WHO FOLLOWS: a gripping, dramatic, intense and suspenseful thriller Read Online Free Page A
Author: Diane M Dickson
with carrot sticks. Flowers cascade in colourful abandon from vases on the side tables and my room is shadowed and charming with the small lights turned on and the curtains closed. I love my home and have spent many hours and much money on the gathering of things and the decoration. Normally it is a source of great pride but tonight I see only the faults. There are stains on the wall near the door, the result of damp umbrellas leaning there. There is a crack on one of the kitchen tiles which I have never been able to have repaired. These small things bother me occasionally but tonight they have assumed huge importance. Her life is after all made up of decoration and beautification.
The times that she has visited, since the first time when she made coffee, she has merely rung the bell and I have been ready, waiting for her in a fever of anticipation and so we have left with only a momentary greeting. There is sound reason for this. I don’t think I can trust myself alone in my home with her. I have no confidence in my ability to hold my tongue and not blurt out my feelings and my desires. It has been too soon I know and so I have avoided a situation that would lead me astray and cause untimely action.
Now I am ready, the time has come. I can wait no longer. I have no way to gauge what her reactions and indeed her actions will be. I know that she was married but she has shown great affection for me and often hugs and kisses me. She is naturally a very tactile person, to my continuous delight I admit. Anyway I have made the decision, tonight I will lay my cards on the table. I will admit my total devotion to her and if I judge that it is time to progress my case I will suggest that we take our relationship to another level. It is dangerous, it is nerve-wracking and it is an end game for I will have her and tonight will decide how and when that will happen.
The time approaches, the clock chimes six and I hear her great car pull in to the kerb. I hear the click clack of her heels on my path. There it is, the chime of the doorbell. I throw my apron onto the worktop. I check my appearance in the hall mirror.
“Welcome my dear, welcome.” A short peck on the cheek.
“Some wine, I hope it will suit what we are eating.”
“Perfect, quite perfect. Come in, here let me take your coat.”
I lock the door and take the key and slip it into the little wooden drawer, she doesn’t see. She walks before me down the dimly lit hall.
Chapter 12
Well, I don’t know, I just don’t know. I had thought deeply about how the evening might progress. It is my own fault I know, but how was I to help it? Such hopes had bloomed as I planned and prepared. It is too soon, I see that now, but how deep is this disappointment?
In my mind I had foreseen a pleasant evening leading to my declaration and her happy, happy acceptance. Perhaps talk of the future, at the least a deepening of our connection.
It began well, the food was – adequate – the atmosphere convivial and intimate. Music filled the quiet moments. Hannah truly did seem to enjoy what she ate and she is a delightful table companion. My standards are high, there is a correct way to behave at table and though there are a few rough edges there she performed well. I can polish and hone her until our future meals together will be the delight I have missed for so long.
Perhaps it has been too long, perhaps my voluntary solitude has made me too friable, too intense. I never expected that she would stay the night, of course not. Indeed it would have been in some way a disappointment, an indication of looser morals than I would hope for.
The last years have been difficult, I have needed to work so very hard. Maria, how you still hurt me. True, it hasn’t always been so very near to the forefront of my mind but it is there, like a miasma hidden in the more solid everyday. I try to hold it back, I keep busy, physical activity is often the answer.
I take other precautions as well.
The times that she has visited, since the first time when she made coffee, she has merely rung the bell and I have been ready, waiting for her in a fever of anticipation and so we have left with only a momentary greeting. There is sound reason for this. I don’t think I can trust myself alone in my home with her. I have no confidence in my ability to hold my tongue and not blurt out my feelings and my desires. It has been too soon I know and so I have avoided a situation that would lead me astray and cause untimely action.
Now I am ready, the time has come. I can wait no longer. I have no way to gauge what her reactions and indeed her actions will be. I know that she was married but she has shown great affection for me and often hugs and kisses me. She is naturally a very tactile person, to my continuous delight I admit. Anyway I have made the decision, tonight I will lay my cards on the table. I will admit my total devotion to her and if I judge that it is time to progress my case I will suggest that we take our relationship to another level. It is dangerous, it is nerve-wracking and it is an end game for I will have her and tonight will decide how and when that will happen.
The time approaches, the clock chimes six and I hear her great car pull in to the kerb. I hear the click clack of her heels on my path. There it is, the chime of the doorbell. I throw my apron onto the worktop. I check my appearance in the hall mirror.
“Welcome my dear, welcome.” A short peck on the cheek.
“Some wine, I hope it will suit what we are eating.”
“Perfect, quite perfect. Come in, here let me take your coat.”
I lock the door and take the key and slip it into the little wooden drawer, she doesn’t see. She walks before me down the dimly lit hall.
Chapter 12
Well, I don’t know, I just don’t know. I had thought deeply about how the evening might progress. It is my own fault I know, but how was I to help it? Such hopes had bloomed as I planned and prepared. It is too soon, I see that now, but how deep is this disappointment?
In my mind I had foreseen a pleasant evening leading to my declaration and her happy, happy acceptance. Perhaps talk of the future, at the least a deepening of our connection.
It began well, the food was – adequate – the atmosphere convivial and intimate. Music filled the quiet moments. Hannah truly did seem to enjoy what she ate and she is a delightful table companion. My standards are high, there is a correct way to behave at table and though there are a few rough edges there she performed well. I can polish and hone her until our future meals together will be the delight I have missed for so long.
Perhaps it has been too long, perhaps my voluntary solitude has made me too friable, too intense. I never expected that she would stay the night, of course not. Indeed it would have been in some way a disappointment, an indication of looser morals than I would hope for.
The last years have been difficult, I have needed to work so very hard. Maria, how you still hurt me. True, it hasn’t always been so very near to the forefront of my mind but it is there, like a miasma hidden in the more solid everyday. I try to hold it back, I keep busy, physical activity is often the answer.
I take other precautions as well.
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