by Nicki Elson
Cliff cleared his throat, reminding himself of his promise to Karen, and lowered into his chair, vowing to keep things all business for the rest of the meeting. “Chelsea and Jackson can fill you in on the particulars of the documents, but there’s something I want to bring to your attention. As the program grows, it’d be a good idea to look for space other than classrooms at schools and park district buildings. The more you rely on them, the more they can claim a right to get involved.”
Patty bit at her bottom lip, her forehead scrunching. “I’d love to leave them out of it altogether, but it’s important to make the programs convenient for students with working parents. If it’s too far for those kids to get to on their own, it might as well be in China.”
“Point taken,” Cliff said. “I’ll make sure the bylaws are airtight, so it won’t be an issue.”
“That’s why we pay you the big bucks.” Patty lifted her mug. “Oh, wait, we don’t pay you at all.” She winked her pretty eye as she took a sip.
Later that night back at his place, Cliff was agitated. It had been months since he’d had a date, much less slept with anyone. He supposed that was why the innocent, meaningless wink from Patty had lit a flame in his groin that only seemed to grow stronger since he’d left her. The fact that she was forbidden fruit didn’t help matters.
Slouched on the sofa in front of the TV, wearing sweats and a T-shirt, he tried to focus on the cult-classic police show he’d recorded earlier in the week. It was useless. He needed to engage his mind more actively. Claire had said she wouldn’t be available to play Castleabra for a few days, so he rifled through his other games, settling on a universe he hadn’t been in for a while.
His lips twitched. This was exactly what he needed—a little time with the girls at the Mud Club, set deep inside the red planet featured in Mars Outlaws. After fighting his way through a few screens and earning a bonus, he arrived at the club’s entrance and paid the cover charge. The club was set in a cave featuring a long, wide central hall that branched into several smaller rooms—for privacy. Within each room was a natural hot tub of sorts. They were like hot springs, but with a thicker, mud-like substance bubbling inside. C_Dubs—Cliff’s screenname in this universe—selected an unoccupied room and stripped out of his tunic, vest, and trousers.
First touching a toe into the pool and then stepping into the shallow edge, he lowered. Steam rose around him as his virtual body disturbed the warm pool. He took a seat on a high ridge, allowing the mud to crawl to just below his naked chest. He propped his elbows onto the stony floor behind him and leaned back, waiting. The surface of the pool stretched roughly twenty feet in front of him, its substance too dense to see through.
Ripples at the edge of the brown surface were the first sign he wasn’t alone. A slender, flipper-like foot broke the surface. As it slid back under, another flipper broke next to it. Moments later, a head emerged just a few feet in front of him. Small rivers of sludge slid down from its crown, leaving behind glossy, straight hair and a lovely, high-cheeked face with large purple, gem-like eyes. The mud maiden smiled, rising farther from the murky bath. Thick liquid rolled off the mounds of her perfect breasts.
From here on out, C_Dubs would be on autopilot, leaving Cliff free to touch himself, simulating what his character must have felt as the maiden reached forward. Both of her hands stayed under the surface, stroking him, as indicated by the rise and fall of her shoulders. C_Dubs moaned, and she giggled. The mud bath on either side of him shivered, and two more maidens appeared.
The one to his left curled her scaled fingers around his jaw and turned his face toward hers. A long, snakelike tongue slithered from her mouth into his. The maiden on his other side attached her lips to his throat, suckling while she stretched her webbed fingers over his chest, rubbing circles. Cliff’s headphones filled with deep groans and high-pitched squeals of pleasure.
He bit his lips together, muffling his own moans as he fisted himself. The beautiful mythical creature in front of him splashed out of site. When her shiny, rounded bottom popped above the surface, surging gently forward and back just two feet away, he knew exactly where her mouth was. He pumped harder, imagining the hybrid women exciting and indulging his various pleasure points. Yearning for the warmth of a real woman’s flesh against his, he ignored the coolness of his apartment’s seventy-two degrees.
The maiden kissing him released his mouth and pulled his face against her peaked nipples. C_Dubs feasted and reached down to grab the back of the first girl’s head, pumping her faster and harder upon him. His ears filled with grunts and moans.
Cliff gasped, half-shouting into his empty apartment. He’d reached climax and ruined another perfectly good sock. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the edge of his couch while he breathed deep and fended off the conviction that emotionally, he was still a teenaged kid whacking off to Victoria’s Secret models in his parents’ basement.
Chapter 9
“WELL, THAT SUCKED,” PlanetClaire griped. She and Loinerd were back at her hideaway, respawning again. Only half an hour into play, they’d been sacked by dwarves and then attacked and killed by a pack of…something.
“What the hell were those?” Cliff asked. “It’s like orcs and wargs have started mating.”
“Would’ve been nice of the wise man to warn us about them.”
They’d found the wise man weeks earlier. He’d explained to them that the egg they’d stolen from the castle tower was that of a tree sprite—possibly containing the embryo of a princess. One had gone missing from the royal nest of seven. The tree sprite king was offering a large reward for the return of the egg. Loinerd and Claire had been headed to his kingdom to collect the bounty when they’d been killed.
They checked their equipment and stats to see what had been affected during the deadly fight. Loinerd’s boots were toast. Both he and Claire were low on Blood. Before they could head out to get their equipment repaired, they’d have to wait for their Blood to regenerate, which could take hours.
“Guess I’ll use this time to catch up on the shows collecting dust in my DVR,” Claire said.
“I should probably catch up on work, but my brain’s fried.”
“And now, so is your virtual body. Poor Loincloth.”
He smiled. “So what’re you going to watch?”
“Hmm, my choices are zombie wasteland, soft-porn in medieval times, or a bunch of drunk girls convincing themselves they’re all in love with the same idiot.”
“Or you could watch a movie with me.” Cliff was surprised to hear the words come out of his mouth.
“What?”
“We’d planned on hanging out tonight, anyway.” He didn’t feel like spending another evening alone. “This is just a change of venues—we can stream a movie at the same time and keep our audio connected.” They’d started connecting through a third-party audio format instead of through the game in case either of them ever got sucked into another voice-muffling wall.
Claire hesitated before asking, “What movie?”
“We can choose it together.”
After another, shorter pause, she said, “Yeah, okay. I guess. Sure. Why not?”
“Please try to contain your enthusiasm.”
She let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Sorry. I’m being weird. Let’s watch a movie.”
They each logged into their streaming accounts and flipped through the choices, starting with the newest additions. None of those titles grabbed either of them, so they scrolled into the sci-fi collection.
“Oh, hey, Space Gauchos,” Claire said. “Did you ever watch the series?”
“I did.”
“Then you’ll appreciate this—most of the original cast will be at Expedition FanCon in San Diego in February. It’s like a Comic-Con but smaller and a lot less hyped.”
“Are you going?”
“I’m thinking about it. Warm and sunny sounds really good that time of year.”
Interesting, Cliff thought. She was giving
him clues about where she lived. He already knew she was in the central time zone. Now he knew she was from a colder climate—had to be either the Midwest or Canada. Her accent was definitely more Midwest.
“Want to watch the movie as pre-con prep?” he asked.
“Sure. Maybe that’ll push me over the edge to actually buy my ticket and make plans.”
“Why wouldn’t you go?”
“I’m supposed to be saving money. I want to buy a condo, which will mean taking on a big-ass mortgage. The more I can save, the smaller its ass will be.”
“Or you could look at it this way—you deserve one last splurge before saddling yourself with a big financial obligation.”
“I like the way you think, Loincloth. Maybe I’ll do it. So, do we count down from three before pressing play?”
“Sure.” He noted the sudden change in subject and remembered her request to let the virtual world be her escape from real life.
They were liberal with their commentary throughout the movie since they’d both seen it multiple times before and didn’t mind talking over the dialogue. By the time Space Gauchos: Reckoning finished, their virtual Blood had recouped and they jumped back into their medieval adventure.
While business at River South Partners tended to slow around the holidays, Cliff’s evening activity picked up with client dinners and cocktail parties. But he continued to work in gaming with PlanetClaire when he could, realizing that whenever two days in a row went by without talking to her, he missed her.
They’d exchanged gamer e-mail addresses to make it easier to schedule play time. On Christmas Eve, just as Cliff was heading out the door, his phone buzzed with an incoming e-mail. He saw that it was from Claire and opened it.
Merry Christmas, Loincloth. I made you this gift.
The last sentence was in light blue text and underlined, indicating it was hyperlinked. If he didn’t leave right at that moment to meet his parents and younger sister at his older sister’s house, he’d make them all too late to nab a pew for the packed Christmas Eve service. Even still, he paused in the hallway to click the link, feeling a twinge of guilt for not thinking to get Claire anything.
The link took him to a page at the DeviantArt website, where anyone with internet access could create an account and display images of their artwork. He landed on a cartoon sketch of a buff, shirtless man holding a briefcase. The case was engraved with: Loinerd, Esq. Thick, curly hairs dotted his bare pecs on either side of a bright fuchsia necktie. The only other clothing he wore was a pinstriped loincloth.
Cliff belted out a laugh, keeping his phone open to the picture so he could continue glancing at it on the way to his car. His grin remained for the entire forty-minute drive out to the suburbs. He liked that she’d thought of him enough outside of the game to have drawn the picture for him. And he liked getting a peek at this new layer of Claire.
After church, while the rest of the adults drank spiked eggnog and either tended to kids or stood around talking at the large gathering his sister hosted every year, Cliff pulled up the image again and clicked on PlanetClaire’s artist profile. As he’d expected, her personal details were minimal. Her description read: Who am I? Depends who you ask.
He clicked on her gallery and found more sketches. She seemed to specialize in cartoon illustrations with bold splashes of color, like the drawing she’d done for him, but she also had a few watercolor paintings of landscapes and architecture. He could see by the dates on comments that she’d been active on the site a couple of years ago but hadn’t posted much during the last several months. He smiled, flattered to have inspired her to poke her head out from her artistic hiatus.
Judging by his amateur eye, she didn’t have formal training, but she didn’t suck, either. Scrolling through more of her pictures, he noted the distinctive diamond of the Crain Communications Building on Michigan Avenue. Looking back at a sketch of a pair of lions, he realized they were the two statues flanking the Art Institute of Chicago. Was it possible she lived in his city?
When Mr. Walsh chided Cliff and his younger sister for burying their noses in their phones, Cliff exited the site. After he did, he wondered if he’d crossed a line by snooping around Claire’s profile. She was protective of her privacy, and he should respect that—though she was the one who’d led him to the site. Does she want me to dig for more?
January found Cliff still living in his studio apartment, but he made it a new year’s resolution to finally upgrade to a one-bedroom. He just needed to make time between work and his increased gaming hours. Loinerd and Claire had completed their quest to return the egg, and in the process had maxed out their characters to the highest level. Instead of moving on to another game or taking a break altogether, Cliff stayed with Claire in that universe, rampaging the various kingdoms of Castleabra at full power.
It was unusual for Cliff to stick around this long in one game and unprecedented for him to team up with the same player for so many quests. He suspected that was also true for Claire, but neither of them shined a light on it. They just kept playing together. Cliff was on the verge of asking if she wanted to join his party in a different game—but before he brought it up, the evening would move on to a whole different kind of hookup.
Loinerd and PlanetClaire flew through the moonlit forest until they could no longer hear the yapping of the wolf-like creatures that had given them chase. The creatures had sprung out of nowhere and landed a few choice blows before Loinerd and Claire had outsmarted them and sped out of their reach. They now found themselves in a dark, secluded corner of the woods.
“Over there,” Claire said, gesturing toward the arched form of a fallen tree. The thick, bent trunk had grown over with vines and formed a sort of shelter. They were able to stand underneath the high point where the tree had cracked. “Turn around,” she ordered.
Loinerd obeyed. Silvery moonlight illuminated his nearly bare back. His vest and shirt hung in tatters, revealing deep claw marks.
“We better hope those aren’t poisoned,” Claire said, reaching into her boot and pulling out a vial. She dabbed the contents onto her fingertips and ran her slender fingers along each of the cuts.
Loinerd flinched. “Let me look at your injuries.”
“Let me finish.”
After she’d applied ointment to the last scratch, Loinerd turned and scanned her figure. The black unitard hugged every lean curve, but large gashes caused the fabric to gape open, exposing raw, pink flesh.
“Give me the vial.” Cliff hoped she hadn’t heard the huskiness in his voice that betrayed his sudden arousal.
Claire handed him the medicine and lifted her hands away from her sides. Cliff held his breath while he reached a virtual hand forward to push up the fabric just beneath her left breast. He stretched the hole so he could assess the extent of the damage. Reaching his other hand forward, he applied the ointment with gentle, circular strokes. During the charged silence between them, Cliff’s mind traveled to all sorts of naughty places.
“Tell the truth,” Claire said, breaking into his thoughts. “Have I ever been your masturbation muse?”
“What?” Cliff was knocked off guard by her bluntness, but his avatar kept stroking.
“Lately, Loinerd’s been the go-to guy in my spank bank.”
Cliff choked on his laugh. When he heard Claire giggle, he moved his character’s ministrations to less temptingly placed wounds. Though who was he kidding—every inch of this woman’s animated body was tantalizing.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were so shy. Want me to change the subject?” she asked.
“No. I mean, I…uhm…”
PlanetClaire shot a hand out to hold one side of Loinerd’s face and brought her mouth to his. Cliff clicked his controls to return the kiss and take her in his character’s arms. As he watched the avatars make out, he felt slightly stunned. His in-game sex had only ever been with non-player characters. He’d never before connected with another live human in virtual coitus.
With
the two characters intimately engaged, the scene played out in autopilot. Cliff and Claire only had to make quick selections on how to proceed. At any time, either one of them could pull out from the embrace, but neither of them did. PlanetClaire moved deeper into the makeshift shelter. Tree limbs and heavy vines angled downward, providing privacy, though she had to kneel to fit under the natural ceiling. She shrugged out of her low-cut top, revealing a pert pair of breasts with dark brown nubs at their centers. Cliff longed to bite them.
Loinerd lowered to his knees and leaned in, his head swiveling as he played out Cliff’s desires. From the screen, PlanetClaire moaned. Through his headphones, Cliff heard her real-life breathing become heavier. He matched his breaths to her rhythm.
Now that they were engaged in full-on intimacy, the screen showed a montage of the characters’ nude forms from various angles, keeping the video adult-rated but not outright pornographic. Claire’s form was all pinks and peaches and browns. The only black remaining on her was a winged dragon tattoo stretching from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. Loinerd licked down the dragon’s tail trailing along her spine.
While Loinerd and PlanetClaire pumped and thrust and writhed against each other, Claire whispered to Cliff in breathy huffs, “Meet me in San Diego. At the convention. Just for one night.”
Cliff panted back, “What about keeping real life separate from gaming?” As much as the idea appealed to him, he didn’t want to make any stupid agreements in the passion of the moment.
“It won’t be real life…cosplay…with masks. We’ll be characters.”
“Oh, God, Claire,” he groaned, no longer trying to hide what he was doing to himself while he watched their characters copulate. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter 10
THE NEXT TIME LOINERD and PlanetClaire were in-game together, they joined forces with the rest of Claire’s team. After the quest was completed and the others went their own ways, Cliff and Claire turned off the game but stayed connected through third-party audio.