05 Feb One Night Stand
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"One Night Stand"Written by J. Hyde
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Estimated reading time — 9 minutes
Firstly, I’d like to say that I don’t normally do this sort of thing. Taking women home from clubs or going home with them, as it was in my case. I’d always been the guy watching my friends pulling girls at the club, then I’d be the guy who’d have to sit in a 24-hour McDonalds while they were at home ‘hooking up’. They always tried to push me into doing the same by urging me to talk to a woman or trying to set me up, I don’t think they realized the extent of my anxiety when It comes to women. I would never have the nerves to do what they do every weekend. That is, until that night.
I’ve always believed in finding the one, my parents brought me up to value relationships over meaningless sex, which while sounding good on paper, put me at a big disadvantage once drinking and clubbing became the focus of our weekends. Couple that with the fact that at twenty-five years old I was still a virgin who couldn’t make a relationship last more than three months and you had a recipe for failure when it came to pulling any women. When I met her though, it was like everything just fell into place, it was like something out of an old romance novel.
I saw her at the bar and to this day I don’t think I’ve seen anyone look more beautiful than she did that night. She was pretty tall for a woman, with long blonde hair that flowed over her shoulders and down her back. Her eyes were a piercing blue and yet they weren’t the most notable thing about her face. I could have been wrong or far too drunk to properly notice but I’m sure she wasn’t wearing any makeup at all. That’s an unusual find at a nightclub but she didn’t look any worse for it. Quite the opposite actually, she radiated a kind of natural beauty that completely floored me. Add this to the plunging red dress she wore and naturally she caught me staring at her, slack-jawed.
I snapped my head away from her, but it was far too late. She, however, made an unprecedented move. Instead of glaring back at me or edging away in disgust, she began to approach me. I froze, what was I supposed to do about this? She came right up to me and moved her mouth nearer to my ear so she could speak to me over the noise. I stood stiffly, not allowing myself to move while she was this close. I half expected her to chew me out for staring or call me a pervert or something but she was full of surprises. She introduced herself and told me her name, well I say ‘told’. She had to shout it into my ear three times before it registered with my brain. Angelica. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more beautiful name.
Well after a fair amount of stammering and shouting I managed to convey my name to her in return, she laughed and told me that my name was ‘just a little bit shit’. Her laugh was a pleasant sound that complimented my own awkward one, I don’t think I’ve ever had a more perfect moment with anyone before. It’s a disappointing fact that I’d drank far too much before meeting her, as such I’m ashamed to say that I don’t remember much of our time at the club together. I remember telling my friends I’d have to ditch them tonight and them cheering raucously.
Angelica and I danced and laughed the hours away, only able to share brief moments of conversation between songs. We didn’t really have the chance to get to know each other but when the club closed and Angelica asked me to come home with her, I was filled with a bubbling confidence. It was a warm and fuzzy feeling that I’d never felt before or since. I agreed to go home with her despite the obvious red flags of not knowing anything about her or where she lived. I remember just waving away those worries, I was pretty sure my friends never worried about anything like that, I had an opportunity to be normal and if I didn’t take it then I’d be forever disappointed.
The walk to her apartment was inconveniently short, she lived just above Costa about four streets away. I’d hoped for a longer walk, on which I could regain my composure and get to know her better, and answer some of the questions that were screaming through my mind. Instead, I arrived at her apartment still half-drunk and totally vulnerable. I didn’t feel scared though, even when she locked the door behind me as I entered, because all the while she was giving me the most dazzling smile. Nothing horrible could have a smile like that. As I mentioned I was still utterly wankered so details were mostly elusive however the one thing I do remember as being strange was how untidy her front room was, it was an open plan kitchen-come-living room but there was no furniture or appliances in the kitchen that I could see. The only thing in that massive space was piles of clothes, not messy piles as if she was averse to doing laundry but neat little piles that were all equally spaced.
Each little pile had at the very least a shirt, trousers, socks, underwear and a pair of shoes. Some had jackets on top, some ties or waistcoats. One even had a toupee resting on the very peak. It struck me as odd not only that they were arranged like this but also because they were all men’s clothes. It was unlikely they were all hers so who’s were they? I was under no impression that I was the only man to ever be invited back by her but had she slept with all the owners of these clothes? What did they wear home? The questions were coming to me slowly, my mind wasn’t ready for them just yet and when I turned around to look at Angelica, they melted away completely.
She was stood right behind me and she was… well, naked. In the buff, not a stitch on her. I hadn’t expected things to move this fast so I’ll admit I was a little shocked and let out a small yelp. She just laughed, flashing me that brilliant smile as she leaned in towards my ear and whispered one word.
Now I don’t know if you’ve ever had a beautiful woman say that to you but I’ll tell you, nothing will ever make you move faster. Honestly, if my own child was being carried off by a bear I wouldn’t react as quickly as I did to that request. I dropped all of my clothes in a messy pile at my feet. I remember being afraid because it wasn’t as neat as the others but she didn’t seem to mind. What happened next, I’ll leave to your imagination but I will say it was nothing like I imagined it would be. I felt safe, totally and completely content with her. When we eventually retreated to her bedroom and collapsed on her bed, I found myself wondering if maybe I had found ‘The One’. If only this could be something more than just one night.
I woke up later, not knowing how much time had passed. It was still dark in the bedroom but strangely the room had no windows. I was cold and my head pounded too, the duvet I’d pulled over us was gone, as was Angelica. I went for my phone but obviously I didn’t have any pockets, I was naked. So, I got up off the bed and went into the lounge. I found my clothes but the pile had been neatened to match the others and as I fished in my jean’s pockets for my phone, I noticed something. Sewn into the waist of my jeans was a nametag with my name on it. I should probably point out I’m 25; I don’t sew my name into my clothes anymore. I searched the rest of the pile, my phone was nowhere to be found but each item of my clothing had a tag sewed into it, even the inside of my shoes. On a whim, I checked the other piles in case somehow my phone had fallen into one of those while I’d gotten undressed. All the clothes in each of the piles had the same nametags, the only difference being the names.
They swirled around my head as I read each one, then the questions started to come back to me only now I was in a better state to consider them. There was no way this many men had come here and just left their clothes behind. At the time I started to wonder if she had some sort of weird fetish, I wish that was all it was. By this point, I was suitably creeped out so I pulled my clothes back on and made for the door. My plan was just to slip out quietly and hope I never saw her again; a classic dickhead move I know but I just wanted out and the headache was more powerful than any feelings I’d had for her when I was drunk.
I couldn’t leave though; the door was locked and there weren’t really any obvious places that she could’ve put the keys. For the briefest of moments, I entertained the absurd idea of kicking her door in but a noise from the bedroom made me turn. I almost screamed. Poked around the bottom of the bedroom doorframe was Angelica’s face. It was twisted in a painfully wide smile that instantly seared into my mind like a brand. I’d never forget that face. I just stood there staring at her for a while, it briefly passed my mind that she might be playing a joke but as seconds turned to minutes, I began to fear her. Finally, she made the first move, a hand snaked out from behind her head and dangled a set of keys and then her hand and head both slipped back behind the doorframe.
That did it, she had to be playing a prank and, frankly, I really wasn’t in the mood. I walked over to her bedroom and entered. She was nowhere to be seen but I’d played these games of hide and seek before. I knelt down and looked under the bed, there she was smiling up at me only now there was a knife in her teeth. This was a disturbing development but the keys were just in front of her face, gently I reached for them. At first, she didn’t move but as my hand got closer, she shot hers out to grab the keys. I was faster. I grabbed them and ran for the front door; I was practically home free but suddenly my left leg just gave way and I fell forwards onto my face. I looked at my leg and the knife that was sticking out of the back of it. Then I saw her coming, scuttling across the floor towards me like some grotesque insect
The bathroom was on my immediate left so with some effort I crawled inside and slammed the door shut with my good leg, bracing my foot against it to stop her entering. Angelica started to bang on the door, all the while letting out these primal moans that chilled me right to the bone. I desperately scanned the bathroom for something I could use but what I found instead was shelves covered in jar after jar. They were all full of some kind of yellow liquid and floating in it was various body parts. These jars were labeled with the same font as the clothes outside. I recognized some of the names.
Each jar was like a trophy, showing off the best aspect of every man’s appearance. It was sickening, each one pickled and preserved. I didn’t even want to know what had happened to the men the parts belonged to. I imagined each one also trapped in here just like me looking at the jars, just before they became part of the collection.
A scream rang out and the resistance on the door stopped. Cautiously I cracked it open a little and peeked out. Angelica was lying on the floor and blood was pooling on the floor around her. I crawled over, dragging my leg behind. She had multiple cuts across her arms and torso and she was in the process of driving the blade into one of her breasts. It was like a scene from a horror film. I grabbed the knife and took it off her just as the door behind me crashed open and I was grabbed roughly from behind. Something sharp jutted into my side and I passed out.
I woke up later at a police station, the last few days I’ve been here while the police have been building a case against me. The story they have is that they were called by Angelica with a report of domestic violence. When they arrived, they assumed I was stabbing her with the knife and took me down. She later weakly agreed to that version of events from her hospital bed. I was questioned and I couldn’t believe the situation that was unfolding. I told them to check her bathroom where they’d find evidence that Angelica was clearly violent and insane. They said they had an officer check the scene on the night, there had been nothing in the bathroom out of the ordinary. I tried to get them interested in the piles of clothes but I couldn’t link them to her in any helpful way without the body parts. It’s not a crime to sleep with a lot of men and organize their clothes.
The way it’s looking at the moment, I could be going away for attempted murder. This is the last hope, but not for me. I’m still under arrest but they were inclined to tell me that Angelica was found to be pregnant while at the hospital, with my child. That freak is going to have my baby. I can’t let it fall into her hands and behind bars. With a violent criminal record, I will never stand a chance of getting custody. I need this story to get out and circulate. I’m innocent, and if I can prove it, I can save another innocent from her evil. It could have been any of your loved ones in those jars.
I still try my hardest to remember all the names.
If you know anything about her, or have suffered in the same way, then please get in contact with me or my lawyer. I need help…
🔔 More stories from author: J. Hyde
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