Chapter 4: My First Orgasm (Layla) - Once I Find You

When my phone alarm goes off, I groan and click the side button to silence it. I stretch as I sit up, wiping my tired eyes and helping myself out of my bed.

I've been looking forward to today all week—I have a custom cake order for a bridal shower! It's the first time I get to do something as important as this.

When I was a kid, I loved art. I used to draw and paint on any and every object I wasn’t allowed to. After…well, I stopped for a long time. Sometime after the court hearing, I went to this group therapy hosted for all ages, and I was introduced to decoden art. I instantly fell in love, and knew then I wanted to find a way to make it something I could actually do when I grew up. Of course, the next best thing was cake decorating, and I knew for sure that besides being able to do something I liked and was good at, that I’d be able to have my cake and eat it too.

Maybe I should’ve been a comedian?

Anyway, one day, it’ll be my own bakery. But for now, I did accomplish my dream of growing up and working at a bakery where I get to decorate all kinds of cakes. It took a lot of practice, but I want to be the person who everyone wants their special cakes from.

I smile as I pick out my outfit for the day, landing on my favorite light blue jeans and a light purple jacket. I adjust my jacket a dozen times in the mirror before shaking my head with a sigh.

“Not today, Layla. You have to be confident today,” I remind myself, and release a breath, turning to grab my purse and hurry out the door.

It’s still foggy and rainy today, but the view is beautiful as I enjoy the window seat in the bus. I’m a ball of excitement as I finally reach my stop, quickly walking the two blocks to work, Hudson’s Bakery. It’s a cute place, focusing more on being a dine-in bakery and café, but the people in town know we offer specialty cakes for all kinds of events.

“Good morning, Jenna!” I chime as I walk past the counter.

“Hey, you’re early!”

I greet Isobel and Clark and make my way to the back.

* * *

The sound of Clark jingling the keys brings me out of my focused trance, and I look up. “Oh crap, is it already six?”

“It’s a little past, you just looked so cute working hard I wanted to give you some extra time.”

Eh… “Thank you! I’ll just put these in the fridge and head out, then,” I say politely, grabbing the first cake.

He leans against the metal table, trying to smoothly cross his arms as he watches me. “Well, before you go, I wanted to ask if maybe you’ve thought more about that dinner?”

“Um, I haven’t. Honestly life is so crazy, I just have so much going on when I’m off. So⁠—”

“No worries, maybe once your schedule opens up…maybe soon?”

I nod politely with a smile, and it seems to satisfy him enough to leave the back room and I sigh. Clark seems okay…I just don’t have any interest. Though I also feel super guilty rejecting him because he’s a good guy. Eventually I have to reject him fully, instead of being nice.

I finish putting everything away, try to avoid another awkward conversation with Clark, and slip out of the bakery. I rush to the bus stop and make it just in time before he notices. All I want to do is go home and get online to continue my research. I think it’s exactly the distraction I need right now. I was so caught up in work all day, I didn’t even have a chance to check in with my forum friends.

Basically, I’ve gotten myself pretty deep in The Hangman’s forums. True crime people are no joke. I’ve made a couple friends there, and we always go to our group chat whenever we feel like talking about him or discussing new information we found. We all have a common interest—-which is figuring out who he is.

Unmasking him, if you will.

I check our group chat and nearly drop my phone. “Oh my g—" I exclaim loudly, but people on the bus turn and I slap my hand over my mouth.

No way. There is no fucking way. There’s a picture of him?

I can’t take this. I need to get home now. I furiously text the chat, letting them know I’m almost home and I’m going to hop on my laptop the moment I get inside.

I practically launch myself off the bus, making my way quickly to my still-broken screen door that leads to my building, and fumble a little before I fully unlock my door.

“I can’t believe this,” I say to myself as I sit on my couch and throw my laptop open. I race to open the tabs from the forum and…I see him.

The Hangman.

The man I’m looking for.

He’s real. He isn’t just something I’ve made up. He isn’t a hoax.

He’s a man. And he’s…huge. He looks like a scary, giant, bouncer.

I quickly save the image to my laptop and open it up so I can zoom in. When I do, I try to scan everything. I see that he has some sort of full mask on; the kind that covers everything, including your neck. The same kind you’d see a robber wearing. It has a design, though you can’t see the full front of it as his head is turned, it's undoubtedly a skull.

I let my eyes move down, and…holyfuckingshit.

His muscles are begging to rip the tight black fabric covering his arms. His broad shoulders, which are barely contained in that shirt. I can even see the fullness of his back since he’s half-turned.

I never really imagined what he’d look like. I assumed someone like him must be strong, since he chokes his victims with an object and somehow overpowers them for long enough to accomplish it. I assumed maybe he was handsome, because I felt like he was. Otherwise…it never mattered to me. I know that no matter who he is, he’s exactly the person I want.

My eyes dare to go further down, and land on his taut legs, down to his large boots. They remind me of something they wear in those military movies.

“Wait—”

I look back up, and zoom in, and I do see it. Dog tags. I wouldn’t have known that’s what they were, except that I was looking for them. This means he was in the military, right? Isn’t this a step closer to finding him?

I go back to the forum, and I see everyone posting their theories about who he could be. Cop, butcher, personal trainer, convict, firefighter. They go on and on, everyone chiming in with ideas and reasons why it needs to be looked into. I excitedly type up a whole comment explaining my theory, but I stop before I press “post.”

Not everyone here admires him like I do. What if I post this and everyone agrees, and the circulation of the post leads to his arrest?

I can’t do that to him.

I have to protect him the same way he protected me.

I delete my words and sigh. I can’t trust everyone on the forum. I know anyone can just make an account, and see everything posted here. There are thousands of members already. I have to make sure no one can find out who he is, or else he’s in danger.

Only one other comment suggests military, so I comment on it trying to deflect their opinion, and hope that they move on from it.

If I’m actively trying to find him, I have to make sure no one else can even come close. I wonder if he knows how many people sit and research him?

I move to open my thick notebook, which I’ve filled with notes, newspaper clippings, and anything I can about The Hangman over the last year. I’ve been studying everything I could. I’m trying to figure out how he chooses his next victim. I know for sure he must go on the public court website, but how does he choose who is next?

It seems almost random. Almost.

Except that he seems to go by severity sometimes, then sometimes he goes by age of the accused’s victim, sometimes he goes by length of time acquitted, sometimes he chooses only those never sentenced.

He changes it up every quarter. He’s very smart. It’s hard for people to sit and put together when he changes, because he rotates that as well.

But I think I have him figured out. I think I know who he’s going for next. If he does; then I can find him. If he kills who I think he will, then that means I’ve unlocked his pattern. And I’ll know the one after that, too. Then, all I have to do is find where they live. And then, I will find him.

It’s exciting…but also anxiety-inducing.

I sigh and close the notebook, laying my head against the couch. I really am worried now that someone will find him. Plus…everyone seems to be losing their minds over how sexy he is. And I’ll admit I’m jealous. I mean, it’s hard to see everyone say that.

What if he wouldn’t like someone like me? Maybe he’d prefer someone more conventionally attractive, or someone more experienced.

Someone less broken.

No, that’s it. No more being afraid.

I stand up from the couch and march over to my bed, pick up my pretty vibrator, and sit on the bed.

I’ve watched a lot of porn and read a lot of romance books, because I want to know how sex is supposed to be. Maybe fictional sex wasn’t the best idea for learning…but that’s all I had. And I’ve learned a lot.

Now, I just want to learn how to feel good. I’m just so afraid it’s going to suddenly…not feel good. That if I don’t practice now, maybe if I try to have sex, I’ll suddenly relive everything from my past and ruin it.

And what if…I find him, and he wants me too, and then I totally ruin the moment. I’m sure he won’t know what to do with me if I do, and I don’t want to fumble my chance with him.

I want to feel sexy.

And maybe bold. And confident.

So, fuck it. I can be bold. I’m not scared to try. I lay back against my pillows, and I pull up a porn website on my phone. I watch for a few minutes…but I don’t really feel it. Come on Layla, there’s literally sex in front of you!

I sigh. What can I do? Should I just…do it and wait to feel the need?

I use my thumb to leave my browser application, and subconsciously I go straight to the forum. I open the picture of him again…and I really let myself appreciate him without thinking about the semantics of figuring him out.

I zoom in, looking at the absolute tank of a man on the screen and I…imagine.

I can imagine those strong hands on me. The way his size and strength could lift even someone who weighs as much as I do. I imagine him picking me up and tossing me onto his bed like a man starved. The way he’d stalk closer to me with that mask on, telling me that he’s going to take me. Telling me how bad he needs my body and wants to make me his.

I turn on the vibrator for the first time, and with a deep breath I slip it past my pants into my panties, and I jump a little when I feel the sensation hit my pussy, pulling up just slightly.

It…isn’t bad at all. I take another breath and let it move back down over my clit.

He’d spread my legs open after tearing off my clothes, and he’d settle between my thick thighs. He would lift his mask up only enough for his mouth to be uncovered and then flatten his tongue to give a single lap from the bottom to the top of my pussy. His tongue lingering on my clit; flicking quickly as his hands clench my thighs with a bruising grip, as if he was trying to stay controlled.

I’m a moaning mess, giving completely in to the pleasure he’s giving me. He expertly tongues and sucks on me; his animalistic growls against my pussy causing vibrations that only further my peak.

I feel undone when he tells me to put my eyes back on him, and he tells me to cum for him. That he needs it. He begs me to cum as his finger does the work on my clit, talking me through it until I⁠—

“Ah…”

A wave washes over me. My whole body quivers, and I slump back into my bed. It takes me a minute to process it, but holyshit.

I just had my first orgasm…because of him.