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Finally off to college! A time for excitement and fun and being free!
That is, of course, assuming you aren't stalked by a stranger!
Follow Anja as she tells you from her point of view about her experience as a freshman in college, stalked by a handsome stranger with a possessive streak! View table of contents...


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Submitted:May 6, 2013    Reads: 9    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   

He came to watch my dance class for our "exams", which was really just to perform the solo pieces we'd been practicing for this half of the semester in front of a small crowd of peers, the instructors, and a few students. I knew he was there in the back even before I stepped on the stage and spotted that thick blonde hair of his. Grinning like a fool, I slid into my starting pose.

My song started to play, and with my body and my expression, I told the story of a music box ballerina longing to be free. It was fairly short for a solo, but my instructor had complimented it several times for how powerful such simple and forlorn movements looked on me. At the end, I was supposed to land in an arabesque and freeze, the ballerina locked back on the box, but I changed my mind at the last moment. My body moved on its own, arm stretching out while lowering into a kneeling position, my gaze moving past my fingers to land on those eyes I was coming to know so well, pleased to see the surprise in his expression.

There was silence for a moment, then everyone burst into applause, and even my instructor stood as she clapped. She was difficult to impress, but she had tears in her eyes as well as a huge grin on her lips. For once, I wasn't looking at anyone from my class. I wasn't worried what they thought. His gaze was burning me, boiling my blood in my veins.

I must have looked more flushed than I thought, because the instructor took my arm and gently ushered me back to the dressing room to rest and get some water. I had gone second out of seventeen dancers, so I had plenty of time to sit and relax… Or plenty of time to be startled by the sudden appearance of arms around my shoulders, one hand grabbing my chin and turning my head to the side. Mystery Stalker was there, smirking as his lips brushed against mine. He tasted like warm, melted chocolate, and I wondered idly if he'd eaten it just for this kiss.

Somewhere between the third and fourth performances, he had lifted me off the bench and pinned my back to the lockers, my right leg wrapped around his waist and his hands running up and down my sides until I shivered. He was forceful, tongue invading my mouth and claiming it, hands gripping my thighs and lifting my feet off the floor so I was helplessly trapped between his chest and the lockers. I really, really liked it.

Part of my brain expected him to peel off my leotard and try to take more of me, but he never pushed it, though his hands did cup my rear to keep me from falling. Despite all his possessiveness, despite how dominant he was, he seemed almost afraid to force more from me than I was willing to give.

The final song ended with a round of applause and he finally released me, gently setting me back on my feet, then he kissed my forehead like the first time he had me so close. "I'll see you tonight, my love. Go, enjoy your freedom now." He gave my butt a playful pat, then he was gone from the locker room before I had time to cool the blush on my cheeks.

I could still taste his mouth for hours afterwards.

I think I could grow to like the taste of chocolate.


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