Dangerous Desires Short Erotic Stories

Mel swiped frantically on her phone, the Bumble matches weren't matching.

“Argh!”

She flung her phone, slapping her palm on her head. Her face contorted in a grimace.

It was that time of the month, and ovulation desire was kicking in.

Her phone buzzed, and the message icon showed up on her notification.

“Please let this count!” Melissa sighed.

On the Bumble app, a message from a potential match popped up

“Hi there, first of all, your profile picture is lit. Second of all(lol), can we be friends?”

Melissa exited the message and scanned through his profile.

“Twenty? What am I, a paedophile?” She scoffed.

The profile description read: Loski, twenty-year-old, black British male, five foot five, muscular, etc.

“And a dwarf!”

“Mel, is this what you paid a fiver for?” She chuckled, still reading through his profile.

Her groin twitched, the frown on her face segued into a low groan. Time was running out.

She accepted the match and set a time for the date, without reading the rest of the details.

“Aha!” She snapped her fingers.

Mel got up from the bed and trudged towards the kitchen, She remembered there was a packet of chamomile left from the last time she experienced menstrual cramps.

The walk to the kitchen took her forever, she dragged her feet slowly towards the shelf. In a bid to find the herb, stainless cutlery and plastic cups flew around the room.

“Hmph!” She banged the shelf shut.

She opened the drawer and pulled out a ceramic kettle, which she placed on the gas. Mel applied an ample portion of the chamomile leaves and a cup of water, and then turned on the gas.

While she waited for the concoction to boil, she sat on the kitchen stool beside the dish rack, her head bowed.

“You've got two days, Mel, don't make me give this position to someone else,” Mr. Borris' voice echoed in her head.

Melissa had been struggling lately to come up with a piece for the media house she works for. Every story she could think of was either reported or written; the very thought of it made her nervous.

Her drink was ready, and the moment the kettle gave a sizzling sound, she reached out for the teacup beside her, filling the liquid into her cup and sipping as she walked out of the kitchen.

Moggie followed behind her but dashed towards the window. The feline sat beside it, meowing continuously.

“What now, Hector?”

The cat meowed again.

Melissa ambled to the window. It's been four days since the curtains were pulled up, and the house has assumed a stale smell even though the AC was turned on.

The AC remote was on the centre table. Mel brushed past the table, picked up the remote, and turned off the coolant.

As she pulled the curtain, she spotted the faint figure of a human, making its way to her lawn.

Mel shielded her eyes from the rays of sunlight that now poured into her apartment, She squinted them to catch a glimpse of the approaching figure.

“goddamnit, not you again!” her groin tightened.

The approaching figure was that of Gibson, her next-door neighbour. Once a week, he shows up at Mel's to mow her lawn. Mel watched him unlock the gate and head inside, the mower following behind him.