Sex Stalker

Sex Stalker

Darren G. Burton

Published by Darren G. Burton at Kindle

Copyright © 2010 Darren G. Burton

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Cover Design:  Darren G. Burton

Sex Stalker

The sun was starting to dip below the western horizon when Ryan left the office on Thursday and strolled across the car park toward his vehicle. 

At forty-three, and after many years in the same field, he was getting rather bored with his job as a financial advisor for small businesses. It seemed like the same routine every single day. Arrive at the office at eight-thirty, grab a coffee, sit down at his desk and scan through his appointments. Then throughout the day, one by one, he’d meet with his appointments and virtually go through the same spiel of how to better manage business finances, hopefully leading to bigger profits.

In his personal life he’d been married and divorced twice. Right now he was single. No girlfriend. No casual liaisons. Nothing.

Life was dull. He needed some excitement injected into his life before he slipped into a coma.

As he walked across the bitumen he loosened his tie. He hated ties. Used to love them when he was younger. Made him feel professional and important. Now having that strip of material around his neck just felt like a hindrance; somehow symbolic of him being trapped in a lifestyle he no longer wanted to be in.

The black BMW beeped and the indicators flashed when Ryan flicked the button on the remote on his approach. He opened a back door and dumped his briefcase onto the seat. There he paused a second, ripped his tie off and threw that onto the seat as well. He then got in behind the wheel, inserted the key into the ignition and was about to start the car when he noticed something out of place.

Ryan stepped back out onto the bitumen. On his windscreen there was a small scrap of notebook paper jammed under the driver’s side wiper blade. He lifted the blade and retrieved the note. With his curiosity mounting he read it.

“I think you are really hot!” the note said. It was signed simply ‘M’.

Ryan frowned and read the very brief message again, as if it were going to tell him something more the second time around. It didn’t.

He smiled and shrugged then. “Who’s M?” he said to himself.

Ryan looked back at the three storey office building which housed the company he worked for. Did M work there? Was it one of these women he saw wandering through the car park right now?

No one took any notice of him. He glanced all around. No women ducking behind a parked car or scurrying off into the bushes. Nothing looked suspicious.

Whoever it was, they’re probably long gone by now, he decided.

Ryan got back into the car, tossed the note onto the passenger seat and started the engine. The powerful, finely-tuned motor roared into life. He backed out and drove through the car park to head for home.

Traffic was heavy as it always was at peak hour and it took him a good thirty minutes to reach his place out in the suburbs. It was almost fully dark when the BMW pulled to a stop in the driveway to his single level, three bedroom home. Before venturing inside, Ryan went to the mailbox and pulled a stack of letters and junk mail from within. Once inside the house, he dumped the pile of mail and his brief case and tie on the kitchen bench and, out of habit more than the desire for caffeine, put the kettle on.

After a coffee was brewed and milk added, he took his mug and the mail out onto the back patio and sat down to go through it. He took a sip of coffee, then started sifting through the pile.

Junk mail was put aside. He went through the real letters. Bill. Another bill. A letter from his mother, complaining about why she hadn’t seen him in months. Then an envelope with no postage stamp attached. It just had his name written on it. No address. Obviously personally delivered. He flipped it over. Nothing on the back.

Ryan quickly ripped the envelope apart and withdrew another scrap of notebook paper like the one found on his car windshield.

It read, “I think you are really sexy! I love older men.” Again signed simply ‘M’.

“Older men?” said Ryan, not sure if he was too keen on that interpretation of his age. He looked at the envelope again. “So whoever this is they obviously know my name. Must be someone I know.”

He went inside to look for the first note. Not there. Must have left it in the car. After retrieving it from the passenger seat, Ryan went back outside and compared the handwriting of both notes. He was no expert, but they looked for all money to have been penned by the same hand. He didn’t recognize the handwriting.

He gulped down the rest of his coffee, which had gone tepid by now, and sat there staring at the messages.

Ryan wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Part of him was flattered and quite excited that he had a secret admirer of some sort. Another part of him was concerned he may have a stalker on his hands.

Was she dangerous? If it even was a she.

The handwriting looked feminine, but it may not be. All he had to go on so far was the letter M, and the fact that this person knew his name, his car and his address. They obviously knew way more about him than he did about them.

His stomach grumbled so he went back into the kitchen and searched the freezer for something to throw into the microwave. Under some steaks and sausages he discovered a frozen Thai dinner that consisted of green chicken curry and rice. He tossed it into the microwave and started it up, then stepped into the living room and switched his computer on. By the time Windows had fully loaded the microwave was beeping to announce dinner had been cooked.

The food was dumped onto a plate. He grabbed a fork from the drawer and took the steaming dish over to his desk. When he checked his emails he had his usual fair share of junk mail. After weeding that out, an email on the screen caught his eye.

“M” has sent you a message on Facebook.

He scooped some food into his mouth and clicked on the email to read it.

“I want to suck your big cock dry,” the message read.

Ryan choked on his food, chunks of rice spraying the LCD screen. He clicked on the link to the Facebook page and waited for it to load. Once the message screen had opened, he clicked through to M’s profile. The page unfolded before him. There was nothing on it. No picture, no profile details. Just the username and a note saying that the user only shares private information with friends.

“She obviously hasn’t added me as a friend then,” Ryan said and ate some more curry. “Who the hell is this person? And why the sudden interest?”

He read the message again and felt a stirring inside his pants. It was a natural reaction. Ryan then abruptly pushed sexual thoughts aside. He knew nothing about this person. For all he knew she could be eighty years old. Or a man, not a woman.

Don’t get too excited yet, he chastised himself.

Whilst shoveling some food into his mouth he tried to figure out what to do next. An idea came to him.

Ryan typed in a web address on his keyboard and a few seconds later the home page for his company came up on screen. He knew all employees were listed on the company website. Even though he wasn’t sure it was someone at work, it was a good possibility and at least somewhere to start. The company he worked for was quite a large one, and he by no means knew everyone there. Only those in his department really.

‘M’ was most likely the initial of a first name, but could also be for a surname, so he scanned through all female employees whose first or last name started with M. When he was done he finished up with a list of seven possibilities, two of which had a small photo attached to the employee profile. He printed the list of possibilities.

One woman with a picture was named Mary Rogers. She looked to be in her fifties. Ryan recalled the second message, about loving older men. And since Mary was obviously older than he, Ryan crossed her off the list.

The second profile with a photo depicted a much younger woman, maybe mid-twenties and reasonably attractive. Madeline Kline. She fit the profile with what small amount of information he had to go on, so Madeline remained on the list.

He scanned the remaining five profiles. There wasn’t enough information there to eliminate anyone else. The profiles didn’t give away personal statistics such as age, and without photographs to try and determine ages, he couldn’t cross any of them off as being obviously too old to prefer ‘older men’. And none of the remaining six people directly worked in his department; although the various departments in the company did interact from time to time..

As he sat there and finished his meager meal, a nag screen popped up on his monitor, informing him that he’d received a new email. Ryan’s heart beat a little faster as he checked the email message. It was another Facebook message from M. He read it.

“I am so wet and horny right now. I wish you were here to fill my pussy with your hard cock. I can’t wait to fuck you.”

Again his dick stirred in his pants. He had no control over that.

“If you want to fuck me,” he said to the computer, “why don’t you reveal yourself and let’s get it on?”

Another Facebook message.

“I’m going to take your meaty cock down my throat and suck the cum from your balls.”

This message made Ryan’s cock go rock hard in a matter of seconds. It had been a while since he’d last had sex, and with the build up due to months of abstinence, it didn’t take much to get him fully aroused.

She may not wish to reveal herself just yet, but she certainly wasn’t shy in saying what she wanted, thought Ryan. And quite graphic about it too.

For the next few hours Ryan watched television, periodically checking his computer for any new messages from M. After a shower he was just about ready for bed. One last check of his emails revealed no new messages. That was it for tonight by the look of it.

*  *  *

It was Friday morning. Ryan pulled his BMW to a stop in the car park at work and got out. As he always did, he checked his reflection in the driver’s door window, making sure his hair was in place and his damned tie was straight. When all was in order he made his way toward the office building.

He casually glanced around as he strode across the parking lot. When he reached the top of the stairs that led to the building’s entrance, he paused and looked back toward his car. No one was lurking around it, about to insidiously place a note on his windshield. When he saw nothing of interest he stepped inside.

Ryan said hello to the receptionist, Natalie, a bubbly young blonde of about nineteen or twenty.

M not N, he thought to himself when the possibility of it being Natalie sprang to mind. Maybe he just wished it was her? She certainly was cute.

After making his mandatory coffee in the kitchen, he went to his office, sat at his desk, turned his computer on and scanned today’s appointments while waiting for the machine to boot up.

The very first appointment on the list caught his eye immediately. It was a woman. Her name was Melanie Mitchell.

M and M. Could it be her?

Melanie was due to be in his office in half an hour. Would there be any real way of determining if she was the one sending him the messages? Should he just ask her straight up? No, can’t do that. It’s probably not even her. He’d seem like a freak, not to mention extremely unprofessional.

Ryan swallowed some coffee and checked his emails. Another Facebook message, again from M.

“I’m watching you, handsome,” was all it said.

Ryan instinctively looked up from his monitor and scanned the nearby hallways and offices through the huge glass windows that encased his office. A few men and women were either milling around, or sitting at their desks concentrating on various tasks. Nobody was looking his way. No one paid him any mind.

“I feel like I’m getting paranoid,” he whispered to himself. He still wasn’t sure whether to be excited by the attention, or concerned.

He caught up on some paperwork and finished his coffee, killing time between now and his appointment with Melanie Mitchell. Ryan found it hard to concentrate. This ‘stalker’, or whatever she was, continually played on his mind and disrupted his thoughts.

Eventually the half an hour crawled by and he waited expectantly for his nine-thirty appointment.

His intercom buzzed. He pressed a button to answer it.

“Melanie Mitchell is here to see you,” came Natalie’s sweet voice.