Banging the Superhero Read Online Free Page A

It was going to be a mess to clean up. Usually, she didn't use the cast iron for such simple things, but she was treating herself. The extra work in cleaning would be worth it. The seasoned pan would add flavor to her eggs.
    After placing the pan on the stove, she moved to the fridge, singing a little ditty her grandmother had taught her; the lyrics had something to do with a lady waiting for her true love to sweep her off her feet. Ultimately, for Alice's life, it was bullshit.
    Prince Charming had not shown up. She'd be happy at this point with a frog, considering the amount of snakes she'd gone out with lately. But like the eggs, the song comforted her, and she found herself feeling better already.
    She took out the carton of eggs, placed it on the counter and shut the fridge. At the small noise from behind her, she froze.
    What was that?
    Was someone in the house? She swallowed a squeak of fear and discovered her mouth had gone completely dry.
    If someone was in the house then, right at this very second, they were privy to an eyeful, starting with her bare ass, which had been left uncovered by the apron.
    Fisting her hands at her side, she mustered the courage to turn around. This was her house. She'd be damned if she'd allow herself to be spooked.
    She whirled around screaming a very unladylike, "Ahh," at the top of her voice.
    Darting left and right, she scanned the kitchen, even strained to see the living room, located directly to the left of her cooking area.
    Nothing. No one was there.
    "Shit."
    "Alice, cut it out; you have to calm down. It was a freak thing, nothing to get yourself worked up about at home. This is your safe zone. Make your eggs." She spoke aloud, feeling like the sound of her voice seemed out of place in her all-too-quiet kitchen. But some things needed to be said and not just thought. Even if only you heard the words, they still warranted the effort.
    Feeling better after her self-delivered pep talk, she went back to the process of making her eggs. Just as she reached for the pan, the gas on the stove ignited on the burner, nearly searing her hand. She jumped back. What the hell? She hadn't lit the burner yet.
    Gasping, she spun around as a strange noise sounded behind her. The refrigerator door opened and closed—opened and closed. Oh god, this was like what happened at the studio, only it had been the mixer and the toaster, instead of the stove and the fridge.
    At once, all five burners lit, blazing to life. She took another step back and whirled around. Instinct told her to run from the house at top speed. Instead, she forced herself to stay where she was even as her hands shook. She couldn't just walk out. The house might burn down. She needed to do . . . something. But what? She bit her bottom lip as she contemplated charging out the front door.
    Turning on her heel, she ran for the basement. She had to turn off the gas in order to prevent a disaster, and she needed to hurry. She flipped on the basement light, only to have it turn off before she'd made it down two steps.
    "Mother fucker."
    Whoever was doing this to her was dead, so dead. She'd string them up by their toenails. Or maybe she'd pay someone to do it. But that wasn't the point. Rounding the corner, she came to the fuse box that sat next to the gas line for the house. All she needed to do was to shut it off.
    In the dark, she couldn't see anything.
    Before she'd finished grumbling, the television across the game room turned on and upstairs she could hear the vacuum cleaner do the same. She glared at the TV
    screen, only to recognize a video of what had happened to her earlier in the studio played in the background. She was the topic on one of the entertainment shows.
    She laughed. A cold laugh, as if her world had gone insane. What else was she supposed to do? Craziness such as this didn't happen to people. Why was it happening to her?
    The lights flipped on. She looked around desperately for the shut off valve for the gas line. It