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The date was less than memorable he had been a total dud. She hadn't even wanted to go out with him. The date was a set up by a friend wanting to get her out of her doldrums. Bored to tears as she was forced to listen to him drone on about his business aptitudes, his skillfulness extracting himself from unwanted romantic entanglements and his expertise at 'pleasing' women. Barbara couldn't get away from him fast enough. At her door, he asked to come in and she gave a white lie about having to get up early and thin walls. Being so impressed with himself, he suggested they go to his apartment – to which she pointed out it didn't help her be rested for her test in the morning.
He leaned in to kiss her and she deftly turned her head at the last moment so he could kiss her cheek. She skillfully deflected his unwanted attention. Finally, he got the message. Shrugging his shoulders, he turned walking away while throwing his hands in the air, "fine you have a plain fucking face if your tits weren't big you wouldn't be worth trying to fuck. Stuck up tease!" He slammed the door to his Maserati and drove off into the night.
Barbara pushed the door closed, locked it, and pushed the night latch closed. Turning she lay back against the rough wood of the door, let out a long sigh and tucked her face down, chin resting on her body. He was right, she had a less than everyday face, bordering on ugly. Her face was long, horse-like, her nose was enormous. Her looks had always been an irritation to her. She hated the way she looked and she didn't trust anyone that showed an interest in her. There had to be something wrong with someone that liked her!
In truth, Barbara Nash wasn't particularly interested in men, nor was she drawn to women. She had always preferred her own company to that of others. She had never masturbated, never fantasized and never had sex. She didn't need sex in her life. She researched it and discovered she was what was known as asexual. Not like in you have sex with yourself and divide to make more of you. It is that you have no interest in sex, it isn't common but not as uncommon as one might think.
Running the bath water the sound of the water filling the ratty old tub pleased her, after all the simple pleasures are the best. Walking into her bedroom, she took her clothes off, folded them, and laid them in the hamper. Finally, she stripped out of her underwear and put them in the second basket also folded neatly. Walking back into the bathroom, she shut the water off. Looking over at the sink, she saw the mirror. She noticed it was steamed up, pulling a washcloth and towel from the linen closet she turned and moved to the sink. Dropping the towel in easy reach of the tub, Barbara turned to the mirror rag in hand. Scrawled in the center of the mirror was a word – the most repugnant word she knew – 'CUNT' – shock filled her.
Looking around, she picked up her towel and covered herself with it. She walked through the apartment, but it was empty. She grabbed the big recliner and shoved it in front of the door, pushing it firmly against it. Returning to the bathroom, she dropped the towel in front of the tub and squatted down on the toilet. In a moment, there was the pleasure of release as a stream of piss vacated her bladder. She dabbed herself with a tissue and let it fall into the bowl. She closed her eyes wondering why the word appeared in the mirror. They must have done maintenance today and that pig of a handyman had scribbled it there with his greasy fingers. When the condensation formed, the terrible appellation appeared on the glass. Yes, that was it – nothing sinister just a dirty man playing a joke. The room grew cold for a second and her hair over her ear moved away then fell back. It was like an unseen hand moved across her dirty blonde tresses. An unsettling feeling passed over her and she turned looking around, no one there. Nerves just nerves setting her off that was all.
She flushed the commode and then sank in the hot water. Oh, god that felt so good. She lay back in the water and let the warmth flood her. She hated cold weather, this bath would warm her up good. Laying back the tension brought on by the whole ordeal of the 'date' began to slip away. Her stomach unknotted as her shoulders relaxed while the near constant pain in her back from carrying her breast eased. Big boobs were not much fun! Slowly small aches and pains that she had, mostly from her anticipation and worry about the date, melted away. Her head bobbed and she would jerk upright and Barbara would again relax and allow sleep to try to overtake her again.
That feels strange, her legs moved apart the passage of coolness over her private region was unexpected, it almost felt like – fingers! She stood up and looked around as the water cascaded off her body. Bending down she reached down to the floor grabbing the towel. That was strange, she really thought she had felt fingers touching her, stimulating around her clit, investigating the fleshy landscape of her lips and poking inside her. She had been just dozing off when it happened and she chalked it up to a waking dream. She patted the towel over her wet body as she stepped out of the tub. She slowly dried herself. She thought of a movie she had seen where a woman became aroused while drying herself. What twaddle she thought. Tucking the towel around her breasts then Barbara reached down and pulled the plug on the drain. She was still uneasy, the odd occurrences of the night were quite unnerving. She pulled a pajama top on and removed the towel, buttoned it up and then pulled fresh panties on. Finally, Barbara wiggled into her tight PJ bottoms.
The room felt icy cold. Barbara walked out and turned the heat up. Cold air puffed over an ear and a sharp tingle ran down her spine. Barbara peeked over to her apartment door and saw the chair was still firmly against the rough wood of the door. She plopped down on the love seat, turned on the TV and mindlessly flipped through channels. She started watching some old movie, but the black and white picture seemed dull and lifeless. It was all about a pilot who died and came back in the body of someone else. She just couldn't get into it so she turned it off. She picked up a book and walked back to the bedroom. Her small twin bed seemed so comfy and warm she read for a few minutes under the covers her pillows propped against the wall. Her head again was bobbing and Barbara struggled to concentrate. Marking her spot in the book she turned off the lamp and pulled the covers up around her.
Laying on her side soon, she was sleeping soundly. Deep asleep she dreamed, but it was not a pleasant dream it was a dream of trying to get comfortable and sleep. Peculiarly, she realized it was a dream. An unseen hand would push her here or there and her body would move accordingly. A hand touched her hair and moved it off her face. A finger traced down her forehead, the cold finger descended her nose glided over the midline, and lastly over the lips. Teasingly the finger moved from the center of the mouth to one corner, retraced back across the lips to the other, and returned to the middle of the mouth. The finger pressed on her lips and Barbara opened her lips slightly, the cold finger moved in and out of her mouth in slow sensuous tease. Spittle built in her mouth then dribbled out and down her chin. The hand pushed her shoulder hard Barbara resisted then upon further instance she rolled onto her back. The covers were thrown off her. She dreamed on – but dream devoid of images only feelings. It didn't dawn on her unconscious mind you don't feel things in dreams.
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