It’s a small relief compared to not knowing why Penelope ran like she did, and I’m swift to make sure we keep up with her cab.
Eager to race over to her once it stops out in front of a shitty looking diner, but I don’t want to scare her off.
I stare in silence as I watch her let herself in through a side door of the building. Her boss staying in the cab as it peels away from the sidewalk.
A light flickers to life upstairs after a few minutes, and I realize that this is where Penelope must call home.
Recalling how she mentioned her boss. Mentioned one of her jobs…
I swallow hard, my mouth dry.
There was a time in my life when I had nothing. And seeing that pale, lonely light in what I can see is a single room, I promise Penelope she won’t know hardship for much longer.
Not if I can help it.
“You want me to wait?” John whispers, somehow aware of the entire situation without me saying a word.
I shake my head in the negative once I see her light go out.
“No thank you, John. If you could take me to my hotel, I’ll be sure you get paid and you can get back to your original passengers.”
He looks at me in the rearview mirror.
Something about limo drivers.
They always know when to say something and when to stay quiet, but there’s a familiar look in his eyes now.
“I meant what I said about selfies and autographs too.” I smile.
Now I know where Penelope lives, I can at least keep an eye on her.
With John, the limo driver sorted with a wad of cash courtesy of the front desk, and enough selfies of me with John to convince anyone we might be a couple, he’s on his way.
And I’m on my way, straight back to Penelope’s once I have the hotel loan me a car to drive there myself.
I park across the street, and killing the engine I keep my eyes glued to her window.
What would usually be a noisy, busy street is pretty quiet for a Friday, with only the occasional car and passerby walking right past me.
I haven’t felt so normal for ages.
Being able to go out in public and not be recognized?
It’s a great feeling.
Okay, so I’m crumpled up in a tiny car late at night, but it’s still freeing for me.
It’d be better still if I knew why Penelope just took off like that.
After my eyes burn from staring, I figure she’s doing what I should be: sleeping.
But not wanting to leave her alone for another minute, I’m determined to stay put and spend my time browsing any social platform for her profile.
Not a lot comes up.
I know I have people to manage my social media image as well as stage presence, but a girl like Penelope?
I’m surprised to see she almost doesn’t exist online.
One profile with her name is linked to a newspaper.
The other to a college science department, with none of them having a photo of her, so it could just be a coincidence.
But I can’t just sit here…
A little more digging, and the website for the national paper shows her name on a list of interns, with a photo of her too that I saved without even having to think about it.
I don’t get it though.
She lives above the shitty diner and is an intern at a major newspaper…
We were getting on fine until the audience plant showed up.
Better than fine. I almost kissed her.
Groaning a sigh, I can feel my dick springing to life at the thought of her lips.
My need for her returning with a vengeance.
Friday night turns into the early hours of Saturday morning.
I’ve been handcuffed and folded up in more comfortable situations than this damned car, but it’s better than nothing.
When morning comes, I’ll decide whether I want to head into the diner, acting surprised when I see her. Or do I need to handle this whole situation a little more carefully?
Going off half-cocked won’t work if Penelope’s the type to run.
I need to find out what set her off though but more importantly, I need to get Penelope alone again.
You need a fucking shower and a change of clothes.
Checking my face in the tiny rearview mirror, I wince.
I look like hell.
Caught between my head and my heart and my still-aching crotch, my mind is made up for me once I see Penelope dashing out the door of the diner.
She’s wearing what she had on last night, only a different blouse under her cardigan.
That same skirt showing just enough of her smooth, thick thighs to make my cock twitch like it’s having a fucking seizure.
The sight of her first thing is enough to take my breath away, and I struggle to cope with my morning wood as well as the urge to swing the car around and ask if she needs a ride.