An excerpt from Voyeur...

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Today might be the last time I’ll see him, I realize, since Mr. Beautiful never drops by during weekends.

The thought creates a curious little pang in my heart, and before following the librarian to the counter I find myself glancing outside the window one last time---

He’s pulling the chair out for his date, and I watch her say something as she comes to her feet. Whatever it is, it’s caused him to throw his head back and laugh. A moment later, his arm curls around her waist---

Oh!

Why do you keep torturing yourself, my inner bad girl asks tiredly. Why don’t you just look away?

Good question, so much so that it doesn’t even need an answer. What it requires is but a simple action. All I have to do is look away and I won’t be hurt.

But as always I do the opposite, and as I watch Mr. Beautiful pull his date closer to him I feel the pang in my heart become more excruciating---

Mr. Beautiful covers the woman’s mouth with his.

---until a wound opens in my heart.

That should have been you, my inner bad girl says bluntly, if only you had the guts to ask him out.

Most of the women around the couple have stopped and stared, and I’m betting they feel the same way I do.

Jealous.

Frustrated.

But more than anything else---

Aroused.

The wound in my heart only starts to close when Mr. Beautiful finally lifts his head.

Lucky girl, I think with a sigh.

I may disapprove of Mr. Beautiful’s womanizing ways but it doesn’t make me blind to the fact that he’s a good kisser. He has to be, considering how the women in his life don’t seem to care that he’s dividing his, err, attention among a hundred lovers.

Mr. Beautiful’s familiar-looking sports car then drives into view, and I sigh again, realizing that he’s about to leave.

This is it, then.

Our very last time to see each other, I think wistfully.

Goodbye, Mr. Beautiful.

I’m about to turn away when I see Mr. Beautiful raise his head---

And his eyes unerringly find mine.

---

An excerpt from Stalker...

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Bypassing the elevator, Mr. X takes the stairs, and I follow him, despite feeling even more confused.

Mr. X glances at me, and my bemusement must have been visible on my face when he murmurs, “You’re wondering what this is all about.”

I bite my lip. How do I answer that?

As we take on another flight of stairs, Mr. X continues casually, “I’ve seen you stalking me.”

Right.

He’s seen me stalking---

Wait.

What?

I trip over my own feet, missing a step, and I let out a gasp as I feel myself falling back.

Long, hard fingers encircle my wrist, and then I’m being firmly pulled back.

“Careful.” Mr. X’s voice has suddenly become rough.

His touch burns my skin, and as soon as I regain my balance I try to yank my wrist away, but instead of letting go his grip tightens.

“D-Doctor?” I try to pull my hand away again, but he still doesn’t release me, and I no longer know what to do or say. I don’t even know how to feel. Terrified? Confused? Excited? I feel it all…and so, so much more.

“You heard what I said.”

The words make me jerk. “I…” Oh God. “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar.” But his silky tone makes the taunt feel like it means something else, and my face burns as an unnatural kind of heat sweeps over me.

Oh God.

Is the prospect of being found out actually turning me on?