Something Strange Is Happening in My Bathroom

She just is sitting there. Where did she come from? What does she want?

Despite the title illustration, this is not one of my erotic stories. It’s a little creepy, a little sad.

There is something quite strange happening in my bathroom. There is a girl, sitting on the toilet seat. Not sitting on the toilet, you understand, just sitting on the seat. She is young and very sexy, wearing stockings and suspenders and purple lingerie. A nice treat for a man of my age to find in his bathroom you might think. But I have no idea who she is. Where did she come from? What does she want?

Now, it is even curiouser. Getting desperate, I went back into the bathroom and she was wearing even less. My limbs hurt and I limp through my flat; this disease is eating me alive but I can still be aroused by the sight of a beautiful woman. And she is beautiful, small, pert breasts and long slender legs, not that I stared you understand, but it was hard not to look, not to be drawn to them.

I closed the door. I need to think what to do.

She is attractive, she has an allure that, in my younger days would have had me questioning her, but now I remain mute. She does not scare me, there is something familiar about her manner, but her presence is unnerving.

It is the way she has just appeared there that I find odd. Did she climb through the window? No, she’s slim, that is true, but the window is small and two floors up. There is only one door to the bathroom. With those long legs she could climb the stairs to my flat, the stairs that imprison me, in seconds. Did she sneak in when my back was turned? But then how did she get through my locked door, which is only opened by my weekly carers?

She has not spoken, has said nothing to me, she just sits there on my toilet like an ethereal presence whilst I am forced to relieve myself in the sink.

She is nearly naked now, wearing nothing but the stockings and looking at me seductively, her lips pouting. I want so much to go to her, to prove that I can still be a man.

Her legs are spread, every inch of her is laid out before me. She is inviting me, inviting me to join with her.

I approach her and she smiles. “At last, you come to me,” she says as she holds out her arms. “You have led a good life, but it is time now. Did you think Death always wears a dark cape and carries a scythe?”

***

Something Strange Is Happening in My Bathroom was first published in Redemption Magazine, home of transgressive fiction on Medium.

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