Gemotions

She found the package nestled amongst her mail, addressed to "Mrs. Eleanor Vance, Apt. 4C." That was the previous tenant. A flush crept up her neck as she brought it inside, the thick cardboard somehow promising a secret. She shouldn't. She knew she shouldn't. Yet, her fingers itched to know what was inside.

A delicate, lace-trimmed box. Inside, a book bound in leather. Her pulse hammered against her ribs as she flicked through the pages. The script was elegant, detailing… well, details she’d never expected. A gasp escaped her lips, her cheeks burning. It described things she'd only fantasized about, vivid and evocative.

She slammed the book shut, her breathing shallow. The air in her apartment felt suddenly thick, heavy. She felt an unfamiliar pressure building in her lower body. The words, the imagery, they danced in her mind's eye. Her fingers traced the spine of the book, a shiver running through her. She needed… something.