Touch
by Garrett Robinson
Copyright 2014 Garrett Robinson
SALLY
SALLY STEPPED FROM THE ELEVATOR into the office building. The office was mostly empty, like it usually was when she arrived for work. She went to the cleaning closet and got out her cart, grabbing a mop from the wall and sticking it, business end first, into the cart. She headed for the kitchen. Some people were still kicking around, wrapping up work in their cubicles. But hardly anyone spent time in the kitchen at this time of day.
Sally always worked at night.
She parked the cart outside the kitchen and stepped inside. It was empty, which was good. Sally could usually avoid Touching others, but it was easier if they weren’t in the room in the first place. Sally tied up the trash bag from the can by the door and began sweeping.
She glanced out the window while she worked. The office had a decent view of downtown Los Angeles. She loved the look of the city at night. At night, you couldn’t see the dirt which always hung in the air. There were only the bright, twinkling lights of the office buildings. She liked seeing what was beautiful about the city and ignoring the filth it always sat in.
Of course, Sally never visited downtown. Too many people. Too hard not to Touch them.
The kitchen door swung open and someone came in. Sally was pretty sure his name was Scott. He crossed the room to the fridge, and Sally used the motion of her sweeping to move as far away from him as possible. Long practice had made her good at it, subtle enough that he wouldn’t notice.
(Probably) Scott smiled politely at her. “Hi, Sally.” He reached the fridge and pulled it open.
Sally merely nodded in reply. Scott was polite. Always remembered her name, always greeted her if he saw her. But she never talked back much. Because Sally knew that when people were talking to you, they tended to move closer.
Scott opened the fridge and pulled out an empty tupperware container, lined with residue of whatever he’d had for lunch. He closed the fridge door and leaned against it, looking back at her.
Oh, no. He wants to talk.
“Wife kills me if I don’t bring these things home,” Scott said, holding up the container ruefully. “These are the cheap ones, the kind that are supposed to be disposable, but she doesn’t care. She knows how to pinch a penny in two, you know what I mean?”
Sally really didn’t, and she wasn’t sure how to shut him down. If she nodded again, he might see it as an invitation to keep talking. She could just walk away, but that wouldn’t do. Sally’s lifestyle revolved around seeming almost normal, but never friendly. Friendly lead to Touching. But if you were too rude, you got fired, and that was bad. Sally had to eat.
She was still trying to figure out what to do when Scott continued. “I suppose it’s a good thing. I mean, she runs a damn good house, you know?” He looked down, spinning the container between his palms. “Never lets us spend more than we make. Great woman.” He paused the spinning, looking over at Sally again.
“You got a husband, Sally? Boyfriend?”
“Nope,” Sally said.
“Hm,” said Scott, then mercifully fell silent. Sally hoped he was through. She’d learned that if you kept your answers to a word or two, and made it clear you weren’t interested in the conversation, most people would leave it alone pretty quickly.
Apparently Scott was like most people, because he pushed himself off the fridge and headed for the door.
“Better be going,” he said, clearly uncomfortable. “You have a good one, Sally.”
“Thanks,” said Sally, still not looking up at him. He stepped through the door and was gone.
Sally looked up at the door, her sweeping momentarily coming to a halt. She wondered what Scott was like, if he was really as nice as he seemed. But she guessed he wasn’t. People never were. At least they weren’t often enough that Sally knew “never” was the best way to think about it.
The floor was clean. She swept the pile into her dustpan, cursing momentarily as she realized she’d already double-knotted the trash bag. She always did that, and she always cursed afterward.
You’d think it would sink in after a while.
She poured the dustpan into the new bag in the trash can even though she hated doing that. It stuck in her mind, like a scab she wanted to pick but couldn’t.
She scrubbed the tables and the sink, working quickly. When the kitchen was done, she went to take out the trash bag. In the hallway, looking like he’d been waiting for her to come out, and looking like he was trying not to look like he’d been waiting for her to come out, was Charlie.
Sally smiled. Charlie was always nice. Even nicer than Scott. She’d tried to be distant to him, too, but he always hung around, like a puppy waiting for scraps. He never got too close, and that brought them closer.
Charlie smiled shyly back at her, peering from under his long bangs. “Hi, Sally,” he said, his voice soft. Sally was only twenty-five, but Charlie barely looked eighteen. Barely legal. The thought flashed through Sally’s mind even as she shied away from it. That wasn’t something she could afford to think about. That would never happen - could never happen. If Touching was bad, she shuddered to think what that would be like.
“Hey, Charlie,” she said, still smiling at him. “You getting out of here?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Going home, all alone. Home alone! Haha.” He chuckled.
Her smile widened. Charlie was the only person she knew whose awkwardness made hers seem normal. “Okay, Charlie. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned away from him to pick up the trash bag. Despite herself, as she bent over to pick it up, she wondered if Charlie were looking at her butt. Stop it, she admonished herself. She straightened.
“Okay.” Charlie turned and started to walk away, but paused and turned back.
No, Charlie. Keep going. For a moment, she was afraid he was going to step closer. For another moment, she wanted him to.
But he didn’t. “Good night, Sally,” was all he said. Then he walked off down the hallway, head hanging.
“Good night, Charlie,” she said, too soft for him to hear.
SEAN
SALLY WAS IN THE MEN’S room, mopping the floor absent-mindedly, still thinking about Charlie. Years had taught her to avoid all contact, to avoid Touching. But those years hadn’t quelled the desires her body had thrust upon her ever since she was a teenager, desires she’d never been able to fulfill. Not truly.
She was still human, after all. She knew that everyone wanted the same thing, when it came right down to it. And as much as her mind knew what would happen at that contact, her body didn’t seem to care.
She wondered if the building was empty yet. Maybe she could go into one of the stalls and quell her body’s hunger on her own. That was the only answer she had when her body was burning with need, as it was now. It was probably too risky in the men’s room, but maybe not. With the state she was in, it wouldn’t take her more than a few minutes.
Sally realized she’d stopped mopping entirely, hands idly sliding up and down the handle, eyes staring at nothing. Just as she’d made up her mind to do it, the bathroom door swung open despite the sign she’d hung to warn people she was cleaning. The sight of the man who entered doused the burning in her groin like a bucket of water on flames.
Sean worked at the office. Sally was sure most women would consider him attractive. He had tight, ripped muscles and always kept just the right amount of stubble on his face, making him seem rough and rugged. He was well-dressed and well-groomed. She’d overheard in whispered conversations that more than one woman at the office had slept with him. But Sally hated the leer that sometimes came into his eyes, and the mocking smirk that was so often on his lips. Right now he was looking
at her like a piece of meat he wanted to feast on.
“Hey, cutie,” he said. Even the timbre of his voice was obnoxious. “I’m working late tonight. Guess I’ll be seeing you around, huh?”
“I’m cleaning,” Sally said, ignoring his question and trying to contain her disgust. “Can you wait five minutes?”
“Gotta drain the lizard, babe. When you gotta go, you gotta go, you know?” He leaned on the counter, which made his pelvis stick out. Sally shuddered inwardly. “I could just do my business and pretend you’re not here. You don’t have to look unless you want to.” The smirk was on full display. Sally could practically hear the boner in his voice.
“I’ll leave,” she said. She started to step toward the bucket to put the mop away, but it was right next to Sean. She hesitated, then sidestepped and started to walk out of the bathroom, bringing the mop with her.
Sean pushed himself off the counter and stepped toward her just as she reached the door. Her heartbeat quickened. “Hey, I’m just trying to be friendly,” he said.
He reached out and touched her arm, his fingers closing on the denim sleeve of her jacket. Instinctively Sally jumped, pulling her arm up and out of his grasp. But the upward motion caused the skin of her hand to brush against his.
She Touched him.
***
I push her against the wall, following her and shoving my hands onto her tits. She moans as our mouths meet, her hands are all over my body. She’s going fucking crazy. That dirty blond hair is falling all around my face and I’m tonguing her throat, trying to push our faces together. She grabs my waist and shoves herself against my cock. Our clothes aren’t even off yet but already we’re practically fucking.
I pick her up, closing my hands around her ass cheeks. Her legs wrap around me. I set her down on the counter and move my lips down to her jawline. Then her neck. Then lower. My hands are sliding up her shirt and she’s tugging at my belt buckle. Goddamn, I’m going to break this bitch in half on my dick.
***
“Get away from me, you freak!” Sally shrieked, shoving Sean away as hard as she could. His eyes widened with shock at her shout. He didn’t know what she’d seen. They never did.
Sally grabbed the mop handle in both hands and swung at him hard. She didn’t have much strength in her arms but the swing was powered by fury and fear, hitting him in the arm with a crack! Sally dropped the mop and ran from the bathroom.
“Ow!” she heard him cry out behind her. “What the fuck?!”
Sally kept running.
LIV
SALLY’S KNUCKLES WERE WHITE ON the steering wheel all the way home. The images she’d seen in Sean’s mind kept flashing before her eyes. Others’ thoughts were always more vivid than her own, and hard to get rid of. If she hadn’t been behind the wheel she would have squeezed her eyes tightly against the pictures in her head. As it was, she was forced to let them play out in front of her, over and over again, as though they were being projected on the windshield in front of her.
After fleeing the bathroom she’d hidden in the parking lot, lurking in her truck until she saw Sean leave. Only then had she gone back upstairs to clean up her cart and return it to the closet. She didn’t bother finishing the rest of her work. She doubted anyone would notice if she missed a day, and she wouldn’t be able to concentrate - she never could after Touching someone.
Home was in the hills of Burbank, a run-down little apartment building with few tenants. Low occupancy meant low prices, which was perfect for the kind of wages Sally earned working the night shift.
Her apartment had a bedroom that managed to be cramped with nothing but a double bed inside, a minuscule kitchen, and a modest living room. In the living room were the only creature comforts Sally truly enjoyed: a plush, comfortable couch and her massive 72” TV.
Sally spent most of her free time on that couch, watching her favorite shows, the news, whatever. In addition to cable she had a computer hooked up to the screen, and her wireless keyboard and mouse allowed her to surf the net from her couch.
TV and internet were her only social contacts with the outside world. She had a number of shows she’d watch religiously each week, and when she’d cleared her DVR she’d channel surf . She watched the news, cartoons, even infomercials - anything that caught her attention and kept it from the thoughts of others she’d Touched over the years. No matter how long ago she’d first seen them, the thoughts never stopped dancing in her head, clear as day.
When television failed to clear her head, she would bring porn up on the computer and please herself until she was a quivering mess on the couch. Releasing that particular tension always seemed to drive the thoughts away for a while. Sally had often wondered what chemicals were released into her brain after an orgasm that helped to clear her mind. Her halfhearted internet research hadn’t shed any light on it. After all, what did people know about a brain like hers?
She didn’t know why she could do what she could do. One day when she was fourteen she had given a fellow cheerleader a high five after a soccer game. Immediately she collapsed on the ground, screaming as her friend’s thoughts went racing through her head. It had terrified her then. She had become better at dealing with it, but it still sent her mind reeling.
Within days she became a loner at school. Her friends stopped hanging out with her. No one could touch her without triggering one of her “fits,” as the school nurse called them. Doctors examined her and could find nothing wrong. The physical contact of their examinations were terrifying ordeals that Sally did everything she could to avoid.
Soon, it wasn’t just her friends at school who shunned her, but her family. After she’d seen another’s thoughts, she could never look at them the same way again. Within days she learned of the man who was not her father that her mother had slept with. She saw the white powder her dad snorted off of tables every time he visited his best friend, Derek.
Most people’s thoughts terrified her. People were vain and cruel in their minds. Men she Touched often wanted her body, and pictured doing the most obscene things to it. Other people she touched seemed to spend all their time thinking about their past sins, and Sally saw all the bad things they’d done sitting at the forefront of their minds.
She learned every transgression her friends had ever committed against her, every dark thought her teachers had ever had, the innermost secrets of people she brushed past on the street.
Soon she stopped telling people what she saw, but the suspicion that she knew their thoughts drove them from her. Soon everyone avoided talking to her. Her own parents couldn’t stay in the same room with her for long.
A man from the government came and examined her, but she lied, purposely guessing wrong about what he was thinking. It must have worked, because he soon left, and then Sally was alone in the darkness of her own house, her own town, where she was an outcast.
When she couldn’t take it any more, Sally stole a thousand dollars from her dad’s safe - after learning the combination by holding his hand - and ran away from home.
She’d been alone ever since. Ten years later, she was still alone.
Sally was startled from her thoughts as she pulled up to two police cars blocking the road half a block away from her house. The policeman in front of her waved for her to turn down a side street. There were cop cars in front of her apartment building.
She pulled in to street parking nearby and walked through the chilly December night to the front of her building. Policemen looked up at her, and a beefy barrel of a man stepped in front of her to bar the way. He raised a hand to stop her; Sally halted well away from it.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” the cop asked.
“I live in that building,” she answered, pointing.
“Which room?” he asked.
“314.”
“Third floor’s on lockdown,” the man told her. “I’m afraid I’m going to need to ask you to wait.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“H
omicide,” he responded, before walking back to his companions by the police cruiser.
Sally turned to look around her. She didn’t want to wait on the street. Winter nights in L.A. were nowhere near as cold as they were in the Washington town where she grew up, but it was still December, and she was getting chillier by the second. There was a Starbucks around the corner, but she shivered at the thought of all those tightly-packed people in such a small space. She walked over to the policeman, who turned back to her with a sigh.
“Please,” she said, “I just need to get home.”
“Ma’am, I told you, you’re going to have to wait.”
“I think I might have left the gas on,” she lied. She’d never used the tiny oven in her apartment - all her meals were of the microwave variety.
The policeman paused, considering.
“Could someone escort me up?” she asked.
After a moment’s consideration, the cop spoke into his radio, receiving static chatter in reply. He nodded to her.
“All right, I’ll take you up,” he said. “But you’ll need to keep your hands off of everything, and once you get to your apartment, you won’t be able to leave again until we’re gone. Understand?”
She nodded. Leaving her apartment was the last thing she wanted to do as long as all these people were around.
The policeman led her up two flights of stairs to her floor. People brushed past them on the staircase; Sally shoved her hands into her jacket and clung to the opposite wall as they passed. She got bumped lightly a couple of times, making her jump. She tried to make her upper body shrink as much as she could as they walked down the third floor hallway to her room.
As they approached, Sally saw a cluster of police standing around 315, the room across from hers.
Her heart leapt into her throat and her mouth became dry.
Police tape was strung across the doorway, just high enough for someone to duck under. A chalk outline lay half in, half out of the doorway, feet in the hall.
Sally stopped walking, hand leaving her jacket to fly to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she said. “Mrs. Norris?”