[ WP ] `` Stop thinking about me ! I hate when people think about me in their minds . It makes me feel all itchy . ''

He was minding his own business and the slap came out of nowhere. 
 
 `` Stop thinking about me!'' she screeched. `` I hate when people think about me in their minds. It makes me feel all itchy.'' 
 
 He stared at her, nonplussed. The white length of coaxial cable dangled from the end of his fingers. A few feet away, the unassuming black cable box waited on the shelf below the woman's television, waiting patiently to be plugged into the wider world. 
 
 `` I'm, uh, not thinking about you,'' he stumbled. `` I'm just trying to get your cable hooked up.'' 
 
 `` Liar,'' she said, her voice heavy with contempt. `` I can *tell*. There's an itch, and I ca n't scratch it decently.'' 
 
 He looked the woman up and down. She seemed normal enough: mid-30s, commonly pretty, blonde hair, clothes from Old Navy, hair from a local salon. Those eyes, though... was there something in there? Something off? They were blue-green, the only real standout feature on her otherwise sorority sister calendar face. Was that glow burgeoning insanity, or something else? 
 
 `` Ma'am,'' he said politely, `` I do n't know what to tell you. I'm thinking of this installation, and that's it, I swear.'' 
 
 `` Why am I itching so badly right now, then? I *always* itch when someone in the room is thinking of me in *that* way.'' 
 
 `` What way, ma'am?'' he asked, and instantly regretted it. 
 
 `` A *lustful* way,'' she hissed. `` Like you're thinking of what I look like naked, stripping me with your mind. It's awful, whatever you're thinking of, I bet. Nasty. *Dirty*. Why ca n't you act professionally?'' 
 
 He kept his face carefully composed, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes. *Darryl's gon na hear about this later* he thought. Of course he would. Once in a while you'd get one of these kind of customers. You were stealing stuff from them, or you were leaving a window unlocked so you could break in later. You were eyeing them up, or their daughter, or their son sometimes. You were bringing a foul smell into their house. Even worse were the ones who were n't being hostile about their weirdness. The kind that thought life was a porno and that calling in the cable guy was like calling in for a pizza with extra sausage. 
 
 `` Ma'am, I swear to god I'm not mentally undressing you,'' he said, as calmly as he could. `` I have a wife at home, I'm a very faithful guy.'' *Plus you are n't my type* he added silently, but that was n't the sort of thing you could ever backpedal from. Once that came out, there was an HR call coming for sure. 
 
 `` I do n't believe you,'' she snapped, glaring at him. `` Just finish the job and get out. I'll be calling your company once you leave.'' 
 
 She left the room and he sighed heavily. Finish the job. He nodded dolefully and got to it. The cable goes into the cable box. Then out to the neighbourhood junction box to make sure the switches were set properly. Come back, start the box, go through the setup. Go through the channel set process, make sure the on demand functions were working, run the diagnosis on the hard drive in the PVR so they did n't get an angry call when this woman's *Grey's Anatomy* or *Survivor* did n't record properly. When he was finished he annotated the invoice and walked through the house towards the entrance. He planned on dropping the invoice on the table by the door and getting back to the shop as quickly as he could, but the woman was in the kitchen, right next to the front entrance, and was waiting for him. 
 
 He handed her the invoice and she took it and tossed it onto the kitchen counter without looking at it. She seemed much calmer; the jitters that had been running through her in the living room seemed to have subsided. 
 
 `` Well, I'm glad you've put those filthy thoughts out of your mind,'' she said, her voice calmer. `` I'm sorry to have snapped at you but I'm *very* sensitive to those sorts of things and you caught me by surprise. It's not nice when your lady parts start itching abominably and there's a stranger in the living room that's the cause of the problem.'' 
 
 `` Sure,'' he said. `` Sure.'' 
 
 She picked up a glass of orange juice she'd poured herself and played with the straw, running up and down it's length with the tips of her index finger and her thumb. It was n't until she started biting her lip that he clued in to what she was doing. 
 
 `` Anyway, I should go,'' he said, backing slowly towards the hallway. 
 
 `` Oh?'' she asked, her voice falling into disappointment. `` Are you sure you need to? Maybe your job could take a little longer. You could get a little overtime, and I could get a little...'' She glanced with a smirk towards his belt. `` Or a big...'' 
 
 *Ma'am, I would n't fuck you with a ten foot dildo* was what wanted to come out. It bulged out of his solar plexus and begged to be said. He liked the job though, most days, and 
 `` Yeah, sorry ma'am,'' he said, `` got ta keep it professional, you know? If you have any issues with your service, there's a service number on the invoice you can call. Have a nice day.'' 
 
 He walked out and left by the front entrance; he did n't give her time to try anything else. *What a piece of work* he thought as he climbed into the company van. *Darryl will get a laugh out of this story*. 
 
 ==== 
 
 When he arrived to work the next day Darryl was waiting for him with a large black coffee, and he knew immediately that something was up. 
 
 `` That house you were at yesterday, out on Maple Lane?'' Darryl asked. He nodded. `` The cops are gon na be by a little later to ask you some questions about it, and the woman there.'' 
 
 *Here we go* he thought. *She's saying that I came on to her, or that I assaulted her. I should have figured. * 
 
 `` Oh, why is that?'' he asked, trying to keep his voice level and innocent. Darryl let out a big nervous laugh. 
 
 `` Lady turned up dead last night,'' he said. `` Worse n' dead, really. Cut up, sliced open. Raped, of course. These sickos always got ta mix in a rape with the violence. Cop that came by this morning looking for you said it was the worst thing he'd seen in ten years. Blood all over the place, and the smell. Jeezus.'' 
 
 `` What do they want with me?'' 
 
 `` Oh, I think they have to question you. I know you were at home with the wife last night and you'll have an alibi that'll check out, but the cop was saying that there was no sign of a break-in, and the neighbours did n't see anyone but you come up to the house all day or at night. Dogs would have started barkin', I guess.'' 
 
 `` Cop liked to talk I guess.'' 
 
 `` Yeah, you know the type. Does n't want to get back to the job, more n' happy to chat over a coffee in the morning.'' 
 
 `` Sure, sure.'' 
 
 *I* always *itch when someone in the room is thinking of me in* that *way* he heard her voice seethe in his mind. Always.
