Free DangeroustoKnow by Lily Harlem

Chapter One
     
    Peering through binoculars, I cursed the spring growth on
the trees below my apartment. Most New Yorkers enjoyed the onset of the warmer
seasons, but for me these burgeoning leaves were a hindrance to viewing the man
at the center of my dark obsession.
    I didn’t know his name, or even what his voice sounded like.
All I knew was that he spent a lot of time hanging out in the small park eighty
feet below my window. Most often he was alone, moving his thumb over his iPhone
or reading a newspaper, but occasionally he met people. Other men, men who
looked decidedly shifty, a bit like him, men whom I wouldn’t want to run into
in a dark alley—or maybe I would.
    He’d sometimes talk on the phone, his hands shoved deep into
his jean pockets. Occasionally he frowned and gnawed at the inside of his cheek
as though irritated by what was being said. Once he looked up, straight at me,
as if he’d felt the binoculars burning down on him.
    He didn’t come back for a whole two weeks after that day.
I’d gone about my very average life as usual, running the ophthalmology
outpatient department at Bellevue. Well, I say running—I’m the head
receptionist and although I have no actual medical qualifications, without me
it all goes haywire. Taking a day off sick is always a nightmare.
    I’d almost given up hope of seeing him again when suddenly
he appeared. The day was gray and dull. He wore a short army-green jacket and a
battered trilby-type hat. That’s when I’d decided before the month was out I’d
go and introduce myself. It was time to get the ball rolling.
    And now the last day of May had arrived, which meant I
couldn’t put off my self-imposed ultimatum any longer.
    Locking my apartment, I took the elevator then sauntered out
into the spring sunshine. I wore a tight red vest top, a short purple skirt,
silver stilettos and not a scrap of underwear.
    Several young men shouting to one another whizzed toward me
on skateboards. I paused to let them by before stepping into the park. It was,
as usual, relatively quiet. A few dog walkers and a couple of teens sauntering
along. I glanced about. There he was, just where he’d been five minutes ago
when I’d decided to make my move.
    I took up position at the opposite end of the sunny bench he
liked to sit on. My brain fuzzed with excited anticipation. Seeing him up
close, for real, with no lens between us was momentous, but I had to be careful
not to be caught staring. So between glances at other park-goers minding their
own business, I sneaked looks at his profile.
    His jaw was big boned and layered with a heavy dose of black
stubble. His lips were thin, his nose a little hawklike. Craggy black brows
pulled low over what I suspected were brown eyes. As he studied a newspaper,
his head hung forward but not his hair; his hair was short, very short and the
hint of skull beneath was foreboding and alluring all at the same time.
    He wasn’t handsome in a traditional way; in fact he was
hard-looking, roguish. One might have said a little unkempt but I preferred the
description rough and ready. Either way—rough, roguish, unkempt—to me he was
perfect because I wasn’t a sweet girl. Beneath my bubbles of blonde hair and
dimpled smile I was all about the filth. My fantasies, for as long as I could
remember, were dirty and degrading, threaded with disrespect and humiliation
and should never have been admitted to, let alone sought.
    Ignoring the new smoking ban, he lit a hand-rolled
cigarette, flicking the match to the pavement and sucking on the thin papery
end. When he exhaled, the stream of smoke drifted my way. I dragged it deep
into my lungs, taking in what had circulated his body and delighting as the
woodsy vapors entered me. I fluttered my eyes shut, relishing the moment, and
when I opened them again he was staring straight at me. I was right, his eyes
were brown—deep, chocolate brown that swirled with delicious, hot sin and a
suitable amount of