He Watches Me: The Seen Trilogy: Part One Read Online Free PDF Page B

He wants to fuck me.
    I pump conditioner into my right palm and apply it to my frizzy hair, threading my fingers through the tangles. The conditioner smells of vanilla. Will it taste the same? I rub some of the mousse into my private curls.
    “Enough.”
    I jump, not having heard Blaine’s approach. He stands beside me with the key in one palm, the black ribbon wrapped around his fingers, and a plush white robe in his other hand.
    “I didn’t wash out the conditioner,” I protest.
    “It can stay in.” Blaine opens the robe and waits, his body rock hard under his form-fitting suit, his erection unabated. I walk toward him and he bundles me in soft Egyptian cotton, touching me only through the robe.
    The hem hits my calves. This can’t be Blaine’s robe. He is easily a foot taller than me. “Is this for me?” I hold up my hair.
    “Everything is for you.” He fastens my ribbon, the gold key restored to where it belongs—between my breasts. “I’ll walk you to the gate.”
    “I left my flip-flops on the grass.” I follow him, savoring the grass between my toes.
    “I’ll return them in the morning.” Blaine doesn’t take my hand. He doesn’t brush his arm against mine. Heat and tension radiates from his physique. How long can he go without touching me?
    Or doesn’t he want to touch me? I frown. Is he merely interested in watching? “I left my clothes here last night.”
    “I won’t return those,” he rumbles.
    My frown deepens. “Did you throw them away?” They were old and worn but they were mine and I don’t have many clothes.
    “I claimed them,” Blaine tells me. I don’t know what this means. Why would he claim a faded camisole and bleached thin boy shorts?
    As we approach the gate, I slow my already slow pace. I’m tired and sexually sated, yet I’m not ready to leave Blaine, not yet.
    The Leighs’ gate is beautiful but not unique. Every stretch of wrought iron enclosing Blaine’s backyard has a similar gate.
    “Four sides, four gates,” I observe.
    “One can never have too many exits.”
    “That’s true.” I understand his need for freedom. If I was a billionaire, I’d have no fences. I take my own sweet time unlocking the gate, not wanting to end this encounter.
    When I’m gone, will he unzip those restrictive dress pants and masturbate in the dark? Or, I stiffen, will he find another woman to ease his arousal? Am I simply an appetizer and not his main course?
    “There’s no need to worry, Anna.” Shadows play over Blaine’s face. “I’m watching over you.”
    “I’m not coming back tomorrow.” I decide. This relationship, or experience or whatever this is, can’t be healthy. It isn’t normal.
    “You will.”
    Blaine’s chuckle follows me as I hurry back to the Leighs’ steel and concrete bungalow. I tell myself I won’t look back but I can’t resist and I do. I don’t see Blaine. He’s gone, vanishing as though he has never existed.

 
    Chapter Three
    W HEN I WAKE up, I look in the mirror and a miracle has happened. My hair is no longer frizzy. It cascades over my shoulders, a sheet of rippling brown silk.
    Buoyed by my great hair day, I decide to try out the new bra and panties. The panties are okay. I remain uncomfortable with the bra. My breasts don’t look like my breasts. They’re huge, massive. Even my baggy white blouse clings to them.
    As I’ll likely be the only one who notices, I decide not to change and head out the door. My flip-flops are lined up neatly by the cold steel welcome mat, Blaine once again keeping his word.
    I give the bus driver a cheery hello. He grumbles back. I sit beside a man in a construction hat and grubby work boots who spends the trip cursing out some poor soul on the other end of the phone. He’s using f-bombs like my mom would use oregano, liberally.
    Thinking of my missing mom dims my spirits for a moment but then I stroke my hair and I bounce back. The normally unruly tendrils are soft and straight. I’m tempted to