Stories of Strange Queens

Jordan didn't have many friends. Young, attractive and intelligent, but always shy and off-balance with the world, she had gone through school uneventfully, with little to speak of in the way of achievements or meaningful relationships. A rural girl from a modest country town, Jordan had been sent to boarding school in the city by her council, who owned the orphanage in which she had grown up. She had never known her parents, both of whom had died sometime shortly after she had been born in an accident on one of the many farms that surrounded the town on all sides. It had been stormy, and they were two days into rains that were expected to take a week to pass.

Although she didn't know exactly what had happened -- no one she'd grown up with had really ever known her parents, and she had never found anyone who was much more than distant acquaintances with them in the tiny country village -- she had heard through rumours and vague second-hand memories that they had been trying to help a farm owner who's tractor had rolled when they had been working on the attached trailer. She was assured that they were trying to save someone's life, and had lost their own in the process when the tractor had moved further and run them over. Jordan was never sure how much of the stories she bought, but then, she'd never been given any reason not to believe them.

Growing up in a tiny country town had taught Jordan to fend for herself and find entertainment in the world around her. When she'd been sent to school in the middle of a harsh, bustling, saturated city, it had taken her a long time to come to terms with the constant pace and selfishness of the higher classes around her and by the time she had, her school classes were beginning to require more and more dedication from her. By the time she completed school, she had passed her classes, turned eighteen and moved out from 'home' all without any real companions. She was a loveless, virgin loner, and by the time she was ready to accept the myriad of bitchy young girls and testosterone-addled boys, she was too late. They were all gone, off in relationships of their own or already at work. The workforce also called to her, and, having nowhere else to live now that she was an adult, she obeyed its call, working a few dead jobs behind counters before winding up at the electronics retailer she now called her occupation.

At nineteen, Jordan was cute, button-faced and attractive. She had a soft, malleable face with white cheeks that would flush deepest red at the slightest sign of excitement, embarrassment or anger. A thin, straight nose sat between the cheeks, and on either side of that, two wide, white orbs that were her eyes bore twin bright, round blue spheres in their centres that seemed to grab and lock onto whatever or whoever she was focussed on and not let go until she was done with them. Atop each was a gently curving deep-brown eyebrow that matched her hair, and not far above those, a generous crop of slightly wavy black-brown hair hung loosely down to the bottom of her breasts, which she today wore up in a smart, simply ponytail that seemed to draw back the curtains on a star-studded performance of a face, as if the act of pulling up her hair made it and everything else around it only more beautiful.

Jordan was of average height, around 5'10", and solidly yet curvaceously built. Having grown up outside all her life, Jordan's body, while thin and feminine, was deceptively muscular underneath, and though her abdomen was straight and plain, her hips rolled out attractively from below a curving waist and her breasts stood proudly out before her, generous twin orbs of youthfully-buoyant goodness that bore no sag. Her legs were straight and strong, and though she had round thighs, her legs bore plenty of curving lines when accentuated by heels and tight clothes, although she rarely wore anything other than her modest, utilitarian work clothes and had only worn heels and a dress once or twice in her life.

The toast slices went together, and Jordan crammed the corner of the burnt-bread-and-butter sandwich into her mouth as she drew up her jacket and keys and swiped her bag from the table. She was running late, and if she didn't leave soon, she'd miss her train. She said her goodbyes to Kirsty, who was from her online class and had been asking about the questions from last nights' worksheets, and barrelled out the door, quickly locking up and jogging down the driveway, her shoelaces still untied. She'd never met Kirsty, except for initially when the class had hosted an online meeting -- many of the students had had the chance to meet each other and their teacher prior to beginning the course on account of the teacher feeling as if the 'face-to-the-name' effect would bring more value to his students, and while several hadn't showed up, and several more didn't have either webcams or microphones, Jordan, Kirsty and a decent portion of the class had. Kirsty and Jordan had been the online equivalent of sitting next to each other since that day, and although Jordan didn't feel like she was anything more than just that, she did enjoy the company, and when they did talk about their classwork, it was with a companionable mutuality.

She had to run to the train, for it was pulling into the station as she approached, but she made it, stepping on at the last moment, panting. She smiled at the person standing by the door, and positioned herself in a corner, content to wait there until her stop. She'd have to stand, but then, she never minded standing -- plus, it meant she'd be one of the first ones off when they arrived.

In the carriage behind hers, a lone woman standing by the window on the station-side of the train lifted a smartphone from the pocket of her figure-hugging jeans and opened up the text messaging application, quickly typing and sending a message to an unknown recipient. A reply came back within moments, and as she opened it, flicking a shock of red curls out of her face as she did so, the message loaded, revealing itself to be a looping gif image. Having already tapped to bring it up, the girl was already focussed on the phone as the file quickly downloaded and began to automatically play on her screen. As she watched it, her eyes grew wide, and her face slackened slowly, as if someone had simply lifted their fingers off the controls for her muscles inside her brain. She gazed at the image on the phone, oblivious to the movements of the train or those around her, and she stayed frozen in that state until the screen automatically dimmed itself due to inactivity.

When it did, she blinked, and lowered the device, her wide hazel eyes slightly glazed and unfocussed, as if she were constantly imagining something in her mind no matter what she looked at. By the time her focus had returned fully, the train was pulling to a halt at the city station, and the mass of workers aboard were filing off impatiently all around her. Had someone looked very, very closely at her while she was looking at the short, looping picture-video on the display in her hand, they might have noticed her glassy eyes. Had they looked even closer at them, they might have seen the reflection of a glittering, multi-coloured swirl of colour twisting and twirling about in them, a rainbow of blending light reflected off the screen of her phone, showing them what she was seeing on it. No one noticed the girl, the lights or the phone, however, just as no one noticed the slightly darker streak at the centre of the front of her pants, running in a roughly straight line from the middle of her body down between her legs, just as they didn't notice the way she breathed deeply while she stared, or that two small protrusions that had just slightly pushed themselves to the foreground atop her chest.

* * * * *

It was almost lunchtime and Jordan still hadn't made her move. She had been determined all week to finally take the chance and talk to Coby, but he'd been away the past two days and before that Jordan had gotten cold feet every time, ending up just staring at him instead. He'd seen her a few times, and smiled gorgeously at her -- but she'd just blushed and looked away. Now he was back at work and, borne only on the utter frustration of never getting any closer to him than across the counter, Jordan was determined to finally take the plunge.

It took forever, but finally she saw Coby turn to his floor manager and ask to go to lunch. She nodded, and he walked off down the back hallway. Jordan had been holding off on her lunch specifically so that she could align it with his. Quickly, she searched for and found her own floor manager for the day - a black man named Jake - and asked for her break. She'd nearly wanted to kiss him when he'd said yes.

Jordan nearly skipped like a schoolgirl as she walked towards the back rooms, but quickly her excited pace turned heavy as fear gripped her heart once more. What if he doesn't like me? What if he's gay? What if he's got a girlfriend? What if he's sexist? What if he says no? Jordan's brain screamed at her all at once, reminding her of every single thing she'd thought up since she'd met him that she could irrationally use as proof that he'd never go out with her. Desperately she fought the thoughts, and ended up mentally sitting on them, squashing them down underneath the one, over-powering thought that she knew could fuel her through the next few minutes; how she felt when she pictured her with him at home, on the couch, in the kitchen, in her shower... In her bed. As she remembered the feelings that had washed through her as she'd thought of him, relived the sensations his image on her phone brought her late at night, she knew that, regardless of what he said, she had to try. She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to touch herself again if she didn't.

Jordan brought her lunch into the kitchen. He was there, his back to her, bent over his own food, his phone in his free hand. She saw the same app she always used on it; saw him scrolling aimlessly through random images and posts, exactly like she did. She remembered what she did when she looked him up on the app, and felt a little flush run through her as she realised the same person whom she'd come to know so intimately on her own was right in front of her, right now.

'H-Hey,' She said, croaking the words out. She coughed once, suddenly realising how dry her throat was, and as Coby turned around and smiled at her, she quickly grabbed a glass from the shelf and filled it.

'Hey,' he said to her. His phone screen went off and the phone went on the table, and as Jordan caught it out of the corner of her eye, her heart swelled. Perhaps it meant nothing -- but to her scared, desperate heart, it meant he was paying attention to her, and that was valuable confidence fuel she desperately needed.

'Hi,' she said again. 'H-how are you?' Good fucking question, dumbass.

'I'm good!' Coby said, his grin widening as she walked around to sit opposite him. His bright brown eyes were all on her, and for a moment Jordan was content to just stare into them forever. She drank them in, wishing upon every star in existence that he was drinking in hers. She refocussed with an effort as she sat down.

'Great!' She said. 'What did you have for lunch?' ... Really?

But despite Jordan's mind screaming at her for every word she did or didn't say, Coby was engaging, and she didn't falter. After a few minutes, the conversation took off, and Jordan quickly found herself giggling as Coby told her menial things from his own life, and Coby returned the favour often as she attempted jokes and did her best to flirt for what was really the first time.

'Jordan, can I see you?' A deeper, rougher voice said. Her eyes slammed to the door, and the smile faded slightly on her lips as her boss came into view. Although she smiled on, internally, Jordan could happily have plastered her sandwich across his dumb face, then found the biggest knife in the drawer and given herself a crash-course in plastic surgery with his nose. Her heart screamed to sit back down and keep looking at Coby, but she knew she couldn't ignore her boss so blatantly, and Coby, curse the gorgeous angel was nodding at her, as if to say, "go ahead, it's fine! I'll be here!"

'I'll talk to you later, okay?' Jordan said as calmly as her desperation would let her. 'I'll call you. Tonight!' He's ruined everything, Jordan's inner negativity breathed sappily inside her. This is it. It's all over, just because of some $12 order I did or because I put too many twenties in register #3 yesterday. Motherfu-

'Hi,' Jordan said, smiling, arriving at her boss's office and standing, back straight in the doorway. 'What is it you wanted to see me about, sir?' She asked as politely as always, definitely not screaming frustrated obscenities at him somewhere in the back of her mind. She was still in his office when, minutes later, Coby passed it by on his way out of the kitchen.

* * * * *

It was a cold evening, and Jordan wanted to hurry home. She'd been held up late at work -- again -- after her boss had wanted to catch up with his sales staff. Although she never did any deals or placed any orders, Jordan had been expected to join the meeting anyway, despite the fact that her account didn't even allow her to modify item costs, rendering the 45-minute sales discussion pointless to her. But she liked to stay in the good books, and she'd had nothing at home that required she leave on time, so she'd stayed back with her team, listening to her boss and half-absorbing, half-zoning out from his words. She'd been stuck on shift all afternoon without another break, and Coby had left early. She hadn't seen him again. But, his number, freshly acquired that afternoon, was burning a hole in her phone waiting to be called once she got home.

The sun was beginning to dip as Jordan ran down the ramp to the city station, quickly scanned through the gates and darted onto her train. Packed to the brim as always, by the time it made it back out into the open air, the horizon was golden with dying rays of light and the deep blues of night were creeping in from the opposite end of the sky. She was pretty sure she didn't smell great -- the store was always hot, Jordan's cashier uniform wasn't exactly the most forgiving fit and the tight fit between her and the tens of people standing around her combined with it made her feel thoroughly uncomfortable - but she didn't care too much. It would only take a half-hour for her to get home, but a long, uncomfortable half-hour it would be until she got there.

At last, Jordan stepped off the train into the nippy air, her jacket tight around her body. She pulled the collar tighter around her neck and set off on the five minute walk to her tiny apartment, never once looking back. It was a quick trip. The second she was home, she flicked her heater on to full blast, knowing the tiny foot-fan would take some time to bring the room up a bit in temperature, and threw her jacket on the couch. Just as she always did, she put her bag down on her tiny table, chucked her phone and keys on the counter, and began to undress, chucking first her shirt, then her pants onto the couch.

Usually, she'd make a drink or water the plants in her microscopic back yard before she showered, but it had been one of those days, and she needed a refresher. Her socks joined the other clothes, and thirty seconds later, the shower began behind the closed glass shower door. As soon as it was hot, she was under it, and blissfully warming up at last. She hummed softly as she washed, some eclectic mix between the myriad of pop songs that played on repeat in her store day by day for their customers that managed to tick her off every day yet still end up wormed in her ear that night. As she showered, she thought of Coby, but this time, she didn't touch herself. She finally had something more involving him to do tonight, and she had a distant feeling she'd be even more ready by the time she was done with that phone call.

Stepping out of the shower, Jordan drew up her towel, rubbing herself down vigorously before wrapping it around herself. She put her hair up, fastening her nearly black-looking locks up in the belly of a second towel so that they could dry before she used her drier later on, before bed. Leaning on the sink, gazing into the mirror, searching for imperfections as only a young woman can, she defocussed for a while, enjoying the steamy warmth and the distant pleasure bubbling softly within her at the knowledge that soon she'd be on the phone with Coby. This was the last moment to herself she'd have before her anxiety-inducing call, and the first moment she'd had to herself all day long. She was in her relaxing place; private, warm, naked yet safely covered by her towels and the steam, her skin tingling, clean and warm. This was her reset switch. She closed her eyes, dreaming absently about her day, herself, and her impending call.

The bathroom door slammed open, the metal knob cracking harshly on the tiled wall inside. Instantly, a set of black-gloved hands encircled Jordan roughly, one shoving roughly under arm, clamping itself across her chest, the other grasping her face, the fake leather of the glove pressing tightly into her mouth and nose as the attacker pulled powerfully at her from behind. Jordan's scream died on the underside of the glove as she was wrenched backwards, the towel flying from her hair, pulled off-balance and almost completely naked out through her own bathroom door.

Her wild eyes wide, Jordan watched her little apartment slide past around her as she was dragged through it. She felt the doorstep clunk against her heels as she was pulled through it, and as she went, another man dressed completely in black, with black pants, shirt and jacket and even a balaclava covering every feature but his eyes and lips, stepped out from her tiny living room. He had her bag in one hand and her phone and keys in the other, but Jordan could do nothing to make him put any of them down, let alone herself.

Outside her apartment, the chilly air biting at her naked flesh, Jordan was roughly manhandled to the ground, her bare knees slapping harshly on the paved driveway as her attacker forcefully positioned her in a kneeling position in front of her own house. The arm went from around her body, and her towel, previously only suspended by the tight grip around her, fell away, leaving her completely naked from head to toe in the cold twilight. She could feel the damp in the ground on her skin and the cold biting at her sensitive nipples and crotch as it whipped past them.

Forced to hunch over, her attacker's other hand gripping her hair tight in his or her gloved hand; Jordan could just see a second set of black shoes as they stepped around to face her from the front. Her head came up a little, controlled by the person holding her, and her bulging eyes lifted in time to meet a small, unmarked spray bottle looming right in front of her. The glove clamping her mouth closed disappeared, and Jordan screamed. Or at least, she thought she did. At the same moment in time, the small spray bottle released a short, wide burst of a fine, glittering mist directly into her face, and time seemed to warp where she sat.

The scream came out, but to Jordan it seemed to happen over the course of the next thirty seconds, which felt more like thirty years. Distantly, as though it were happening to a roughly drawn copy of her in a cartoon world, Jordan saw herself being hauled up off her knees and half-carried, half walked down her own driveway, still completely naked. Behind her, the second attacker, the one who'd taken her bag, phone and keys and who'd sprayed her, picked up her towel and carried it unremarkably along with her other things. A few seconds later, Jordan was bundled into the back of a sleek black van, and as she flopped lazily to the floor of the cabin, she giddily felt herself bounce right back up again and keep going up, up, up until she was disappearing into the blackness of the ceiling, the dark insides of the van filling her up until there was nothing but emptiness.