by A. C. Arthur
MercedesGirl926: That’s the only way I know how to be.
Del let his head fall back against the leather recliner. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as what he wanted to say to her next played through his mind. He’d thought about it all night at the bar. What he wanted from her? What he thought he could handle? What might be disrespectful to her, or to him? All of the questions and answers had run in circles until this very moment.
Del: I’d like to see you.
He hit send but immediately followed that message with another.
Del: Send me a picture of any part of you. Just something so that I know this is real.
He stared at the words on his phone’s screen and considered how insane this woman probably thought he was. His heart beat wildly in his chest while he waited for her response.
It didn’t come quickly and he wondered if, once again, he’d said the wrong thing. She’d said she only knew how to be honest. Well, he was being honest. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, and in a very sexual way. How that was possible if he’d never seen her before, Del couldn’t say. And yes, this physical urgency was his fault. If he hadn’t gone so long without, maybe he wouldn’t be as needy as he’d been feeling in the past week. The other part however, she’d contributed to equally. If she weren’t so easy to talk to, so down to earth and interesting, then he wouldn’t be as drawn to her as he was. He wouldn’t have wanted to send that first private message to her and he certainly wouldn’t have kept the insane hours he did just so that he could communicate with her.
The phone buzzed and Del hurriedly looked at the screen.
MercedesGirl926: Not over this site. What’s your number?
They were on a social network site. Sometimes Del forgot about that as they messaged back and forth. He’d detested social media so much in the years since it had blossomed that he couldn’t believe he’d actually been using it as much as he had in the past month. Of course, that was work related and this wasn’t.
She wanted his number so she could text him a picture. He closed his eyes and sighed. This was such a bad idea. How many phone lines had he dumped during the course of an investigation? Thousands. And how many of those phone dumps also consisted of text messages, photos and any other history stored on cell phones? Again, thousands. And each time he’d shaken his head at how much information people voluntarily gave away via electronic devices. Didn’t they know that nothing was safe from those who either had the power, or ones who had the inclination to find it?
Maybe they did and just didn’t care.
He must be in that category, because Del typed in his number.
A couple minutes later his phone buzzed again.
Del saved the number to his contacts under her screen name. Then he went back to the text and looked at the picture.
His body tightened, dick stretching until the towel was tented.
The picture was of one long, bare leg. Skin almost the exact deep brown color as his on a perfectly formed calf and thigh that looked soft to the touch. His finger hoovered at the very edge of the phone’s screen as Del wondered if he swiped left, would he be treated to what was beyond that lovely thigh.
Now, he was aroused and flummoxed as he considered sending her a picture in return. It was only fair to put himself out there in the same way he’d requested of her. It took a few tries because in addition to hating social media, he was only in the habit of using his phone to check email and text messages and make calls. When he finally had an agreeable shot, he sent the picture of his bare chest and waited like he’d just turned in a test for grading.
Her response eventually appeared.
MercedesGirl926: Can I amend my answer to a question you asked a while ago?
He didn’t know what to say and it didn’t matter because she sent another text.
MercedesGirl926: When you asked what I liked. I didn’t have this pic. I definitely like a well-defined chest.
He grinned like a kid.
Del: And I definitely like long legs that can be wrapped tightly around my waist.
MercedesGirl926: There was a time when I was called gangly. But now my long limbs could wrap around your waist and your neck securing me tightly against you.
He swallowed and let his legs fall open. His dick was so hard it ached and he finally unhooked the towel so that it slipped down into the chair and his bobbing erection was free.
Del: I’d like you wrapped around me. I’d like to be deep inside you.
MercedesGirl926: So deep I would feel completely full. I’d like that very much.
Del: How much? Enough that you would use your fingers to act as if I were actually there with you right now?
In the time that Del waited for a response, he used a hand to grab his erection, wrapping his fingers tightly around its base and squeezing.
MercedesGirl926: We do it at the same time. Five seconds after you read this message, put your phone down and act as if I were there.
He groaned after reading those words. Was he really doing this? He was a thirty-one-year-old man who was more than capable of finding a date and having a woman in his bed at any moment. He didn’t have to resort to sexting or online dating of any sort. Yet, here he was, wanting desperately to do anything she said.
He placed the phone on the table beside the recliner and lay his head back against the cool leather. She’d said he should act as if she were there with him. What would he do if she were? What would he want her to do?
Del wanted her legs wrapped around him, just as he’d said. Still able to see the picture she’d sent clearly in his mind, he closed his eyes and imagined both long, dark brown legs rubbing against his waist. Her skin would be smooth, legs strong as she lifted her hips and adjusted herself so the bare flesh of her center could ease down over him. His hand began to move over his length. Up and down in a series of quick motions. He imagined her wherever she lived, lying on her bed, legs spread, fingers working her hot pussy, the way he was working his dick.
If he were there with her, he’d put his mouth where her fingers undoubtedly were now. He’d suck the plump folds of her pussy, press his tongue against the tight bud of her clit. Del’s hand moved slower for a moment as he circled his wrist, up and then back down again. His breathing quickened until he could hear himself panting loudly. In his mind she was moving her hips now, lifting them slightly off the bed. Two fingers would ease into her moist opening while the other pressed against her clit. She would arch her back and moan. Del’s ministrations grew faster. He pumped mercilessly into his hand. Her fingers would move faster, sliding in and out as her essence dripped slowly. She was panting now. He could hear her sweet, sex-husky voice echoing in his head. His mouth was open as his panting turned to all out moans, his hand moving faster while the other gripped the arm of the recliner. He lifted his hips, pumping fiercely while swirling his wrist, his hand creating a magnificent friction up and down his rigid length. She would scream with her release. Del grunted and moaned as his spurted and oozed down his hand. He thrust his hips in a stiff motion, still pumping his length until his heart beat as if it might thump right out of his chest.
When his breathing had almost returned to normal, Del stood. He walked into the bathroom and cleaned himself before returning to his bedroom and pulling on a pair of shorts. He removed the towel from the recliner and tossed it into the hamper before picking up his phone from the table. There was no new text or message from MercedesGirl926.
Del moved toward his bed. He plugged the phone into the charger and sat down heavily.
Was he making a complete fool of himself for a woman he might never see?
You were wonderful last night.
Rylan read the text for the hundredth time today while sitting in her car. She’d just pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine when she took her phone off the car charger and was about to slip it into the back pocket of her jeans. She was heading into Game Changers for a much-needed drink. To say it had been a roug
h day at the shop would be an understatement.
Yet each time she’d read the message GCSports18 had sent a little after ten this morning, she somehow felt better. Just like last night, or rather even earlier this morning as she’d lay in her bed waiting for his nightly messages as if she were some love-struck teenager. Who was she kidding? Rylan hadn’t experienced a soul-shattering crush, or any form of unrequited love as a teenager, because she hadn’t dated until Ty Givens, one of the students in her trade school class. Just as puberty had seemed to skip right over her, so had experience with boys. Still, Rylan witnessed her fair share of tears and hopelessness by way of Camy who fell in and out of love with the speed of light. Her best friend had always been prettier and shapelier than Rylan. Just as Naomi was, but Rylan refused to keep count of the bad breaks she was dealt in life.
Why did GCSports18 only contact her in the middle of the night?
That thought sprang to mind as Rylan slipped the phone into her back pocket and pressed the button on her keychain to engage the alarm system on her car. The 1969 Mercedes 280SL Roadster was Rylan’s sixteenth birthday present from her father, and thus her most cherished possession. She crossed the street and reached for the front door of the bar but paused before pulling it open because another thought occurred to her. A thought that made her feel sick to her stomach and angry as hell.
What if GCSports18 was married? Was that why he only messaged her at night? When his wife and perhaps his kids were in bed asleep while he sat in his den having phone sex with her?
Her cheeks warmed and she yanked the door open. The noise from a full house at the bar greeted her. Music sounded in the background while on the wall of televisions directly across from the bar college football games, MSNBC, a music video channel, and a documentary on Serena Williams played. She waved at Maxie who was at the hostess stand using the tablet to find seating for the next person in the short waiting line and kept moving until she was on the red plush carpeted stairs that led up to the Skybox. The rope that usually blocked the space and signaled a private event was in progress on the upper level was down, so she was allowed to go up to the quieter area in the bar.
Rylan needed to unwind. She was being stiffed for a four-thousand-dollar bill and holding the 2016 Lamborghini Aventador hostage wasn’t as effective as she’d planned. She needed that money and about twenty-one thousand more in order to make the down payment and get the small business loan from the bank.
“Hey Slick!”
Rylan looked toward the bar where Rock was standing and lifted a hand to wave at him. She’d thought about dropping down into one of the red leather couches and ordering a steady flow of vodka shots until she passed out, but sitting at the bar gazing at the six foot four Samoan former pro wrestler definitely had its own decompressing benefits.
“Hey. Quiet up here tonight,” Rylan said while sliding onto a bar stool.
Rock wore jeans and a fitted gray t-shirt with the Game Changers name and logo on the left side. His inky black hair was pulled back and most likely bound by a black ban as usual. Rylan never considered herself a fan of long hair on men, but Rock definitely pulled it off well.
“Yeah. I opened up here as overflow for downstairs. But only the regulars know to come on up,” he said. “What can I get you?”
“Vodka,” she replied and held up a finger.
Rock raised one thick eyebrow in question.
She rolled her eyes. “Alright, put it in a glass with ice to water it down, Dad,” she snapped, exaggerating the last word.
Rock’s family lived down the street from her while they were growing up. He had two older sisters that Naomi hung out with, but Rock felt as if he were a big brother to all four of them. At that time, he’d been a pain in the ass, but Rylan had missed him terribly in the years he’d been away at college and then traveling on the wrestling circuit.
He smiled and gave her a nod. “Good girl.”
“I am over the legal drinking age, you know,” she countered.
“And you’re also driving back to your apartment alone. So, one vodka on the rocks coming up,” he said.
Rylan looked away from him in mock disdain. She lifted her arms over her head, clasping her fingers together as she stretched and tried to let thoughts of the body shop and the marital status of the mysterious GCSports18 slip from her mind. Her phone buzzed as she brought her arms back down to her side and she grabbed it from her back pocket. She ignored the text message from her mother and set the phone on the bar top. Rock delivered her drink. Rylan didn’t waste a second but picked up the glass and emptied it in two gulps.
“Another one,” she said and tapped on the bar to get Rock’s attention.
When he gave her a knowing look, Rylan reminded him that she was a paying customer, before getting up to go to the restroom. She, at least knew, how to pay for services that were rendered, or in this case, alcoholic beverages, as a normal person would. Why hadn’t the rich guy from D.C. who dropped his car off at her shop two weeks ago learned that basic lesson in life? Damn, she was in a horrible mood. Which was shocking because this morning she’d awakened with her body still humming from the intense orgasm she’d had only hours before. The orgasm that had been precipitated by a gorgeously sculpted chest pic and the messages of a man she’d never seen before.
Rylan once again sat at the bar. She sipped slowly on her second drink because she knew Rock was going to protest heavily about giving her another one. As her mind would not be quieted and she felt she had to choose the lesser of two evils, she picked up her phone and started to send him a text. If he was married, it would serve him right if his wife picked up his phone at some point and learned of his wandering ways. Great, she sounded just like her mother when Estelle had first assumed Will was staying out so late at night because he was with another woman. Of course, it turned out her father had only cheated on his wife and family with the casino that had left him practically broke. Rylan opened the app instead and sent him a message.
Rylan: How was your day?
That’s how he always started their conversations. Tonight, she would be the initiator. She checked the time and noted it was just after eight. Was he at home right now, having dinner with his wife two daughters and two sons? Was his minivan parked in the driveway as his family prepared to watch A Christmas Story or some other holiday movie? She took another drink to help wash away the thoughts that were now giving her a headache.
Why should she even care? They were just chatting. Right? Okay, this morning was more than a chat, but really, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Rylan had masturbated before. So many times. And he was a grown man, she was fairly certain he’d gotten himself off more than once in his lifetime. So, there, no big deal. Except she’d thought about that not-a-big-deal episode most of the day. It had been the first time she’d been able to vividly imagine that the fingers on her heated flesh actually belonged to a man, instead of herself. And oh, had it felt so good. She closed her eyes to the thought and then startled when she heard the low moan.
Dammit! Was that her?
Her eyes shot open and she sat up straighter on the stool. She needed another drink. Shaking her head with that thought, she was just setting her glass down again when her phone buzzed.
GCSports18: Pretty good. Just about to get off work for the night.
Oh wow! He’d replied. And it wasn’t after midnight. What did that mean?
Rylan: I just got off too. Are you busy tonight? Do you want to get a drink?
Her thumbs were moving faster than her brain and before she could stop herself, she hit send.
What the hell was she doing?
Did she want to see him? And when she did see him, what was going to happen next? Sex with a stranger? That was a whole different ball game compared to phone sex in the privacy of her own bedroom.
GCSports18: Sure. But I’m hungry. Let’s meet at Margie’s. 9:00?
So, he did live in Providence. She’d been fairly certain of that fact since they’d both be
en here at the bar the night they’d first met. But now he wanted to meet at Margie’s in forty-five minutes. She dropped her phone back onto the bar top as if it had burned her fingers.
“Angry with your phone?” Rock asked as he walked by and caught the phone before it could topple over the edge of the bar onto his carefully stacked glasses.
Rylan shook her head and shrugged. “No. Ah, it just fell out of my hand.”
“Uh huh. Well, I’ll get you a glass of water,” he said and held the phone out to her.
But before Rylan could grab the phone, it vibrated. The screen lit up and Rock looked down at it.
“Oh, you’re on that app too?” he asked. “Noah said it was really popular. That’s why he wanted the bar to have a page so we could advertise all our events and things like that.”
“Really?” Rylan asked as she tried not to snatch the phone out of his hand. Instead she accepted it in as normal a way as possible. The last thing she needed was for Rock to see her receiving messages about having a hook-up tonight.
Was that what it was going to be? A hook-up? If so, she needed to run home and grab a really quick shower. She was grimy from being at the body shop all day and didn’t have on the correct underwear.
“What’s the page name so I can follow you?” she asked, trying to keep their conversation casual, even though her mind was whirling with thoughts of her online booty call.
“I think it’s just the name of the bar. But you should really ask Del since he manages the page and does all the posting and stuff. His screen name is GCSports18 because he was incapable of coming up with anything more original,” Rock told her.
Rylan had already begun typing in the screen name without really listening to what Rock had said. But when she did, she paused. Her heart suddenly skidded to an almost halt in her chest. The periodic thump was loud and the pit of dread forming in her stomach was hot.