Aino Awakens S1E1: The Parcel | Origin Story

“Could you take this for me?”

The box was already in my hands. Small. Brown. Heavier than it looked.

“It’s a house near you,” she said. “Third floor. I think it’s twelve. Wait...” She frowned at her phone. “Is it twelve or fourteen? No. Twelve. I’m sure it’s twelve.”

I said, “I can do it.”

I wanted to go home. I wanted my coat off and the television on and nothing else. I am twenty-one and my nights are empty on purpose.

I said yes anyway.

“Third floor. Twelve.”

“You’re an angel,” she said.

I am a blonde girl with blue eyes and a coat that hides my body. That is all.

Eleven was shut.

Twelve had light under the door.

I knocked.

No one answered.

I knocked again.

The door was not closed. Warm air touched my face. Perfume. Skin. A wet sound.

I looked.

They were naked.

The man sat in a chair with nothing on. The young woman was on her knees between his legs, also naked, her mouth on his manhood. A hand lifted her hair. She kept going.

The other woman stood over them.

Black hair. Blue eyes. A leather skirt. A tight black top. She had a commanding presence, the kind that makes a room go quiet. She was not touching them. She was telling them what to do.

“Slower.”

The girl on her knees slowed down.

Heat went through me so fast I held the box harder. I had not felt anything like that since I was eighteen, and even then it had not been this. I thought, leave.

She saw me.

She did not hide them. She looked at my coat and my face and the box in my hands.

I stepped back.

She opened the door into the hall.

“You can come in,” she said. “Or you can go home and think about it.”

“Wrong door,” I said. “I’m sorry. I had the wrong number.”

I turned and I ran.

I still had the box. I clutched it to my chest all the way down the stairs. Outside, the cold did not help. I walked home with my coat pulled tight and the parcel hard against me, as if I had stolen something.

My kitchen was dark.

I locked the door. I put the box on the table. I would take it to the right flat tomorrow. I took the coat off. I sat on the sofa because my legs were not steady.

I could still see them. Naked. Her mouth. Black hair. Blue eyes. The leather skirt. Slower.

I had sex once, when I was eighteen, and it was horrible. I did not come. I never tried again. I watch films where the women are hot and wanted, and I envy them, and then I go to sleep.

Then I felt it.

I was wet.

Not a little. It had soaked through my underwear. When I shifted on the sofa I felt it, warm and slick against the cloth. I put my hand there, over the fabric, and my own body shocked me. I was swollen. I was soaked. I could feel the heat of it in my palm.

I did not take my hand away.

I pressed once, as if I only wanted to know if it was real. It was real. A small sound came out of me. I shut my mouth. I was twenty-one and I had spent three years telling myself I was a girl nothing happened to.

I pressed again.

I wanted more...