature of habit and that he would come back. When my wish was finally granted, I glimpsed him there in the aisle looking at a book.
His big red lips were like two soft red rose petals painted on his face.
For the first time in a long time, I was… nervous. I was nervous watching him: Nervous to approach.
And then my heart was in my throat when my eyes traveled upward and saw what section he was in: The BDSM section.
At that moment, the whole world around me fell away as I tried to digest the possibility that he was into the same thing I was into. And before I knew it, my mind was already putting all of the pieces together to assume he was the perfect sub.
Everything about him was perfect.
But I couldn’t bring myself to approach him, aside from a few awkward comments.
That hadn’t happened in years. This boy had me tongue-tied, stumbling over my words.
And what was worse, I wasn’t even able to work up the courage to hit on him properly or ask for his number. Just like the first time I’d seen him, he appeared in my life as some kind of angel, and then just as quickly vanished into thin air. I’d let him get away.
I wouldn’t let that happen again.
At least now I knew that he lived around here. This little suburban area was small. If he visited that book store twice in a month, that meant he was probably a resident. There were only so many places he could be.
Another thing I’d gathered from my bookstore mission was a hint; a small scrap of information that I could use to find him.
I’d seen him talking to Mrs. Carr, that stuck-up woman with the I-need-to-talk-to-the-manager haircut.
I was familiar with Mrs. Carr… but more so with her son. Since I was a cop in this town, I’d had more than my fair share of encounters wither her complete screw up of a son: Underage drinking, driving under the influence, shoplifting, setting people’s property on fire…
She owed me a favor.
I sipped on the cool water, feeling the icy liquid pass my lips. When it got to my stomach, it unfurled and sent chills throughout my body.
I could call her real quick— it was still only the afternoon. She had some time to herself before her delinquent kid came home from school — if he was even there today in the first place.
So I grabbed my phone, found her contact info, and dialed her.
It rang three times before she picked up.
I’m sure she saw my name on her phone screen and felt dread; dread that her son had done something illegal again. But I’d learned by all my previous interactions with her that she didn’t care much for her son’s well-being; she only cared how he made her look.
“Hello?” She answered in her high-pitched, shrill voice with a tinge of fear to it.
“Hey Mrs. Carr.” I greeted, unconsciously letting my deep authoritarian cop voice flow out of me. I cleared my throat and tried to talk in my more gentle, civilian voice. “How is your Saturday going?”
“What did he do?” She asked, her voice full of panic.
We both knew that she was talking about her son.
I frowned. “Nothing. I’m calling you to see if you can help me with another investigation.”
My gut twisted at my half-lie.
“A-another investigation?” She asked, her voice betraying her interest.
“Correct,” I affirmed. “Today you were at the town bookstore, is that correct?”
“That’s right…” she said, her voice faltering. I could practically hear the suspicion simmering under the surface. “Am I a suspect in something? Am I being followed by the police?!” She asked, panicked.
“No no, nothing like that,” I softened my voice again. “I was there too, and I saw you in the cafe but I couldn’t say hi because I had to run some errands.”
My voice was tumbling out of my mouth now; I was such a bad liar.
Thankfully, Mrs. Carr was oblivious to it. “O-oh.” She said. “Yes, I was in the cafe today. I didn’t see you though… you must have been in normal clothes — I didn’t recognize you.”
That was true. The frequent times Mrs. Carr had seen me, I was always dressed in my uniform.
I needed to wrap this conversation up; this wasn’t right. My gut twisted uncomfortably at the fact that I had to do this at all.
“Yeah, I’m off-duty today,” I said, swirling the ice cubes in my glass. Then the question came bubbling out of me. “When I saw you today, I noticed that you talked to someone briefly. Who was that?”
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