of nurture’s wildness: a novella (book 3, ch. 1)

by Tom Stuckey

1

Ted watched the woman beat through the dense forest and thought her eyes looked wild and strangely not human, but familiar. He re-wound to the part where she was fucking. It was important to get the full story, Ted thought, so that masturbation could take on a transcendental form. He watched her crawl to the bewitched man in a funny head-dress, he looked at the hip bones and the fleshy behind that was so tantalizing coming out of the shorts, as he began to imagine himself as the lucky man who was about to receive her.

After he finished and wiped the cum off his torso, which left a cold, lifeless film behind that felt apart from his somehow, he tossed the tissues into the toilet and flushed, watching a bit of himself being forced down into the sewers. Saddened (ever so slightly) he sat back down on the bed. A heavy anchor in his belly started to shift and haul up, a pressure in his chest and the throat rising, as a single tear rolled down his face. Out of the window, it was a sunny day. Birds sang out, like soldiers at their posts, one calling and another responding. Things like to work together, Ted thought, as he watched a man pushing his child on a swing. He pushed, and the child swung; that was how it worked. To Ted, it always seemed he was missing by half.

Walking out of his apartment, passing some screams coming from one of his neighbours—its true source or meaning, unintelligible—he exited into the sun-splashed street. Ted never quite mastered the walk. It was either too quick, and he’d trip, or it was too slow, and like an unmanned boat in the sea, people would crash into him. Ted knew there were others like him, but he’d never met any of them; instead, he met cops with angry eyes, women with suspicious eyes, saints with damning eyes. He lived in a good part of town in Zone A; that was probably why. ‘Good’ was a very misleading term, and he sensed that behind all those eyes—so many eyes—there was one look that was consistent. Confusion.

He had met Bella online, first on a dating app, and then later over onto a messenger service. She liked to be spoilt, and Ted was one of many men who was happy to oblige. In return, she provided him with a sense of being wanted…and nudes, of course. Bella seemed smart in the way she chose her words, Ted letting himself believe that some of them were even genuine. He had not met an influencer/cam girl before, but she had unexpectedly asked him if he would like to meet her as she was down visiting her family not too far from where he lived. He sat in the coffee shop by the tall glass windows and let the sun warm his cool skin whilst he waited. She was striking from afar in looks with bright blue eyes, brown bobbed hair, and a curvy figure. She also had a devilish smile with little teeth in full lips and eyebrows that raised up when she “turned it on.” On her approaching closer, some of the fantasy naturally began to dissolve; the flesh around her eyes darkened and sore, masked with heavy make-up, and she sniffed a lot, a clear sign she had probably just snorted cocaine. The spirit in her was obviously struggling despite the front of the human body that encased it.

“Hi, hello, pleased to meet you.”

“Yes, good to meet you too.” Ted hugged her. She was taller and dressed in a very sexy, thin, cream dress that looked a out of place amongst the drably attired city workers that milled about at 10 am. They took their seats, and she slung her long leg over the other, pulling down her dress to cover herself.

“You got here ok. Did you take the bus?” Ted asked.

“Yes, I’m staying with my dad, I could of taken his Audi, but it’s very big.” Bella curled the fingers of her right hand and scooped a tumble of chestnut locks that had fallen into her face behind her right ear. Opening her purse, she fumbled through its contents intently, then pulled out a red leather wallet—faded and worn around the corners. With a flip, she presented it to Ted with a smile. “Look how beautiful I was as a child.” In the picture, she was around eight years old. Her smile. radiant.

“Would you like coffee?” He wished he had not seen her that way, so innocent. Quicky, he put it out of his mind.

“Yes, an oat milk cappuccino, please.” She looked uncomfortable behind the long lashes and wired smile, intermittently sniffing and checking her nose. Ted went to get their coffees, hyperaware of every eye in the room. Did people know what he was doing? She was talking loudly and had a lot of energy, like sex walking in and reminding everyone what we were all meant to be doing (or not). The work men pretended not to look at her long legs in the sun. A woman on her laptop turned and scowled at her. Everyone was part of the show, and she was the lead, the villain, the saviour, the downfall of a boring Tuesday morning.

“Here you go.” Ted handed her the cup, and she began to fill it further with sugar. “So, what is it that you do? It said on your profile you are a model and in marketing.”

“Yes, I am going for an interview after here in fact with Este Lander, but I also model and do this.” She spoke loudly, and Ted worried that everyone around them could hear. He spoke a little about himself, namely how he was a photographer (but an unknown one), and she pretended to be interested. Bella did look like a sort of angel, bathed in the sun, dressed in cream, high on the legs, hair high on the head and her long neck, all set against the warm black leather of the furniture.

“Shall we go and have a walk?” She suggested with a cheeky smile.

“Yes.” Ted smiled. He recalled that when asked via text how he wanted to spoil her, he had suggested that he wanted to buy her underwear and watch her try them on in the changing rooms of the shop. She had said that he could see her once the underwear was on but not whilst changing. Two women were in the boutique when they arrived: one female assistant and young woman. The assistant quickly approached to greet them. “All our bra’s come with free panties.” Bella quickly hooked her arm through Ted’s, taking up the role of ‘girlfriend.’

“Thank you. Oh, I love these black ones.” Bella picked up the lace thong and turned to Ted, “You like?”

Ted looked at the tall angel before him (and the suspicious assistant) and said, “Yes, they are nice.” Bella stalked the shelves and displays of the shop, fingering and thumbing intimates, collecting more and more items under her arm. Nervously tallying the bill, Ted attempted to quell her fervour when he could. When enough items were sort, they walked over to the changing rooms, Ted sitting at the end of the corridor stalls. He took out his camera and wound on the film, took a meter of the light, and waited for Bella to come out. The light was dim and sexy. Little hanging lamps and black patterns of lacelike shapes on the walls added to the mood of the space. Bella reappeared after a short while wearing the black thong and bra. Her hips were wide and stood out of the thin material; her breasts were smaller in comparison. Ted asked if he could take her picture, and she immediately struck a pose, raising a hand up the door frame of the cubical and the other on her leg. Ted looked through the finder and studied her breasts, which were visible clear through the thin lace, and her pussy, where a fine strip went up the middle. She smiled and threw her head back, and Ted clicked. Bella disappeared back into the dressing room to try on another pair and re-emerged in some green ones. Click. This went on, and (when possible) Ted lied and said “those” were not good, or “these” were great, but secretly he loved all of them, taking pictures of her in every piece. He wondered what she was thinking. He thought about sex in the changing room. The assistant thought about other things entirely.

Ted stood at the counter and watched the assistant punch in the prices; they kept doubling. Bella needed a wash bag also, according to the assistant, so that was added on as well. Ted thought by this point that the woman behind the counter was in on it too, that Ted should have to pay for seeing the naked stranger. Ted paid.

It was brief, exciting, and sad for Ted, and as they walked to the parking garage, Ted asked her, “Could this ever be sexual?” She looked sharply out from her whizzing world and answered, “Maybe.” She leaned down and gave him a little hug and disappeared into the garage. Ted knew he would never see her again, but he would have a story to tell himself, from time to time, and that was something.

*Read Tom Stuckey’s next installment of Of Nurture’s Wildness (Book III) on September 16, 2025, at 6PM CST.

Photo of Tom Stuckey

BIO: Tom is a writer from Devon in England.  His work can be found at A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Bristol Noir, Nut House Press, and Pulp Magazine. He is the author of The Canary in the Dream is Dead and The Sun Marches upon Us All. Learn more about Tom Stuckey at www.tomstuckey.com.