Chapter 4

“98... 99... 100.” Toby opens his eyes. With a quick look around, he confirms that Mel has disappeared, and he can’t hear anything that would indicate her presence. He rolls his eyes again and groans. He just wants to get his rocks off. “Coming,” he says, declining to shout the line he remembers from childhood.

As he stands, he takes note of the painting. He has no understanding of art. What was it Mel wanted from him? He stares for a moment, curiously. He had seen Mel staring. There is, undeniably, something compelling in it, that holds his gaze a little longer than he intends. He doesn’t have the language to explain why. He shakes his head and walks away.

Quickest way to do this would be systematically, right? He goes to the nearest door and opens it. A dimly lit bedroom, interior, no windows. He flips a light switch. Still dim. At the far end, there looks like there might be a lump under the sheets. He steps out of the doorway back into the hall and says loudly, “Do I just have to open doors or look in the rooms too?” No response.

“God damn it,” he mutters. He walks into the room and tosses the blanket on the floor, hoping to find a naked woman underneath. No luck. He leaves and pushes open the next door. Another bedroom, this one much larger. He glances around for any hint of her and his imagination plays a scene. The bed is under a high ceiling. She’d look good underneath him there, and there are mirrors on either side of it, which would provide an exhilarating show. Alas, as he approaches and removes the blanket aggressively, he finds no sign of her. He finds the door to a walk-in closet and opens it. With a glimpse of the shelves, he pictures shoving Mel against them and slamming her. He turns on the light. She’s not there. As he steps out, he thinks he sees, out of the corner of his eye, the bed cleanly made. That’s weird. But he ignores the odd sensation. He’s too horny to worry about it.

The next room is a large bathroom. He doesn’t hear water running, but he does think about the large shower he sees. Maybe she’s in there. Maybe she turned the water off to trick him. What if she’s wet and ready behind that curtain? He could pull it back and watch her, her hair and tits dripping and glistening. He gets harder at the thought. But he pulls back the curtain, and nothing. Frustration grows in him as rapidly as his sexual urge. The two mix, tangle, and start to become difficult to pull apart.

He searches two more bedrooms and then finds what looks like a library. The lengthy room is wrapped in shelves with old-looking volumes and a bunch of tall windows. Though he doesn’t find evidence of her, he does look at one of the large, leather chairs. If she’s hidden in here, she could mount him on that. She’d look incredible, and he could keep her tits in his face. He finds himself hoping it’s this room - not just to be done with this, but because it would be awesome to fuck in here. He walks through the room. It smells stale. No luck.

Another bedroom, this one with similar implements as the ones in the room he slept in last night. His mind wanders, at this point unable to control itself. The anticipation has made it difficult for him to not picture Mel using these things. Tying her to the wall. Or vice versa. “Weird,” he says out loud, but isn’t entirely sure what he means by it. She’s not there.