I resisted for a week.
Longest week of my life. I hemmed and hawed about what I should do. The logical part of my brain kept telling me not to do it; to throw away the paper and walk away. Like throwing the paper away would do any good since I had already memorized the number. But, still, she was a super villain. She robbed banks, she killed people.
After the attack I Googled her.
The lower brain rationalized all of it. She was hot, financially independent and, yeah, she killed people, but very rarely. Compared to other villains in the city she looked like a saint.
I also couldn't stop thinking about what she had done to me at the bank. When my co-workers brought it up I went beet red. At home, though, I pleasured myself to the memory until I was too painful to continue. I knew I was going to call her the night I went online and found porn with girls dressed as cowgirls.
