Page 11 of Liberated By the Logger

As quiet as a mouse, I pad barefoot to the open concept kitchen. All oak cabinets, soap stone counters, and shiny appliances. For a bachelor pad, this place is nice and clean. Not even a dish in the sink or a crumb on the counter.

Something spicy captures my nose’s attention. I move to the stove, smelling what I guess is chili. My stomach growls with approval. If I’m being held hostage, at least I’m in a clean place with good food.

Creeping back into the living room, I move to the front of the cabin where the open stairwell leads upstairs or downstairs. I bite the inside of my cheek, unsure if I should venture further.

Looking down the stairs, I see only blackness. Investigating further will be a no without a light source. Looking upward from the foot of the stairs, all I see is a dark hallway leading to what I presume are bedrooms. I’ve seen enough horror movies in my life to know you don’t do stairs unless you have a death wish.

An involuntary shiver runs up my spine as I pull away from the stairs, moving toward the front door. With one look out the side panel windows, I can see the storm is nasty. Trees are bending at unnatural angles from the wind gusts and the rain is coming down in buckets.

It looks like leaving will not happen unless a man pops out with a chainsaw. Then I’ll run for my life—storm or not.

As I head back into the main living space, I notice a hallway on the other side of the room. This one differs from the one upstairs. At the end of the dark hall is a closed door with light coming out underneath it.

Yeah, that’s not creepy at all.

Obviously, I need to check it out, right? I mean, I want to know where I am and who brought me here. Someone with answers might be in that room.

My stomach twists with mounting tension. How the fuck did I find myself in two dangerous situations in one day?

Worried about confronting whoever is on the other side of the door, I arm myself with the first thing I can reach in the rustic cabinet beside me, clutching it close to my chest.

Here goes nothing.

I tiptoe down the hallway, coming to a stop outside the door. I stay quiet, straining my ears. When I hear nothing, I press my ear to the solid wood frame. I hear something indiscernible, muffled and deeper in the room.

Unsure what to do, I waver. Do I knock? Or should I take a quick peek in case there is a chainsaw murderer inside?

Already afraid for my life, I opt for the latter.

Holding my breath, I slowly turn the doorknob, doing everything I can to make as little sound as possible. Opening the door a crack, I peek inside.

It’s a bedroom—the master by the look of it. Similar to the rest of the cabin, the room is tidy and masculine in its decor. A king-size bed dominates the space, but I find no one inside.

Bracing myself, I open the door further and pop my entire head into the room. Not a soul to be found. The weird muffled sound I heard earlier is more distinct, more of a trickling noise. It sounds like water. Could it be runoff from the storm rolling down the roof?

Stepping into the room, I raise my weapon like one would a baseball bat. A quick look around reveals two other doors leading somewhere where the noise is coming from. The first doorway is open, showcasing an organized walk-in closet with more men’s clothing. The second has a light shining underneath, the water noise coming from the other side.

Hmm. Could it lead to an outdoor porch? It would explain the sound of water.

Oh! Maybe it’s a bathroom. It makes more sense. En suites are popular in a primary bedroom as fine as this one.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I rap my knuckles on the door. I wait for a response like, “Just a moment,” one would expect from someone occupying a bathroom. But a reply never comes. Perhaps the door leads to somewhere outside like I previously thought.

Suddenly, the dark sky outside the bedroom windows grows bright white when lightning touches down, somewhere not far. I jump with a startled yelp when the thunder crash follows, rattling the windows. The overhead lighting goes out, shrouding me in darkness.

Cheese and rice! Can my predicament get any worse?

I don’t really want to know the answer.

The overhead light comes back on, flickering unsteadily and reminding me it could go out in an instant. If there is someone here, I want to know before the lights go out again. Better to know if someone is on the other side than to be unsure and at a disadvantage.

Bracing myself, I swallow the lump of dread in my throat as I slowly open the door.

The room is thick with cloudy warm steam, impairing my eyesight. I timidly enter the space, straining my eyes to see.

It’s as I move deeper into what can only be a bathroom that the steam gives way to a dark river stone shower. Inside that open shower stall is a man with his naked backside facing me—a very toned and thick backside.

Sweet heavens! I really am dead. It’s the only place I could be. Where else would I see the fine ass of a god?