The Click

The truth, when it finally became clear to her, came not with a lightning bolt of clarity, but rather with the dull thud of something you knew on the edges of your mind, but couldn't quite grasp, until the sheer weight of it came crashing down on you. No, there could be no doubt about it. She was bored. Bored with her job, bored with her condo, bored with her friends, bored with her life. Especially her sex life. Not that her lover Colin wasn't good, or nice, or kind. He was all of that. But he was too predictable, too safe, too bland. His enthusiasm was unencumbered by any spark of imagination. She had no doubt that, if asked, he would try to be spontaneous. Hell, he'd plan being spontaneous for days, until the very word would whither in embarrassment.

Maybe it was her. Maybe it was her decisions that lead to this mess. She examined herself for any sign that could appear in a mirror. She stood five foot four inches, 120 pounds. Maybe a little over weight, but still trim. Her once blonde hair now was trending toward brown. Perhaps some high lights? She sighed. "Sure," she thought, "That will fix everything. She stood there and thought. But no other great insights came to her. She just saw a tired, thirty-four year old woman looking back at her, eyes more sad than tired. She finished her drink, turned out the lights and tried to sleep. But sleep was slow in coming that night, crowded out by the nagging feeling of emptiness.

She dressed for the day before the sun was fully up. Grey flannel business suit. White silk blouse. Red paisley scarf, knotted at the throat. Black pumps. Very professional, very reserved. She grabbed her briefcase, alligator, and headed for the office. By two o'clock, she was out the door and hurrying to her meeting. Being prompt was no mere courtesy in her office, it was expected. She crossed the plaza, moving toward the ultra-modern building complex. The sun glinted off the remaining blonde highlight, treating them favorably. She rehearsed her presentation, and possible objections. Her concentration was nearly complete.

She never saw the man she passed. But there was no reason that she should. He was unremarkable to look at. Not bad, mind you, six feet tall, medium build. Dark hair that was now showing the first changes toward the grey that would come soon. His eyes, though, told a different story. The dark blue eyes held her with a combination of unusual concentration, and a sense of a mystery solved, as though some lost missing piece of a puzzle finally had been found. He turned, and followed her. While he noticed her strong stride, and the body language that suggested someone of determination, these were of secondary importance to him. He saw, or felt, The Click. There was no mistaking it, although he was never sure why it chose him, or when it would reappear. It had been nearly a year since it had last visited him, and he wasn't sure if it had left him for good. Sometimes, he wished it would. But it was here now, and there was no mistaking it. She just looked brighter than the people around her. It was like she had here own personal spot light. He could have picked her out of a crowd ten times out of ten. Indeed, he just did.

She went into the building, found the floor she was looking for, and went up in the elevator. He noted where she went, and then made his own preparations. It didn't take long.

A long, exhausting hour later she came back down, and left the elevator. She looked up from her thoughts, and started toward the front doors. He stepped up behind her, and took her elbow, firmly. "Security" he said, and pushed her toward the stairs. She tried to question him, but he was behind her, and he cut off her questions with a curt "Please hurry, Ma'm." Once on the stairs, she tried again to turn around, but felt something hard jammed into her ribs. "Move." was all he said. He opened the door to the next floor, and pushed her into the hallway. About halfway down the hall, he spun her towards the wall. She was utterly confused. What was he going to do here? This was a public area, after all.

He pushed her shoulders down and hit the back of her knee with his. She went to her knees in a hurry. He stepped in front of her, his cock already out. "Make me wet" he demanded. She started to object, but her words were blocked by him entering her mouth, and then her throat. He grabbed her by the hair, and forced himself deep into her, and her face met the fabric

of his trousers. A blush began to rise in her neck, and then crept up her neck into her face, leaving it red and blotchy. "My God," she thought in a panic. "Anyone could walk by. Kids could be here." Her sense of shame was compounded by the slight, but undeniable sense of excitement. She was horrified that she might find some pleasure in this, but it was there just the same.

He abruptly pulled out of her, and spun her around to face the wall. He pushed her forward until she was on her hands and knees. He pulled her skirt up over her hips, and ripped the pantyhose and panties from her in two sharp jerks. She was now completely exposed to his view, and feeling more embarrassed than ever. He knelt behind her, nudging her knees apart with his own. He took a moment to savor the sight. Trim pale white legs, firm with muscle, ending in a remarkably fuckable ass. The light brown hair showed him that she didn't shave, but he never thought she would. His hands traced up the inside of her thighs in a possessory stroke. He lined up his cock with her dampening slit, and took her in two long strokes. Even though she knew what he was planning, the shock of the invasion still caused her to take a sharp, short breath. She felt filled, completely, and utterly. She had had sex just last week, but that did nothing to prepare her for this. Whether in was the suddenness of the taking, or the feeling of public exposure, the breaking of all the rules, or a combination of all of them, the intensity of the moment was overwhelming. He held her by her hips, and sought his own pleasure. She was on her own.

He reached under her blouse, and pushed her bra up. He grasped her breasts in his hands, weighing them, and delighting in their shape. His thumb and forefinger pulled and twisted her nipples, sometimes gently, sometimes hard enough to cause her to cry out. His hands took by the ribs, near the small of the back. He could feel her heart beat increasing, and feel the short sharp breathes she was taking. He could sense her every sensation as he pounded away. The signs all pointed one way. Her own orgasm was building. He abruptly pulled out of her, causing a moan of protest, but then sought her asshole, and forced his way in. This increased then pain, and the shame for her. She never let anyone try that, but now it was beyond her control. He slammed into her, until he exploded, and she followed suit. She collapsed to the floor, dazed by the events. He bent over her, and pushed something into her mouth. "Chew these, it will help." She nodded dumbly, and began to chew. "How could gum help?" she wondered vaguely. But they did help. A soft glow began to spread inside her, and her ass hurt less. The fact that this wasn't ordinary gum never occurred to her. The glow came from a synthetic cocaine compound he kept. The other ingredient would make itself known to her soon enough. He fished her license out of her purse, and noted her name and address. "See you tonight, Ms. Roberts. You'll be ready by then. Stay down for three minutes." He turned and left. As soon as he left, she got up and smoothed out her clothing. Then she got out her cell phone, and called the police. "I've just been raped," she said, and gave them her location. "Stay there, we'll be right over" she was told. And she did.

The police processed the crime scene, but found little useable trace evidence. This was a public area, after all, and there was no way to establish what hair went with what person. She went with them to the police department to complete the reports. She sat in the upright wooden chair, a handkerchief grasped tightly in her hand. While she gave them the basic information about name, address, etc. She frowned slightly. Something didn't feel right. But that was to be expected, she thought, after all that happened. Two minutes later, the color slowly drained from her face, and a small band of sweat beads broke on her brow. "Are you O.K., Miss?", the detective asked. He was in his mid-forties, and about twenty pounds over weight. "Could I get you some water?" She smiled, and shook her head, no. But the discomfort that had started now built, and rapidly. She could no longer blame this on what happened. This feeling needed relieving, and

now! "The washroom" she cried, "Where is it?" The detective nodded towards the hall. "Is it locked?" she asked. "No." he replied. She ran towards the door, and was grateful there were no pantyhose in her way. As soon as she sat down, her bowels emptied, with a force that shocked her. She couldn't remember anything like this before. But the relief she experienced brought a low moan from her, as the pain became relief. She didn't know that she had just experienced the effects of the second compound in the gum. Similar to Ex-Lax, it worked more swiftly, and more violently. But the effect was transitory, its work was now done.

When she returned to the detective's desk, she was asked if she was all right. She was much better, she replied. "Now, " the detective asked, "I don't mean to be indelicate, but I need to know the details, of, the, uh,

"event." She blushed, and told him. "Does this mean that there were no discharges in the vaginal area?" he asked. "No, I guess not." She replied. "Then the lab will have to swab your other "area" for semen." She sat there,

a look of shock on her face. The implications of the visit to the bathroom were now clear. "I don't think that will be necessary, Officer" she said, and

then told him what had happened. No evidence remained after that. She sat and thought. Something nagged at her, but what was it? She sat silently, lost in thought. Then it became clear. "He said he was going to come over tonight" she finally said. "Can you be there?" His face hardened. "We'll be there, Ma'm, in spades."

Her condo was a few blocks off of the main street. Close enough to walk, but far enough away to be quiet. The street had no traffic to speak of at this moment. Just the hissing of the occasional car from someone trying to get back to the main road. The dry cleaning van sat a half a block down the street from her door, the small sedan a block down the other side of the street, on the opposite side. "Unit One, do you copy?" The driver of the van replied, "I copy. Prime view of the street, but there is a bush in the way near the door." "Unit Two , do you copy?" Until Two affirmed its response. The detective turned to the woman, and told her the units were in place. The camera in the van showed up on the small TV he put on the dining room table. It gave her a clear view of the street. "Pan around, Unit One ." he directed. The driver complied. Nothing could be seen. "Now we wait."

Two hours passed with no result. She paced back and forth, impatient. She stubbed out her cigarette. He wouldn't like her smoking, she thought. But then she stopped cold. Where did that come from? Why would I know that, and why would I care? She shuddered, but not from the cold. She looked out the window again. She could see the cars, but the men below, one in the lobby, one near the front door, one out back, covering the rear exit. There was no way he could escape. But why did that depress her, even a little. But it did. She hoped he wouldn't come and that he'd spend years in jail in equal but warring parts of her. She finally just wished it would all be over, one way of the other.

He sat in his house, drink in hand, flowing slowing back and forth over the clear ice. He had long ago given up trying to understand the Click. He had spent hours and hours over the years trying to understand what it was, and why it chose him, all without result. It had chosen him, or was a part of

him, and the rest didn't matter. It was like having freckles, or being left handed. It just was. May times he wished it would go as suddenly as it

came. It had its downsides, perhaps more severe than any benefit. It kept him from forming any lasting relationships. He couldn't imagine cheating on a spouse or girlfriend, but knew as long as the Click was there it was inevitable. Each time it happened, part of him seemed to flake away. He wondered what would happen when the last flake was gone. Would he die? Become impotent? Simply become a husk, like so many of the elder ones today? He had no idea, and no amount of soul searching produced any answers. He had hopes still of children, and idly wondered if having children might extinguish the Click. But he couldn't take the chance. The Click must be gone before he could have children. It wouldn't be fair otherwise. No that fairness seemed to matter much here. The smile playing across his face was fleeting, and bitter. Too much thought on this topic will make him crazy, he thought. Well, maybe crazier. Or sadder. Or older. Then why do it at all? Because it burned white hot? Because it made everything else pale beside it? Or because? That was it, wasn't it, after all? Just because. He had no choice.

He pulled over on the quiet street, just down from her block. He scanned the street for any signs of trouble, but could see none. He waited, patiently. If there was something there, he should spot it. He looked at the van, warily. A dry cleaning van shouldn't be there at this time of night, he thought. But he could detect no signs of life within. Should he scrub tonight? Part of him thought so, but that part lost the argument. It's just nerves, he thought. He breathed deeply, exhaled slowly, and stepped out of the car.