An Obsessed Novella
Genre: Contemporary, Erotic Romance/Erotica, BDSM, M/F
Series: The Obsessed Novellas
The books in this series are all standalones
This isn’t just a love story, it’s an obsession…
The same week every year he comes to my little resort in Maine for five days, then disappears. His darkness, his demons, intrigue me and I need to know his story.
I hope he shows up again this year, because I’m determined to talk to him, make him see me and not look through me like I don’t exist. Make him realize I’m not just some anonymous person who hands him a key.
No, this year will be different.
I haven’t gotten laid in a long time. So, tag, he’s it.
For the past three years, I’ve come up to this remote area to forget, to bury my grief. But this year, I don’t need a trip to this run-down resort, this little cabin on the lake, to survive this week. However, there’s one thing I’ve left behind each year when I head back to reality…
I’ve found the right woman who’ll fill the emptiness deep inside of me, the hole that’s lurked there for years. I can’t get her out of my head. Funny thing is, I don’t even know her name. I never asked.
This year that’s going to change. And I hope she’s willing because I’m taking complete control.
Note: All books in the Obsessed series are stand-alone novellas. It is intended for audiences over 18 years of age since it includes explicit sexual situations, including BDSM.
Every year he shows up. He comes for five days and then disappears. Same week, every year, for the past three years. Arrives on a Sunday night and leaves Friday morning.
He hardly says a word to me. He picks up the keys to his cabin with a couple grunts, then locks himself in for the duration. I don’t know if he sleeps, eats or what. All I know is I’m not to disturb him in any fashion. He made that perfectly clear in a surly manner the first year.
I’m just glad I have an occupant. He never quibbles about the price of the cabin, never asks me for anything. Never complains.
The best part is, he comes during the off season when it’s so slow I think I'll become destitute. Be homeless and starve.
But, I watch him. He intrigues me and I want to know his story. Why this small town in Maine? Why this time of year?
And, last but not least, why is my tired little lakeside resort his choice? Yes, the area is beautiful, but it’s remote. Though, it’s not like he goes out hiking, or mountain biking, or even boating on the large lake.
Maybe that’s what he needs. Quiet. Peace.
Me? I get too much peace and quiet. This town bores me to death. Anyone with any ambition escapes as soon as they can.
Though, I can’t get myself to run away. I can’t even walk away.
This was my father’s resort. When he died, he left it to his only daughter. Hell, his only child. He took pride in this place, he built it with his own hands. So, of course, I take pride in it, too.
Even though it bores the fuck out of me.
And the dating scene?
Non-existent. If I’m lucky, I get laid when tourists come to moose watch in the summer. If I’m lucky, I get laid when the snowmobilers blow into town and take over the frozen lake and the nearby trails. If I’m lucky, I get laid when mountain bikers come and ride through the woods when the leaves are changing colors.
But, let’s just say, I haven’t been very lucky lately. Not in a long time. I swear I’ve converted back to a virgin, if that’s even possible.
Fortunately, I’m not uptight and can take care of my own needs. Though, that gets lonely and boring, too. Batteries and my vibrators have become my best friends.
Honestly, I really just need to get the fuck out of this town.
I sigh and look at my reservation book. Yes, book, because even the Internet sucks up here. And cell towers? Yeah, right. You may get a signal if you stand on your head and face North while singing Yankee Doodle Dandy.
Every cabin is still equipped with landline phones and the only television comes from a satellite dish, which only works when it isn’t cloudy, raining, snowing, or the birds aren’t chirping.
My heart races as I see his name written in my unreadable scribble. But, I know it’s him. I’ve reserved his regular cabin.
Not that any of the other cabins are booked since it’s the shoulder season. No one in their right mind is here. The leaves are now brown and falling, the lake too cold to swim in, but too warm for winter activities.
He made his reservation for this year before he left last year.
I hope he shows. Even at the deep discounted rate I’ve given him for coming at this time of year, every penny counts.
That's not the only reason I hope he comes. No, this year I’m determined to talk to him, make him see me, and not look completely through me like I don’t exist. Make him realize I’m not just some anonymous person who hands him a key and makes him sign a receipt.
No, this year it’s going to be different.
I haven’t gotten laid in a long time.
So, tag. He’s it.
© Jeanne St. James