The Encounter

Part One

It had taken several attempts before he even responded to the messages, we had not even been friends on the site. I'd in fact said "Happy Birthday" when it had never been made public. March 18th.

"Thank u" he responded two days later. Of course he hadn't recognized the profile picture. I wonder if in person he would even notice. It had been so dark.

12 years and I had finally found him again.

I'd waved, wished him a Merry Christmas and also congratulated him on the promotion, he never responded. When I finally saw the message bubble appear I was staring at the message box but was unaware, my mind had drifted into oblivion as I looked but was not focused, that had not been normal, I always watched for his response, I constantly checked. The day the bubble with the three dots appeared I just knew it had been a mistake, had he tried to message someone else?

"U do the same," he'd said. The last message had been 4 months prior and it had read "Have a good night," I'd sat before my computer screen at 4:12 P.M...but was that his response, how many good nights had passed since then? It most certainly had to be a mistake or he was up to no good, which was highly unlikely. Had the others not responded? I wondered how far down the list I was. I checked his profile for an indication of a breakup which I knew wasn't the case... I often wondered why. I hadn't expected any memes with trifling quotes about an ex, or even a personal post he had blatantly typed out downgrading someone he still loved...he was more disciplined than that, his dapper appearance and his superb etiquette set him aside from the average 32 year old entrepreneur. He was a notch above the top. His chiseled frame, chocolate skin, and handsome features had not resulted in what had been foreseen, I remembered the scrawny misfit. The troubled childhood he had endured only fueled his hunger for success, he had grown up to be something unique. The hardships had sequeled his steadfast drive to be number one at all he had done. His foster mother had instilled something in him that his birth mother never fathomed before she passed away. His birth mother however, had also mutilated his disposition. Had that been the explanation for the chaste life he lived for the past two years? Why he preferred to masturbate I had not known, and the way he went about it was as if the haughty bastard loved himself to the aspect of "Self-Lust?" Rather absurd. I had watched his actions from the shadows and refused to believe a muthafucka could embrace his own body the way he had. He laid amidst the satin sheets and stroked himself in the most passionate manner imaginable, he had even cried out. The unexpected wail upon release had startled me and I had almost revealed my concealed presence when his tasted his own orgasm. The horizontal cut on my left wrist had begun to ooze through the buttoned sleeve.

I'd decided to wait before I responded. The notion to make a video call occurred but was dismissed when the bubble appeared again. He typed. I wondered if his abstinence had been a result of a medical condition. How I wished he would fuck someone so I could watch him, had I not known how to react to his advances that night? It had been 38 days I had watched him, he had had no companions. Before I figured out how to get inside perhaps he had but his erections as he slumbered indicated it had been a while, I fought the urges to climb on top of him just to feel him inside and then kill him, but i had to stick to my plan. Sunday night's dream sent him into a frenzy, he had blindly felt for his phone on the nightstand after waking up in a sweat, searched for the porn topic that assisted him with reaching his pinnacle and fiercely masturbated, swift and intense. I had not been back since. His gestures had caused me to go home and do the same.

The message bubble appeared.

You're persistent...

You're consistent. Every night?

He hesitated after beginning another message, had he not known how to respond?

I'm not online every night, Ms. Chrys...

Well of course not Davien, u are always in the bed choking your chicken.

He was so handsome, and if I hadn't had a motive I would give him a run for his money, literally. It had taken 12 long years. He hadn't even remembered me from my profile picture, or had he? He had been so drunk that night, I was sure he hadn't even known how I looked and surely I would not have found him 1100 miles away, right? As I stood under my hood he'd staggered from his car and offered his assistance. He'd still had a soul at that moment. Something had taken that away...most likely the rejection. He hadn't looked like anyone who had heard "NO" often. It had been the simple battery post he'd had one in his garage, less than a mile away. I'd only let down my guards because he wasn't the average 21 year old, it seemed he'd known what he wanted in life, not like the senior guys I was accustomed to. Older was ok, as long as Daddy hadn't found out I thought, not ever considering the fact that we were from two different sides of the tracks and what was about to take place behind closed doors was just a guise that would result in my demise. Yea I breathed, but I died inside while his sweat poured into my face, and I'd been dead since the rape. The fact that I had been a virgin turned him on even more, it wasn't normal how he lost control forcing his way inside, his semen pouring into his hand, too excited to perform. But he would redeem himself shortly and also make sure I would never be normal again.

Im pretty sure the kidnappings were not normal, but fuck it...I mean I, I always wanted children too so...

I would not ever let him be normal again. He would never...

Where do u live Chrys...?

Close.

I could not believe he had asked. Had he wanted to visit? Had he studied my profile constantly like I had his. Was he infatuated as was I? I was sure our reasons hadn't coincided. I pictured myself embracing my prey. He was so much, I often pictured him inside of me again, this time I would willingly make passionate love to him before I killed him. Had he not wondered how I could navigate through the large home he lived in alone? Why Tamara hadn't barked upon my "initial arrival"? We made love on the first night, he was not the same Davien. I actually considered...

I could not falter, but continued to be subjected to his hands on my thighs underneath my dress, his fingertips intentionally grazing my pussy while he sucked on my neck. I hadn't allowed anyone to touch me, I knew with the partial hysterectomy I had in 12th grade I would never have children so why even fool myself into thinking I could ever be normal...hadn't wanted to lead anyone on. Why was he so seductive? I went home, I screamed I cried...the blade cut deeper, the blood thicker, why had I not killed him as I intended! Surely I wasn't a coward, the plan went accordingly with Mother and I WAS FAR FROM A COWARD! HE...well he had only just seduced me manipulatively as if he'd known he was about to die. Had he bribed me? HE'D FUCKING BRIBED ME AND WAS STILL ALIVE! He had touched something so deep inside, I'd bit my lip as it trembled the assisted orgasms came one after another. They were much different than all I had ever encountered alone. 12 years, no one else had penetrated me. How they had searched for him, "Surely u remember how he looks!"

WELL DIDNT U GUYS SAY THEY ALL LOOK THE SAME! HOW THE FUCK DO I KNOW! IT WAS FROM BEHIND IDIOT! I could not allow them to alter what had been written. He'd thrown me in the lake and went to his 9 a.m class as if my blood hadn't covered his pubes 5 hours before, I mean he just couldn't get enough, like now. Had this been his doppelganger? I fucking pondered...liquor can alter your persona. The gifts, the foot rubs, the sex...the sweaters in June, the silent bulimic impulses...he'd never know Chrysanthemum, he'd never asked my name that night, and why had he moved so many miles away? I love him. His passion, the way he holds my calf and watches himself enter in and out of what he's destroyed. I can never have his children, why must he beg. I hate him equally. I've invested too much time toward the retribution coming to him, he needs not to be as he is, show me the monster! I need to see a monster, I need the blades. He'd finally saw the cuts, he kissed my arm seductively they had begun to heal while he fucked me senseless.

Why were they healing! Had they turned him on, he became maniacal, the experience was so erotic I pictured him masturbating as he had on New Years Eve, he'd still had on his tie. He now feels the need to hide his vice. Has he reversed the spell? The separations become deadly when we part, I need him genuinely, at times I almost want to be raped again. I need to hate him as before.