Secret to Bear

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

Secret to Bear copyright @ 2014 by Miriam Becker. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

SECRET TO BEAR

A chilling morning breeze tousled my hair and my skin clenched with
goosebumps. My nipples were feeling tight as I woke up, the tender flesh oddly sensitive as they poked out in the cool air. The world around me drifted slowly into focus, working its way through a hangover haze. Gritting my teeth I rubbed at my aching head with sticky fingers, craving a bottle of pain killers and slowly becoming aware of the raccoon sniffing at my face.

Sobriety sprang quickly from the depths of my tortured brain. My eyes grew wide with dismay as I stared at the animal’s inquisitive face. I squawked in surprise and the ‘coon scampered in panic, leaving me lying alone in the leaves and grass. Pushing myself up to a half-sitting position I stared around at the trees. Somewhere in the distance I could hear a gurgling brook over the rustling leaves and chirping birds. My insides twisted painfully as I looked down along my body—nude and blood-stained.

I struggled to my feet and stumbled awkwardly, probably still a bit drunk, before toppling weakly back to the ground and falling with exposed skin over rocks and small fallen branches.

My heart began racing in fearful confusion, and I forced my body back up onto my feet. There was a smothering sense of humiliating despair sitting in my gut as I stood there alone, lost, and naked, wrapping my arms around my shivering body to cover what I could. A chilling sense of detachment enveloped me as I stared down at my exposed form. My pale skin and light red wisps of blood were alien to me as they glistened, fully exposed in the morning sunlight. My eyes rose toward the sounds of fresh water and I cautiously followed after them.

Hot, scared tears started to tumble over my cheeks as I made my way down a small embankment to the brook, walking as gingerly as I could manage with bared feet. I stepped out onto slippery rocks in the cold water and squatted down like a little girl, hurrying to wash the blood off. My skin and muscles went numb from the icy water, but I clenched my teeth and went on. At last I stepped out of the stream, wet and shaking violently, but clean.

A thousand maddening thoughts swirled through my mind, but none of them made any sense. I searched my body to see where I was bleeding, but except for a couple of small scratches I couldn’t see anything wrong with me. I rubbed briskly at my arms, desperate to warm up, and at last hurried back up along the embankment and stood at the top, forcing myself to stop and listen.

Somewhere in the distance I heard a car passing and my heart leapt with encouragement. Maybe I was close to somewhere that I could get help.

As I scurried toward the sound, my feet quickly aching from stepping on small rocks, I was relieved to stumble across a narrow path. And there, pushed off into the bushes, I spotted my tattered clothes. Beneath my torn dress was my clutch, and I pawed hastily through it. It was all still there.

My dress and panties from the night before were shredded and useless. I held the remains of my outfit up over my breasts, but it didn’t cover much. My eyes searched the tall grasses just off of the trail, and I felt waves of relief when I found my shoes, both still in good shape. I slipped my feet into them, glad to have worn flats the night before.

Hurrying back along the trail I soon emerged behind an old brick building and made my way up through a dim alleyway. I peered out onto the street, my eyes quickly spotting my little blue car waiting for me along the curb. I yanked my keys from my clutch, waited behind a dumpster as a car cruised slowly past, then scurried naked to my car, my unfettered breasts swaying heavily back and forth with every step. In a minute I was driving with my tattered dress draped up over my shoulders and hanging down to barely conceal my nipples. Thank god Sunday morning traffic is so light.

As I pulled in behind my apartment building I took a deep breath and waited to be certain no one was around. Finally I raced from the car, my tattered dress tumbling from my shoulders in a gust of wind the instant I climbed out. Desperate to get inside I ignored it, my hands covering as much as they could, and burst into the entryway.

It was empty, and I sighed in relief. The idea of one of my neighbors spotting me there with my stripped and shivering skin exposed sent sickening, aching pain through my stomach.

I pressed the up button on the elevator. Holding one hand over my pussy and the other arm draped over my breasts I waited and listened to the carriage drop painfully slow to the first floor.

But the front door opened behind me before the elevator arrived, and I grimaced in horror. A rushing noise filled my ears as my brain screamed out that this wasn’t happening. The insistent denial only made it feel worse.

His heavy steps came up next to me and he stood calmly, quietly, waiting for the elevator. I saw him glance at the button to be sure it was lit, briefly at me, then back to the elevator doors. I turned and looked over at him through the corner of my eye. He looked back over to me and gave me a quick nod.

“Good morning, Jo,” he quipped. I had seen him around before, in the elevator. He lived on one of the floors above me. My gut knotted at the realization that I would likely see him again.

I gave him a puzzled, weak smile. “Hi Stan,” was all I managed to reply.

He looked up and down my quivering body. I let him, only because I didn’t know what else to do. “Rough night?” he asked.

I shrugged, my throat feeling suddenly parched. “Apparently. I don’t really remember. But the morning seems to be simply horrid.”

He grinned smugly. “Sunday morning is like that sometimes.”

The lump in my throat refused to go down, but I had little choice then but to step onto the elevator with Stan. It was better than waiting in the lobby for the elevator to come back down, hoping no one else came in and saw me naked as well. Stan let out a long, soothing sigh as we watched the doors shut.

“Which floor?” he asked with a strange calm as he pressed the button for his level.

My voice cracked as I tried to answer, and he glanced over at me expectantly as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Five.” I had to choke the word out.

Stan rocked back and forth on his heels, mostly ignoring me, as we rode up to my floor. The elevator stopped, the doors slid open, and I hurried out, not sure how to cover everything as I walked away from him. I opted to keep my pussy and breasts as concealed as I could, hoping that Stan wasn’t staring at my bare ass while I ran along the hall.

I stopped at my door and turned around to hide my backside. The elevator doors hadn’t closed yet and Stan was standing there, watching me with the same relaxed expression. I waited impatiently, sheepishly, holding my hands over myself as he watched. He gave a quick wave as the doors started to shut, and with a heaving relief I instinctively waved back.

I cringed and looked down at my exposed and erect nipples, the arm that had been covering them frozen in mid-wave, and listened to the elevator doors close. With a deep moan I rummaged through my clutch and found my keys. At last I burst into my apartment and slammed the door shut behind me.

I hurried to the bathroom and climbed into the shower. In a few minutes I was warm and clean, and had a chance to stop to think.

A woman wakes up bloody and naked in the woods after going to the bar the night before, finding her torn clothes not far away. The first thing that comes to mind is rape. The evening was a blur after some point, and I realized I could easily have been roofied. My stomach felt nauseous.

But I wasn’t cut, so the blood couldn’t have been my own. In fact, I wasn’t hurt at all. Not even my vagina or breasts were sore, which I would have expected following a rape. The events of the previous night remained a sinister mystery.

I pulled myself from the shower and dried off. A dark tension loomed and I couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom. And yet, other than finding myself naked in the woods, everything seemed strangely normal.

I made a large lunch for myself and sat alone to watch television as I ate, just as I always did. The simplicity of it all, the normalcy of my regular routine, it was all unbearably unnerving. Something horrifying had happened. I was certain of it, and my life should be in an uproar.

A shiver of dread rolled through me over and over again, my body shaking uncontrollably each time. I remained inside the entire day, eating and watching television, not paying much attention to either one.

***

When I woke up again it was in a sudden panic, but in my own bed. I took a long, deep breath to settle my nerves, then got up and dressed for work. As I pushed my way into the office I was instantly assaulted by the stench of pastries. It only took a second for me to spot the box of doughnuts on the front counter, and I crinkled my nose in disgust and hurried past.

“How was your weekend?” Samantha asked, her short blond hair bobbing as she walked into my office. I looked up at her, a bit stunned at the heavy scent that drifted from her.

“Uneventful,” I lied. “It was all television and popcorn. What about you?”

“I hung out with some friends Saturday night.” She was bubbling, and I dropped the folder I was holding to stop and stare at her.

“What about last night?” I pried. “Anything fun and interesting happen?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, but her face turned deep red. “Nothing much, really. I stayed in and read.”

She shifted her weight uncomfortably as I nodded. “You’re up for a promotion next month, right?” I recalled as the realization dawned on me. “Rebecca is deciding who will take John’s place as the new assistant office manager, if I remember right.”

Samantha sighed humbly. “I hope I get it,” she cooed. “I know it’s a long shot, but I have my fingers crossed.”

The sweaty smell of sex and Rebecca permeated from her warming skin. There was the definite odor of soap as well, but the distinctive pheromones still drenched her body. In the distance I could hear Rebecca laughing as she talked with one of the other employees. She sounded cheerful.

“I think you’ve got a pretty good chance,” I said with a grin. “It seems to me you’ve put in the time and gone the extra mile. Just keep me in mind on your rise to the top, okay?”

She gave a nervous, secretive giggle and bustled back out into the hall. Furrowing my brow I concentrated on the odd swirl of sensations that were enveloping me. Every sight, every sound, every horrible smell all filled the air in a puzzling mess that was somehow dauntingly… enlightening.

It was only about three in the afternoon when I left work. The overwhelming stench of my coworkers’ lunches practically drove me from the building. I stopped off to buy something for dinner at the grocery store on my way home, filling the shopping cart with the usual head of lettuce, tomatoes, and celery, all the while cringing with each wretched new smell that assaulted me. I hurried past the cleaner isle and grabbed some bread at the bakery. My list was checked off and I rushed toward the registers.

But I stopped as a delicious aroma filled my nostrils, drifting out from the back of the store. My stomach grumbled in sudden need and, curious, I followed the smell. The enticing scent of blood and raw meat rushed out to greet me, luring me within the refrigerated section. It stunned me as I grasped a large package of ground beef like it was the last food on earth and crammed it into the cart. It was all I could manage to contain the sudden driving hunger that swelled inside me, urging me to fill the cart with meat and blood.

Then the glistening salmon captured my undivided attention, and I felt as though I had never eaten before in my life. I growled low to myself, struggling desperately to control the instincts that drove me. But within minutes the store manager tossed me forcibly out when he caught me eating handfuls of raw salmon from the torn package, the juices spilling down from my chin and into the refrigerated bin.

I was still starved when I got home, but there was little more than some fruit and vegetables in the fridge. I picked up the phone and ordered a large pizza with all the meat toppings available. They didn’t have salmon.

As I set the phone down I stopped to listen. I could hear conversations down on the street, birds at the nearby park, and dogs yapping miles away. And even with the windows tightly closed the scents wriggled their way in. I could smell the perfume from a lady across the street, and the maddening scent of the hotdog stand further down the road. The breeze shifted, and suddenly the hotdog smell was unnerving. I needed meat—now.