You probably can't believe I'm still writing this. The truth is, I can hardly believe it myself. I certainly thought long and hard about it, but finally decided that since the whole thing's all out in the open anyway that there wasn't much reason to stop writing about it. And you might find this hard to fathom but I feel like I have a certain kind of relationship with you; a relationship that I want to honor. You might wonder at my sanity, but there you have it.
It certainly was a fascinating day, as you might well imagine. Yes, I did find I was being avoided, both men and women, and when I did interact with someone, they kept it studiously impersonal. It was amazing to realize that the news had spread so rapidly and so completely.
Lina, bless her, was the exception. She wasn't showy about it, but she never avoided me in the least, and in the morning she squeezed my hand. Thank you, Lina; you now obviously know who you are, and you are a treasure. Almost all the other women, as I said, avoided me all day and kept any conversation to a minimum. I did see Jane eying me, almost slyly, which had me wondering. And Cathy tried bravely to be friendly, but the poor thing couldn't manage it. I caught her watching me once, but seeming more shy than sly.
The men mostly left me alone though for some of them it might have been just their normal attitude. I'll bet some hadn't even heard the news. We aren't a particularly with-it bunch. I was a bit afraid of come-ons, but received only a couple, and I was surprised how subtle they were. I didn't know the guys had it in them. Not that I was the least bit comfortable with what was implied.
Michael wasn't one of them, thank God. In fact, I hardly saw him, and I even thought about whether he was finding ways to avoid me completely. It physically hurt when I did see him and thought about what he'd undoubtedly read and thought of me. Michael, please notice me, that I'm too shy to give you any real hint. And that all this stuff means nothing, really. After you figure out that you are Michael, of course.
But fortunately, my work is the sort I can do alone, and when I could pull my mind off my weird circumstances, it was a good day to concentrate. A few more such days, and I might finish a draft soon. But believe me, that was not by design.
After work, it was supper alone. Again. I guess it's all out now that I'm a lonely woman, and I can't imagine that this will help in any way that I'd be willing to pursue. I still can't believe this happened.
With nothing going on that would provide me with an evening's entertainment, I fell back on catching up on my reading. As I've said, I hate to write at home when I've been at it all day so I read instead. I'd made a bit of progress on last month's journals when she showed up.
I'd had a distinct feeling she'd be along given yesterday's outing. I'd been so certain I'd been careful enough to keep my identity secret, changing people's names, place names, even times, when doing so seemed prudent. You can't believe how much I wish I could take yesterday back. Or perhaps you can.
Anyhow, I heard the knock at my door, and was pretty much certain who would be standing there. And yes, there was Cheryl. Looking at me in that way she has, for several seconds, until I was so nervous I was unable to hold her gaze. "What the fuck are you doing wearing clothes?" were her first words.
I think I trembled in panic. Her look brooked no nonsense, yet we were standing there with my front door open to the corridor. Her voice was loud enough that neighbors might well have heard it. I thought for just a second, then pulled them off as fast as I could.
She deliberately remained standing there with the door open. I could tell she knew exactly what she was doing, and was testing me. I hate that. And she knows that too. But there was no way I was going to cross her.
So I stood there, totally naked, as she stood in my open doorway. I prayed that no one would walk by. Taking her time, she finally came in, slowly pulling the door closed. "So, the slut's been making a fucking muddle of things," she finally said.
I was more frightened than I'd been of the open door at this confirmation of her attitude about the whole thing. "Yes Ma'am," I managed to mumble.
"Did I ask you to fucking talk?" she said. I stood there mute, not sure what do for a second. I'd answered her but she hadn't asked a question, which is what she'd called me on. But this time it was, in fact, a question. "No Ma'am," I said.
I saw her smile. She knew exactly what I was going through. "So," she said, "did the fucking slut miss me?"
"Yes Ma'am," I said, quickly.
"Knees," she said and I immediately dropped to mine. She continued to stand, looking down at me. "Play with your tits," she said. I raised my hands and obediently fingered them. "I want you fucking hot and bothered."
I wondered why she had to talk like that. It made me uncomfortable. I found myself somehow aroused when she was around, but her crude choice of words seemed to make me feel all the more guilty about her, and uneasy in other ways too. I felt my nipples stiffen. She laughed at me. "Waiting for the chance to lick me?" she said.
"Yes Ma'am," I said. God I hated the way she used me.
She laughed and said, "First things first. Up against the table, slut." As I quickly obeyed, she laughed again. I could tell she wasn't going to hold back on the whipping.
I heard her move around the room, but I knew I'd better not stir. "At least the slut knows her place," she said. "I'll bet you had quite a day today. Find you had any new friends?"
"No Ma'am," I said. I wondered if she meant come-ons from the men. I had indeed detected something there.
"What? No one to do lines of your cosmic dust with you?"
"No Ma'am," I said, refraining from making anything of her crude comment. It was her idea of a little joke on absorption lines and interstellar dust. I wished she didn't know enough about what I do to get so sarcastic about it.
She laughed again. "Whatever turns you on," she said. Then she let me have it.
.... There is more of this story ...