He’d also told her how many days she had left to live, as if that mattered much to her now that Angie was gone. He’d just told her how many days she had left to deal with the torture and the pain before she could be gone from here, a blessing really. Because knowing was always so much better than not. Then he’d left her, after taking his blasted pictures, some with her legs splayed wide, and showing the trails of bloody semen coming from her. She’d hated those photos, knowing that people would be seeing the most intimate and grisly details of his abuse. But he was gone now, leaving her to cry out the pain of her rape and Angie’s death. He hadn’t gagged her again, nor had he blindfolded her. Instead, he turned off the lights at the top of the steps, leaving her in the almost complete blackness of the basement. But as the darkness had grown familiar, she’d noted a small line of light at the top of the steps and two little pin point red dots that spoke of something electrical across the. “Yeah. I guess I’m just not used to it.”“It’s because normally – except for taking a shower – when you’re naked, you either have sex or jerk off, so your body just thinks that’s what’s going to happen,” Diana explained.Hearing Diana speak so openly about my masturbation – as if she knew how frequently I jerked off – was enough to make my dick twitch, but I tried to act casual. “I guess you’re right.”“Don’t worry, after a while, you’ll get used to it and then you won’t get hard so easily.” She sipped her beer, unabashed of her nudity. I tried to do the same, but still felt like my penis was too distracting.“So what’s with you and Sonia?” Diana asked me. “She tells me you guys are into voyeurism?”I stuttered: “Uh…how’s that?”“Sonia told me about your neighbor Phil,” Diana admitted. Phil was my neighbor across the street. I had once come home and seen him at his window with binoculars peeping on Sonia. Phil never knew we were onto him, but we gave him a show once in a while: sometimes.
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