This was the first time she had been relaxed, aside from the odd spook she'd had on the dock an hour or so prior, and stress free. Rosalyn decided she could take a little extra time on herself, considering she rarely did at home. She first took a long, hot shower to let her bones soak up some heat. While she scrubbed her scalp and rinsed out her hair, she began to mentally invigorate herself.

The last time she had been with a man had been three years ago, her senior year of college. They had dated for a year and a half before breaking up a few days after graduation. He'd said they'd needed to be realistic; their futures were going in separate direction. Rosalyn hadn't denied it, so they had parted on rather peaceful terms, as much as it silently broke her heart. Looking back now, she had probably been more upset over wasting a year and a half of her life rather than because she missed someone she loved.

Regardless, she let her thoughts wander from the caresses they had shared to the innuendoes she entertained in her lonely mind, summoned by the books she used to read. She closed her eyes. A sexy man with unkempt black hair peeled back the shower curtain, she imagined, and stepped into the small rectangle of tile floor and stone wall. They were forced to stand chest-to-chest from the tight space. Hot water drizzled down his olive skin, drenching his hair and washboard abs.

Rosalyn bit her lip and spread her feet, lowering a hand to her swelling kitty. Her index finger—no, this mysterious man's finger—brushed shyly against her nub. She balanced herself by pushing a free arm against the wall before the tender brush turned into rubbing. Slowly at first, and then faster, impatient, needy. Her moans bounced off the walls and through the small cabin.

"Yes," she groaned. "Baby, yes. Faster."

Her body tensed as it approached climax before spasming. Now that her lower lips were coated in slick fluid, she eased her finger into her core. The man, her secret hero, wiggled his finger ever deeper into her, as if looking for the end to her chasm. She moaned again and clutched the wall, clutched his muscular shoulder. Nuzzling his head into the slope between neck and shoulder, he sucked and kissed on the skin while thrusting his beefy finger in and out of her.

Again, her body quaked under its own rise with waves of ecstasy. Then came the shudder of release and a content sigh. She reached for his dick only to smash her hand into the stone wall.

"Shit!" she hissed.

Her fantasy had found its end, and with it, her disappointment. She was still alone. Grinding her teeth, she turned off the shower and stepped out of its steamy embrace. The cold bathroom stung her damp skin as she started toweling off. Curses continued under her breath, and she couldn't get over how ridiculous she was. She knew he wasn't real, but she still went for it.

"I need to find a damn man," she muttered. "This is pathetic."

After she had dressed into a blue floral nightgown, something her brothers would have endlessly teased her for, she shuffled into the kitchen to pour a glass of sweet red wine and find the bag of cheese she had brought. She proceeded to take her treasures to the back porch where an old creaky bench swing hung. The sun had already set, so the stars were now beginning to pop from their purply-obsidian background.

How romantic, she thought. Though she wanted to be bitter about it—about being trapped in such a magical place with no one to share it with—she couldn't be. She felt resignation instead. Maybe she could join a singles group or an online dating site when she returned to the city. No, that wouldn't work. She didn't have time for a relationship. As much as she wanted the sex, she wanted the man too.

"Rose..."

Her body stilled, eyes widening. It was that voice again. She was afraid to move in fear it would see her, if it didn't already. Whatever it was. A ghost? Did she even believe in ghosts? It couldn't be a person, surely. No one would be out. Especially no one who knew her childhood nickname.

"Jesus, please," she whimpered quietly.

Movement by the lake caught her eye, and she felt her breath hitch at the sight. Fog had gathered on the surface of the still water and seemed to be gravitating towards her.

Panicking, she shouted, "Hell, no!"

Jumping up from the porch swing, she grabbed her wine glass and ziplock bag and dashed for the door. It gave easily under her brute force. She tumbled inside, dropped her wine glass in her rush, yet still managed to shut and lock the sliding glass door. Her breaths were coming in heavy pants. Glancing uncomfortably at the door, she inhaled deeply and turned around to survey the mess she had made. Her nerves were still jumpy as she scoured the cabin for a broom and cleaned up the broken glass and wasted wine.

"I'm losing my mind," she concluded while moving into the bedroom, away from all the revealing bay windows and glass doors.

The lamp on the bedside table emitted a gentle yellow glow that illuminated most of the room. She studied the shadows it cast on the walls, wondering when she had become such a skittish person. Maybe it was because she was all alone out here and she knew it. Anyone or anything hunting her would know it too.

Should I leave? she asked herself. As frightened as she was by either her own imagination or something that was beyond her comprehension, she loved this place. She didn't want her last memory of it to be one tinted by fear and her fleeing. So she wouldn't leave. She would stick it out. If it was her imagination, she would find a way to get around it. If it wasn't...perhaps she could figure out what it was.

A prayer left her lips while she sunk down into her bed sheets, beneath the rough quilt. She left the lamp on and squeezed her eyes closed in the hope she might get some sleep.