Night Vision – Pt.4

All day, I simultaneously felt like a live wire and a car running on fumes. No fewer than three colleagues remarked (nicely) that I looked like I hadn’t gotten enough sleep and that I also should’ve forgone that fifth shot of espresso for breakfast that gave my eyes their quasi-manic hyper-awake gleam out of their bruised-looking sockets. I laughed it away with that trademark faux cheer – haha, y’know how it is, sleeping in strange beds, haha, all that excitement for the day to come, canoeing, biking, PowerPoint presentations from corporate stooges, so exciting, exciting! – and tried to twitch a little less obviously.But twitch I did. All damn day. Especially in my panties, but then also in my entire lower belly, and in my nipples, and on my ass – even the lips of my mouth were hypersensitive all day, to the point that eating the chocolate mousse that was served for dessert became an almost sexual experience. The coolness and the fluffy texture of the treat in and around my mouth… the slippery kiss of the small spoon… the way that it all melted on my tongue… I faked a cough attack just to have a good explanation for the redness of my face and pressed my thighs together hard underneath the table.And here I am, still twitching – and wide awake despite my acute lack of sleep – as midnight creeps closer. I toss and turn in my bed, hyper-aware of the still-unfamiliar weight and smell of the duvet (some sort of wool filling) and of the ebbing noises of my colleagues around me.And of the silence and blackness of my phone in my hand.The screen shows the conversation with Mr. Unknown.The last message reads I’ll see you again tonight, Missy.Three lines above that: You will ask me nicely.The cursor blinks balefully at me from my empty text field.I put my phone, screen-down, next to my pillow and enjoy the absence of its pale blue glow for a second. My eyes are stinging from all the sweating, the warm summer air, the staring at projection screens, and from not having gotten enough sleep the previous night. I rub them with my forefinger and thumb.Perhaps I should put on my mask and…I grab my phone again, Fikirtepe escort bayan hammer in the passcode, and stare at the digital clock – 0:14, it reads – and then at the string of messages for another long minute.“I have no choice,” I whisper noiselessly to myself. “No choice.”I’ve done wrong, and I want to suffer for my sins…And then I type.[Missy: U win][Missy: What do u want]The answer comes after a long, tense minute.[Unknown: Don’t be petulant now, Missy.][Unknown: I want the same thing that you want.]I glower and consider sending him some expressive emojis. (The thought of the eggplant makes my muscles clench.)[Unknown: But given that you did not, in fact, ask nicely][Unknown: and that you kept me waiting half the night][Unknown: I think some punishment might be in order.][Missy: no please] [Missy: im sorry!!!]And I am. I’m queasy with sudden anxiety. Punishment? Is he going to send my picture…? To whom? My brain spins – he knows my name; he knows what company I work for. He could easily find my address. And then my parents’ contacts. They’re very conservative; seeing me like this would destroy them! Or maybe he wants money? But-but I don’t really have-[Unknown: Not yet you aren’t.][Unknown: Get your earbuds out. Plug them in.]Earbuds. Earbuds. Oh god, what would I need earbuds for? I dive for the handbag that’s leaning against my nightstand and dig for the cable. I find it – knotted all to hell. No time. I pull it apart rather roughly, then jam the jack into my phone.I’m in the middle of composing a pleading message – something along the lines of “I’m doing what you want, please don’t publish my nude photo” when the next message arrives.[Unknown: Take off your clothes.][Unknown: All of them.][Unknown: Put them next to you on the bed.][Unknown: Lay them out so that they can be seen properly.]I’m immediately, heatedly, perspiringly, heart-throbbingly aware again of just how many other people are in the room with me: in close proximity, next to me, right behind an artisanal divider draped with some summer clothes, in front and behind Escort Sancaktepe me, barely hidden by gently wafting curtains. So many of them. I have barely learned all their names, can barely recall their faces – and imagine what those faces might look like when they walk past my bed and see my panties put on display there.Julian would titter like he always does. Hayley would scoff and call me a slut. Patrick might steal my shirt, entertained by the idea that I might run around with my tits out.All of their gazes would be heated.“I have no choice,” I repeat breathlessly to myself like a mantra and get under the blanket – I pull it all the way up over my face to hide – then take off my clothes. Gauzy nightshirt, silky undershirt with the little built-in bra, teal cotton panties. I try to hide the wet spot when I put them down on the bed. The feeling of the duvet against every inch of my exposed skin makes me prickle all over.I fumble for the phone again, suddenly aware of how bright the screen is even at the lowest setting. I feel that too much of my chest is illuminated by it like there’s a spotlight on my décolleté. [Missy: now what]Half a minute passes, then a link to a sound-file sharing website appears. I tap it and my browser opens to a simple music player and an audio file that’s displayed lengthwise in a waveform. There’s a big ‘play’ button and a volume control switch, that’s it. As I watch, the file starts to play, the first pixels of the waveform turning from light to dark gray.[Unknown: Put in the earbuds.]Just to be safe, I pull the volume down to 1%, put the earbuds in, then slowly increase the loudness until I can hear something.There’s the soft rush of wind… and then breathing… panting…It’s me again. It’s the file he made of me last night again. I shiver.[Unknown: You won’t take the earbuds out again until the end of the file.][Unknown: You won’t pause the file or skip anything.][Unknown: I will know if you do.][Unknown: Once you’ve listened to the end, you will go to sleep.]I’ve done wrong, and I want to suffer for my sins…[Missy: üsküdar escort ok]The audio in my ears picks up. I can make out the shape of words in the shuddering of the breaths. ‘Please.’ ‘Deeper’. ‘More.’“Oh, god,” I hush and inhale shakily. My neck prickles with goosebumps.The person with the unknown number is typing again. I watch the dots appear and disappear with trepidation.[Unknown: Tonight, you won’t get to touch any part of your body][Unknown: that’s hidden underneath your blanket.]My middle clenches in disappointment, and anticipation, and from the sickening thrill of the notion-There are new sounds laid over my silent pleas. Deeper breathing, lower whimpers, and the… the slide of a palm against lubricated flesh. Unmistakably a man, masturbating.[Unknown: A couple of your colleagues will be heading out for their night walk soon.][Unknown: Maybe they’ll all hurry?]He sends me a winking emoji. I look around me, seeing nothing but gently wafting curtains in the muted light of the dormitory hall, and Koryn and Andrea to my left and right. I don’t know if either of them will be joining the night walk.And I don’t know if I dread it or… [Unknown: Put your mask on and lie down now.][Unknown: You know what to do.][Unknown: And what not to do.][Unknown: Have a good night, Missy.]In a daze, I lay down my phone after the screen fades – the recording keeps playing regardless – then pick up my sleep mask and slide it over my hair and onto my face. The tight fabric presses the earbuds somewhat uncomfortably into my ear canals at first, but the feeling fades quickly. My attention is already entirely elsewhere.As the mask steals my sense of sight, the volume of the edited recording grows exponentially until the hush of breathing and the slick-slick-slick of someone – Mr. Unknown himself? – jerking a stiff cock fills out my entire head. I open my eyes to the utter darkness of my mask and can’t escape the mental pictures.Me, on my bed. Him, on his. Perhaps me in number twenty-four, him in number fourteen, right behind the curtain? Maybe in a bunk bed, him on top, feeling the frame of it shudder with the other one’s increasingly frantic movements? Or maybe we’re not hidden at all… maybe I’m in my cubicle and he’s in his, and we’re both working overtime, two people alone in a cube farm office, surreptitiously masturbating to the sound of the other one masturbating, each thinking themselves so stealthy and clever…