The Isolationist (Bimbo Note)

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This continues my Bimbo Note story. All the previous captions are linked on my index page.

“You know this is kind of weird, right?” Chuck turned to face Azalea at the entrance to his building. “It is usually the guy who walks the girl home. Truly you are a dominant to the absolute core!” He grinned, his blue eyes blazed as Azalea blushed before leaning into a long deep kiss.

Azalea had only been dating Chuck four months but this had already become their ritual. Whenever they parted, she would walk him back to his apartment whether it was first thing in the morning or last at night, they would kiss and then he would wave to her from his balcony as she waved back from the street.

“Well, you know I need to make sure you get back safe!” Azalea smiled coyly. “There are all sorts of scary people out there.” She glanced across the street and Chuck followed her gaze to where an impossibly old man was trying and failing to get an equally ancient lawnmower to cut his grass. They laughed together and then kissed again.

For the first time in her memory, Azalea was happy. Chuck loved her dark sides, he was cool with her being on OnlyFemmes and even though he didn't know about...the book, she shared every other part of her with him. Besides that, the sex was other-wordly.

“I love you!” The words hit her like a fist. She stepped back from Chuck to get a better look at him and he stared back with unwavering confidence. “You don't have to say anything back. I just want you to know!” He kissed her again and then he was gone – through the glass doors and into the lobby of his building towards the row of elevators.

Azalea swallowed hard and fell against the side of the building. Oh, Chuck! She screamed internally. Why'd you have to go and say that? Her lips pressed together as her mind raced over what to do next. No-one had ever said those three words to her before, and that was fine. She knew she would never be able to say them back. But now? What did it mean? How could she let someone get that close? Panic seized her, and after a moment of hesitation, she pulled the Bimbo Note from her bag and scrawled Chuck Winston on an empty page.

Walking down the street, Azalea allowed herself one last look back as she had on countless visits to Chuck's building. A figure was crouched on the second floor balcony staring blankly at her through the railing, large breasts cupped in a leopard print bra that had fallen off one shoulder. Azalea wiped a single tear from her cheek, gave a small wave, and continued on her way.