S
Oh my god. I wrote a hurried response, not even bothering to correct the inevitable typo.
S,
I reach a hand lower over the light fur on your belly, where it closes around your cock and squeezes firmly to coax your silvery essence to the tip. This I swipe with my fingertip. I touch my glistening fingers to my lips and raise my mouth to yours. “Open,” I whisper against your lips, my own mouth opening in illustration like feeding a baby from a spoon. Our tongues meet over our mutually damp fingers, the taste wild, primal. I want more, I need more.
I give you proof by sliding a single finger into my slippery, salty-sweet cleft then offering it to your lips. You lick and suck it dry and then my mouth closes on yours for a deep, sensual kiss. Gray eyes meet green, both gazes glazed by the sensual pheromones of desire that pour off our bodies in shimmering waves.
You go on your way, lips burning a swath over the front of my body. My legs widen in invitation. I reach for your cock and stroke you slowly, deliberately. Your fingers brush up and down over my slit. You want me, don’t you? Yes, it’s true. I see it in your jade eyes. Truth can set us both free. Come to me, lover, for in truth, I can’t resist you.
V
Women have an amazing ability to simmer awhile with all their nerve endings dancing, gathering...waiting. My clit had become a pulse point. I was consciously aware of each heartbeat now. I wanted to be filled and fucked so bad. My mind ran through the contents of my nightstand. No, feeling sorry for myself one day a few months back, I had thrown out that perfectly shaped vibrator. I only kept the electric wand because it also worked wonders on sore muscles. Good god, I throbbed like a mare in heat. A brief thought to call the guy who asked me out for coffee that afternoon popped into my head. “Hello, chestnut-haired man, how would you like to come over and fuck me? I can make coffee afterward.” He’d be shocked to realize just how tempted I was.
Soul-stealing, wonderful V,
You ask if I want you? How can you ask? You fill my every waking thought.
S
I smiled. The words I chose next were a worm on a hook if I ever saw one.
S,
Every waking thought? Tell me, what true thoughts are they? Sex with me in real life?
V
Utterly desirable V,
True thoughts, eh? Then yes, I must admit that I want to fuck you blind! But more than that, I want to make love to you until the lines between us blur and you take my soul completely.
S
Oh my god...
I swallowed hard. The last time a man had said those words to me they made my heart sing. “I want to make love to you too,” I whispered to the enigmatic stranger.
We were cerebrally intimate yet knew nothing whatsoever about each other. But I wanted him, god yes, I did. He implied he was well endowed, and I didn’t care. I didn’t care if he was ancient or young or possessed an athlete’s body or weighed four hundred fifty pounds. I didn’t care. In my mind he had green eyes the color of a still and shady pond. He had a short devil-may-care beard and hair the color of ripe chestnuts. Had I more details he couldn’t have been more desirable in that moment. I read his last email again.
Just as I was about to reply, my doorbell rang.
“Eeep!” I squeaked in surprise, the sound nearly knocking me backwards out of my chair. Sometime in the last seventy-five years, long before I bought my old house, some circus clown had installed a klaxon ahooga for a doorbell. I thought it funny.
I was naked at my desk and for an instant thought I somehow had to get back to my room for clothes. Then I remembered my discarded robe and slippers. My eyes whirled back to the screen. He wouldn’t stay on if I didn’t reply. I could feel it in my gut. The ahooga sounded again. “Ooh!” I stomped toward the door, thoroughly irritated that my internet tryst had been disturbed.
It was Andrea and Kate. My irritation vanished seeing my best friends’ smiling faces through the leaded, beveled glass of the front door.
“Viv, why are you dressed for bed so early?” Andrea laughed.
“I just finished taking a bath,” I told her.
“Come on, girlie, go get dressed. We’re taking you out and won’t take no for an answer!” Kate said.
I had turned down their offers for evenings out so many times in the last eleven months I was actually surprised they still offered.
Andrea made a shooing gesture. “Go go go! Go put on your best outfit. We’re going to the Single File. Don’t give me that look! You’ve been locked up like a monk...or nun or hermit or something. Go!”
I laughed and shook my head. “You guys know how much I hate going to singles bars.”
“This is different,” they both said at once.
“What do you mean different? It’s always the same...like a meat market. Makes me feel like a prized steer being bought by the steak house.” I had an offer of verbal lovemaking sitting in my email inbox. Feeling like so much meat was the last thing I wanted to do.
Andrea laughed, the sound contagious. “No, they have something new. It’s Lady’s Choice night.”
“You’re alone too much.” Her finger out and pointing the way to my bedroom, Kate ordered, “Now go get dressed or all the good seats will be taken!”
I laughingly gave in and went to dress. Maybe they were right. Maybe a flesh-and-blood evening spent in the real world would be good for me. I rummaged through my clothes, trying to decide what to wear out on the town at the last minute, deciding in the end on a nice newer pair of jeans and a black merino sweater. I was just putting in an earring when I heard Andrea ask from down the hall, “Hey, how do I turn on your printer?”
Oh my god! No!
I silently screamed and ran to my home office. Two stunned pairs of eyes turned to meet me in the doorway. “What?” they both asked at once.
“It’s tricky…the printer…” I rushed in and pretended to fiddle with the cord.
“You’ve got mail,” the computer’s speaker announced.
“Should I open this?” Kate asked. She was sitting in my chair with the single bar’s website up on the screen.
“No, don’t bother. I’ll check it later,” I said, feeling glad I had the presence of mind to close the erotic email when the doorbell rang. I didn’t recall doing that.
Kate said, “Okay. This is done.” The printer started to churn out print. “This is our ‘one free drink’ coupon!”
“You’re a cheap-ass, you know that?” Andrea laughingly chided. “Honestly, the money you spend on ink and paper negates the savings on your coupons.”
She grinned and wagged the paper in the air. “I have three-ee!” she sing-songed. “One for each of us.”
Andrea and I both laughed. “Well, that’s different then.”
“I need to go pee, be right back,” Kate told us and headed down the hall to the bathroom.
“I closed your email. Kate didn’t see,” Andrea said seriously. I could see the question in her brown eyes. “Who’s this S?”
I swallowed, feeling trapped. I loved her and she loved me, and we could share anything. But what would she say if I explained that I had an erotic pen pal? What would she say if I said I talked dirty to some stranger? I knew. She’d throw words of caution at me like so many caltrops scattered on the ground. “I can’t talk about it yet,” I told her, sincerely hoping she’d understand.
Andrea cocked her head and leveled me a gaze that had concern written all over it. “I didn’t read it all, just the part on the screen. I can only guess what page one said. He’s hot. Where’d you meet him?”
I felt a knot in my stomach. I knew what his last page said. I knew what she’d seen. Before I could answer, Kate said from the doorway, “Meet who?”
Andrea grinned, but her look at me before she turned to Kate spoke volumes. It said, No I won’t tell her but you better call me tomorrow and explain what the hell is going on. To Kate she said, “Later, we have men to meet!”
It was nearly midnight when the c
ab dropped me off. I was still grinning from ear to ear as I fumbled the key in the lock. Two margaritas, one paid for by my coupon, and one shot of tequila bought for me by a very handsome man had made me tipsy. It was fun. I laughed and interacted with men, real honest-to-goodness men. We danced with them, and we teased. We danced with ourselves and laughed some more.
As Andrea was happily married, she exuded a vibration of don’t ask me for more than a dance. But Kate on the other hand had given out the phone number to the dry cleaners down on South Street to more than one persistent man, and I myself declined a half dozen phone numbers from dance partners who wanted more than a dance. It was a nice warm feeling being a desirable creature again, even if those doing the desiring were less than desirable themselves. I hadn’t felt this way in ages. I had a full-color rainbow now, and the spectrum was brilliant.
With one day left in the work week, I gave myself permission to call in sick. It wasn’t entirely false… I was sure to have some kind of tequila headache in the morning. I dialed the office voicemail. “Hello, Audrey, I’m not feeling well and won’t be coming in Friday. Ask Pete to handle any emergencies for me though I doubt we’ll have any. All other calls, just tell them I’ll be back Monday or funnel them to voicemail. Thanks.” I hung up and went to shower the smoky bar smell out of my hair.
I should just turn in. It’s too late, I’m too tipsy. I wasn’t going to go back to my computer tonight. I told myself this again as I walked to my office, but I wasn’t listening. I had three emails from S. I went to the first, presumably the one after his telling me he wanted to make love to me.
Dearest V,
I’m afraid I shocked you with my candor. Is this so?
S
I read it again, my fuzzy, tequila-spiked brain momentarily confused. “Oh you think my lack of reply means your last statement turned me off,” I reasoned to the screen. “Quite the opposite, you sexy man.” I read his next email.
Incomparable V,
I find myself frustrated unable to see your storm-cloud-gray eyes beyond this mode of communication, unable to read for myself in their depths what you are feeling at this moment. Tell me, sweet V, have I offended you? Please reply.
S
I shook my head, “No, I’m not offended. I was away, that’s all.”
The last email said only this:
Precious V,
I’ve sensed from the beginning that you would not want to chat. I ask you now, please consider. Highlight my user name and right click. I so want to talk with you. Please consider.
S
My heart started to pound. He was right. I didn’t like chat, especially the lack of emotion and the time it took. When the internet was new and only the geeks and nerds held the reins, you were guaranteed an intelligent conversation. Not anymore. Back then on rainy days with nothing to do, I even dabbled in cyber sex from time to time with people who could turn a phrase and build a scene. But now, blah. Today the internet was too easy to use, where “come on” lines such as “what size bra do you wear?” and *slam*slam*slam* indicated the verbal coupling had finally gotten into “the act.” No, it had been years since I cybered. But I knew it would be different with S. I knew it.
I got up for three aspirin and a huge glass of water—Andrea’s husband Bob’s famous cure for the inevitable hangover non-drinkers like me always got the day after. I sat down again, read the last email, and considered.
He didn’t say anything about cybersex. No, he was talking about talking. I was almost scared to talk to him. The anonymous distance and separation through email was like armor. I felt safe in email. It was like the difference between a phone call and a face to face conversation. We had been intimate dozens of times. Chat was still in a word format, wasn’t it? Just quicker than email. I talked myself into it. Then the room began to spin. Ugh. Tequila. I just typed a quick sentence. The evening’s partying was making me feel too ill at that moment for more.
S,
I wouldn’t mind chatting. I’m off work tomorrow.
V
* * * *
The next day I woke to full early-afternoon sunlight with the sensation of a mile of cotton wadding in my mouth, a throb between my eyes and, curiously, a cramp in my left thigh. I assessed and remembered the reason. Somewhere in the night I discovered if I planted one foot on the floor the bed would stop spinning. Padding like a zombie to the bathroom, I asked myself why on earth I drank so much. I had just two margaritas and one shot of tequila. Compared to my partying girlfriends, I didn’t really have all that much but still… I felt like I drained the bottle of tequila down to the worm.
“What a lightweight. You’ll be useless at work today,” I admonished the reflection in the hall mirror then I remembered. Twinkling gray eyes met twinkling gray eyes. “No you won’t. You have a day off!”
Twenty minutes later made all the difference in the world as did a shower, a cup of coffee, and dry toasted bagel. I felt almost human again.
I sat before my computer and read the last email my tipsy self had left open.
Precious V,
I’ve sensed from the beginning that you would not want to chat. I ask you now, please consider. Highlight my user name and right click. I so want to talk with you. Please consider.
S
“I’m sure you’re working,” I told the email as if it were alive, deciding then and there that I’d just click his user name to read his profile if he had one. I right clicked on his user name. I felt... What exactly? Shy? Why was I feeling shy? I nearly x’d out the box when his words popped into view.
:) You’re here. I was hoping you’d come, V.
I smiled. He was hoping... I typed in I’m sorry I left like that last night. I had friends stop by unexpectedly. They took me out for awhile.
I’m glad you’re here now. This isn’t so bad, is it?
What, you mean chatting? No, I suppose not. I’m surprised you’re not at work, I told him, guessing he took the day off like I did. I no sooner had the thought when he said...
You mentioned you were taking the day off. I thought it a splendid idea so I did the same.
I smiled at the screen, trying to remember when I said I was taking the day off. Oh, yeah, I said to myself as the recollection solidified. That was the last email I sent.
He said, I have a question. Why do you dislike chat, cyber chat specifically?
The internet is populated by dullards.
LOL Yes, it certainly appears so, doesn’t it? And the other reasons?
I smiled, sensing the enigmatic man knew me somehow. There is a gross lack of finesse in chat.
And...?
Honestly?
Of course.
I very much enjoy our emails. I’d hate to see them end.
Then I will be sure to send them, adorable V. I hold my hand out to you. Take my hand, lovely one. We have much to discuss.
I take your hand. Your fingers are warm, the hand itself larger than mine.
I grinned, recalling his original riddle. I could almost hear him laugh when he replied, My large hand leads you to my bed. No clothes, V, not here, not now. Take them off for me. I’ll do the same here.
Oh my god, right to the chase. Yes, I mechanically obeyed the suggestion. Once more my robe was tossed over my chair. I left my fuzzy socks on my cold feet and smiled. He didn’t need to know. I typed...
I follow you to your bed. There are rose petals there as before.
Yes, they are there. English roses to be exact. Are you beautifully bare, my sweet?
Yes. My heart was hammering in my chest.
As am I.
I could see him in my mind’s eye, large hand gliding back and forth over his massive hard cock. My clit began to pulse as hot desire pooled between my legs. I wrote,
I stand watching you standing naked at the edge of the bed. Fill your hand with your cock. Tell me what I see.
Oh, sensual V, lie back for me on your side, bend one knee, and tuck your delicate foot under your leg. I
adore the way your alabaster breast falls, the shadow below the fullness another shade of rose. What do you see when I stand looking at you? You watch my hand circle my hard cock, hard, hot to the touch and oh so sensitive, V. My balls fill gazing upon your beauty. They feel heavy, as heavy as my cock. See me stroke, darling V, see my hand glide along this shaft and know with a certainty that my body has responded to you alone.”
I felt a flutter in my chest and took a deep breath to steady myself. I could see him in his words.
I watch you, thinking you a most splendid male. Stroke faster for me, just a little. Let me see the heat the friction builds.
And what will you give me in return, lovely V?
I’ll lay back and spread my legs...
I’ll need more than that, sweetheart.
I smiled. I really loved when he challenged me like that.
I’ll use my left hand to part my pussy lips. See how rosy watching you has made me?
Yes, I see your rosy center, the dew glistening. What else do I see as I stroke faster?
You see the fingers of my right hand tracing my velvet lips.
Hermes Online (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 6