The Man in the Teddy Bear

My pillow was ten degrees askew from how I left it before leaving for work, and there were wet stains on the edges of the pink pillowcase.

I creased my brow, but I soon eased up quickly as I quietly straightened my pillow and threw that strand of short hair left in a corner into the bin before going to change in front of my full-length mirror.

When I only had my camisole left, I glanced at the teddy bear on my bed with the corner of my eye before picking up my pajamas and heading to the washroom.

This was the fourth day since I noticed that a stranger had been slipping into my house.

It started with signs of the doormat being flipped and the order of the shirts hanging in my wardrobe being changed.

To others, it was nothing much, but I easily noticed it because of my crippling OCD.

That was why I began to take notice of strangers around me, and I then noticed a particularly scrawny man.

Every day, he would tail me to work and follow me home after, using his baseball cap and face mask to blend into a crowd.

Most of the time, he wore a blue shirt with jeans, so the only distinctive feature I could note was his hands.

And they were a pair of beautiful hands—his skin was fair, chiseled to perfection, with even the veins on the back of his hand something exceedingly sexy.

It would look good if those hands danced all over my body, right?

As he lay on my bed and touched myself, was he dying to feel me and measure me against the length of his own fingers?

I closed my eyes, turned on the shower, and let the water splash all over my face and body, imagining that it was that beautiful pair of hands drifting over every inch of my skin.

Nonetheless, I sighed—the warm water just couldn't replace those hands.

After drying myself, I sighed again and reached for a pair of fresh panties from the drawer behind me… and felt something strange when I touched the fabric.

Soon, my nostrils picked up that faint, moist scent that was ever so familiar.

He was really growing even bolder.

I blinked and couldn't help laughing as I simply decided not to wear my panties, putting on only a sleeping gown and leaving the washroom.

The brown teddy bear was still sitting against the bed, its black beady eyes still staring fixedly at me.

I patted its little head and seemingly carelessly placed it flat on its back.

Then, I stood on my bed and over it.

A sudden breeze just happened to blow in from the window, lifting my dress and giving even a clearer view.

There seemed to be a brief red flash in the teddy bear's eyes, but I pretended not to notice as I stood on my toes, reaching for the cabinet nailed to the wall above.

I specifically picked a finger sleeve and smiled in satisfaction as I leaned against the headboard to start my show.

I placed the teddy bear back where it was sitting so that it still faced me.

Its black bead eyes looked so real just then, a pervert just like its owner who was watching behind the hidden camera.

But it was precisely the thought that a pervert was watching me that I felt a strange, wild excitement that was really driving me crazy.

I lived alone, and the walls were soundproof—I didn't have to notice being caught.

Even as the heat wave of pleasure washed over me, I took out my phone and put on my Bluetooth earphones, pretending as if I was watching porn when I was really tapping into a bug.

After all, there was no way he would expect me to bug my own trash when he gathered them, would he?

And just as I expected, I heard the man's voice.