Creepy Pastas and other creepy stories

I shouldn't have cheated.

The older you get, the more acutely you understand the differences between love and lust. As a young boy, I might have looked upon the woman I married with disgust, perhaps even revulsion. She was a mousy brunette, a far cry from the blonde bombshells I stumbled to impress in high school. But when I met my wife in my mid 30s, I knew that the lustful boy I once was could never have understood the affection and the admiration I felt for her. It was, simply, love.
An ex-girlfriend, who I had maintained a tepid friendship with after we broke up, had invited me to her birthday party, and Elle was there, a wallflower in a sea of drunk revelers. We struck up a conversation and quickly found a whole slew of mutual interests, including books, movies, and even favorite ice cream flavors. I went home, a little tipsy, with the resolve to call her the next morning. And so I did.
Elle was a sweet and kind woman, filled with adoration for me that she rarely kept to herself. At first, it was quite cute: after our first few dates, she began to tell our mutual friends how much she liked me and how she saw a future with me. By the time we moved in together after a year of serious dating, she was the literal definition of "smitten". She wanted to do everything with me: if I stayed at home playing a video game or catching up on emails, she'd be right next to me on the bed reading a novel or watching TV. If I went out to the supermarket, she would insist on coming along and helping me with the groceries. It got to the point where I wouldn't have been surprised if she had suggested riding a tandem bicycle everywhere we went; she was that attached. The only time we were apart was when we both had to work.
Fast forward another year and a half, and we had firmly tucked three months of marriage under our belts. I had dismissed warnings from my friends about the "ol' ball and chain", disliking the misogyny inherent in that phrase; after all, I loved my wife and I could never imagine her feeling like a burden. But it seemed as if marriage only heightened her infatuation. It began to feel unhealthy. She no longer insisted on accompanying me everywhere I went, but instead, which was somehow far worse, interrogated me at length every time I went out or came home. "Who did you see? Where did you go? What did you talk about?" The rosy glow of love quickly gave way to exasperation and soon enough, I felt myself desperately craving an out.
We had just marked one year of our marriage when the company I worked for decided to acquire a smaller company through a merger. That meant an influx of 37 new employees. The team I worked on gained six new members, five of whom were utterly nondescript, an observation I mentioned to my fellow team member the first day they all started working.
"Wait till you see Angelica," he noted with a wink. He had been part of the steering committee that had decided to carry through with the merger, and he had personally interviewed each incoming member on our team. "She's the last thing from nondescript." He sighed breathily. I was amused at his uncharacteristic behavior, but decided to hold out on forming any opinions about it until I met this Angelica.
On the second day after the merger, I walked into an office with a decidedly changed atmosphere. The buzz of fresh blood had quickly abated, replaced with the dull sensation of "another day", and the five new employees looked comfortably at home, furiously typing away on their keyboards. I looked around the office but still no Angelica. Disappointed, I trudged over to my cubicle.
To my surprise, a woman was already sitting in my seat. I cleared my throat, ready to tell her that she was in the wrong place, when she turned her head to face me and any coherent thoughts, words, sounds I had formed in my mind immediately slipped from my grasp. She was breathtaking. Literally. I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me and the young horny boy in me fumbled inside, prompting me to blurt out, "Excusemeyoureinmyseat."
"What?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She shook her head and leaned in quizzically. Her perfume wafted toward me in the tight space, and my breath hitched in my throat. She smelled amazing. "Is this your cubicle?"
I nodded mutely and she let out a tinkling laugh, shaking her head again. Her hair, a luscious auburn, fanned out behind her as she gathered her things and stood up. "I'm so sorry! I spent forever looking for my seat and decided to just sit for a minute here. New shoes," she said, sheepishly gesturing at her heels.
I barely managed to squeak out a "No problem" before she swept out of my way and into the open space between all the cubicles. I put my coffee down and powered up my computer as the woman paced back and forth. None of the new employees seemed to pay any attention to her pacing.
I felt my heartbeat finally return to a normal pace when there she was, peering over the edge of my cubicle. "I'm sorry to bother you again. I'm Angelica; I just transferred here. I'm totally lost! Do you know where my cubicle might be?" She locked eyes with me, hers a heavenly shade of blue, and I felt my heartbeat quicken again. I nodded.
"Great!" She was smiling at me and I felt my knees turn to jelly. I even grabbed the edge of the desk for support. Without a word, I motioned for her to follow me and I surveyed the rest of the cubicles. I could still smell her perfume, and it was intoxicating. Dizzying, even. And her body - I had not felt lust like that in years, certainly not for Elle.
Dammit, I needed to pull it together. I closed my eyes, regaining composure, and then pointed at the cubicle in the far corner of the office. "Pretty sure that's yours," I said, with a voice that nearly betrayed my nervousness. Then I about-faced and headed back to my cubicle, hoping that Angelica would stay put.
The end of the work day was a reprieve. At 6PM sharp, I shot out of my seat and headed straight for the parking lot. I was making a beeline for my car when I heard my name. "Andrew!" I didn't turn; I knew it was Angelica. I couldn't be tempted again. I sped up and unlocked my car, turning on the engine and peeling out of there as fast as it would let me.
The next few weeks were torture. Despite my best efforts to distance myself, Angelica found ways to talk to me. She would regale me in conversation in the lounge, laughing as she made her morning coffee while I stood, stony-faced. She would ask me questions and touch my arm gently, sending tingles down my spine. She would stand up and stretch at various intervals throughout the day, turning in my direction each time, and though I tried not to look, I couldn't help but sneak a peek at her lithe slim body. She drove me crazy with lust.
A month after I first met her, I somehow ended up taking the elevator with her down to the parking lot. The five seconds we were enclosed in that tight space felt like an eternity as I fixated on the sound of my own ragged breathing. When the doors opened, I stepped forward, fully intending on marching my way to my car and ignoring her. Instead, she stood in my way, her chest heaving and her lip trembling. "Andrew."
I bit my lip and looked upward but she grabbed my chin and pulled me down so I looked directly into her gorgeous eyes. "I want to f**k you so bad," she whispered to me, leaning in to kiss me. And that was it. I couldn't fight it anymore. I pulled her close and kissed her back, relishing the heady rush of touching her. Her hands clung to my arms, her body melting into mine, and all I could think about was how good it felt to touch her, how badly I wanted her. Her mouth was hot and wet against mine, and I could feel her breathing, just as ragged as mine, echo into the minimal space between us. "Let's go home," she murmured.
And so began an affair that I knew was wrong, that I knew I shouldn't have given into, but that I was utterly transfixed by. Elle easily swallowed my lies about having a huge project deadline for my "late hours", but I felt wracked with guilt every time I came home. I would look at her sleeping form in bed even as I removed the clothes that Angelica had nearly ripped off my body a few hours before and think of what a disservice I was doing to a woman who I loved and who loved me so much.
I'm telling you all this so you understand that I do feel guilty. I know I shouldn't have cheated. It was a mistake that I wish I could take back, it was a mistake that I wish I could erase. It's too late now, but if it means anything, I want you all to know that I messed up. I f**ked up real bad.
Because yesterday, Angelica didn't come into work. She didn't call our supervisor to let him know she was sick, so I went to her apartment after work to check in on her. I found her in bed with her throat slit. Her body was cut open vertically and laid bare, her blood fanning out behind her onto the sheets like a pair of macabre angel wings. Her face was frozen in utter terror, and each of her organs was displayed neatly at the foot of the bed. A note laid in wait for me.
I wanted to see if she was as beautiful on the inside. -E

Credit to: viraload