by Amber Carew
The months crept by. It was well into February and the cold winds of winter kept her inside most of the time, which she didn't mind, since it was more excuse to work on her fantasy world software. The groundhog hadn't seen his shadow on Groundhog Day, signifying a short winter, but Ottawa, a city well settled in the snowbelt, saw no sign of spring yet.
Arriving home after a grueling drive through a snowstorm, Jerette raced into her house to snatch up the ringing telephone.
"Ms. Jerette Salenger?" the voice asked.
"Yes." She tugged the scarf away from her neck and dropped her gloves on the table.
"This is Finery Flowers. We have some roses for you. Will you be home over the next hour to accept delivery?"
"Absolutely. I'm not going out in that again." She heard the wind moaning outside and shivered at the thought. "I'm surprised your delivery trucks are out."
"We don't make money if we don't get the stock out," the woman said candidly.
"Well, I'll be here."
She replaced the receiver and wondered who they could be from. With a quick glance at the calendar, she realized it was the fourteenth of February. Valentine's Day. That certainly explained why the florist would be keeping the delivery trucks moving. This must be the biggest day of the year for them.
She hung up her coat, then stopped at the window to pull back the vertical blinds and look out at the stormy night sky. Ice pellets danced against the window, the crackling sound making her shiver. The air fairly glowed outside with the illumination of the streetlights reflecting off the snow. She watched as a delivery van proceeded with caution down the deserted street, "Finery Flowers" scripted on the side.
Darlene probably sent the flowers, Jerette thought with sudden insight. Always a thoughtful sister, she knew Jerette had been depressed lately. It would be just like her to do something like this. Jerette watched as the delivery man pulled his hood tightly around his face and made a mad dash for her front door. She met him there and quickly signed the delivery acknowledgment as he waited, cheeks red, breath puffing out in clouds of white mist.
"Thanks, ma'am," he said as he happily accepted the five dollar tip she handed him.
She untied the green ribbon holding the long, narrow box closed and carefully drew out the dozen long-stemmed yellow roses. Definitely Darlene. Only her sister knew her preference in the color of roses. She cut the stems and arranged them in a tall, crystal vase, setting them in the center of the dining room table.
She plucked the little card out of the green tissue paper and pulled it from its envelope. Phantom scribbled in blue ink greeted her shocked perusal. Sucking in an unstable breath, fingers suddenly gone nerveless, she released the card. It fluttered to the floor like an errant butterfly.
This must be some kind of joke, she thought. A very sick joke. She clutched the back of one of the dining room chairs and eased herself into it. But, no, it wouldn't be hard for Phantom to hook into the worldwide floral delivery network. She had ordered flowers over the net herself, on occasion. For Phantom it would be easy.
She dropped her tearful face into her hands. Oh, good heavens. She had put Phantom out of her thoughts. Or she had tried. A night didn't pass that Phantom didn't haunt her dreams. She loved him. Passionately. Completely. But he didn't love her. And it was just as well. They could never be together, never love each other as a real man and woman.
Oh, she had no doubt he was a real man, with real feelings. He just didn't have a real body. She knew she was more forward thinking than most. An open mind was her greatest asset. She had always believed that. Just because Phantom was spawned from electronic impulses combined over a network of very human communications, why did that mean he was not a real life? A real intelligence? After all, what was different about life spawned in a human body? Weren't we all a collection of electrical impulses? The only difference between Phantom and the rest of us is that we have a biological housing and he does not. She wouldn't fault him for that. After all, she of all people, the recipient of his humanity, a kind of giving humanity unsurpassed by most people, could never question his humanness. He had given her a priceless gift, the understanding and strength to pursue her dreams.
Only last week Jerette had heard from a software publisher offering to buy her first VR landscape idea. Never had Jerette known such ecstasy… except in Phantom's arms. It had been almost a year since she had been with him and she could not deny her longing for him. She had learned to suppress that longing, learned to live with the ragged pain of loss. Going into the VR was unthinkable. He might just be there to greet her.
A ragged sigh escaped her lips and her own guttural sound of pain jarred her back to the present. She batted at the errant tears that rolled down her cheeks. No, she would not go back. Not because she couldn't accept being with Phantom, but because Phantom had done what he'd done for her out of compassion. Not passion. Not love. Just a selfless consideration for someone he knew was hurting. She wondered how many other lonely souls he had touched with his kindness. And, damn, why did it still hurt so much? Not that she held him responsible. It wasn't his fault she'd fallen in love with him.
But why the flowers? That she couldn't understand. Had he learned of her first e-scape sale and wanted to congratulate her? Maybe the fact that they'd arrived on Valentine's Day had been merely a coincidence. She hated herself for the hope that had been sparking to life like a tiny flame inside her.
The doorbell rang, dragging her from her self-destructive speculations. She pushed herself up from the chair, and walked over to the door, wondering who else had braved the February winds of an Ottawa storm. Had the whole world gone insane?
She pulled the door open and suddenly felt an icy wind spiral around her body, but it was nothing compared to the icy fear that spiraled around her heart.
"Hello, sweet Jerette."
"Phantom?" The word dropped from her lips like an icicle, freezing her throat in its passage. She stared up at his face, the very same face she remembered from their last encounter in VR. The face she now always equated with Phantom.
"May I come in?" he asked, the compelling warmth of his smile thawing her frozen limbs.
"Of course, I… Come in." She stepped aside to let him pass then closed the door behind him, shutting the raging storm outside. She turned to face him, brow pleating in tight furrows.
"What are you…? I mean, how…?"
He laughed and reached for her, pulling her into his arms. "What am I doing here? How is it possible?"
"You can still read my mind?" She rested her head against his chest, not caring that he might not be real, that she might somehow be in the VR, or worse, she might be imagining the whole thing.
"No, I can't read your mind. Not here in real space." He grasped her chin and pulled her lips to meet his in a short, sweet kiss. "It's not particularly hard to figure out what you would be wondering in this situation. And anyway, I think I've gotten to know you pretty well."
"Oh, dear heavens, Phantom." She clutched at the fabric of his soft, flannel shirt as though she were afraid he'd disappear. Which is exactly what she feared. "Are you real?"
His lips claimed hers again. His arms pulled her against a strong male chest. "Do I feel real?" he asked once he raised his lips from hers.
"Yes," she whispered, "but then so does VR."
"I'm very real, Jerette. I promise you that."
She stared up at him, his twilight blue eyes watching her intently. His dark hair, caught in a ponytail, hung over one shoulder and she longed to trail her fingers through it. Her gaze lingered on every feature of his face. The face of her lover. Her beloved.
His smile broadened. "Your face is taking on a misty quality I find absolutely enchanting." His lips nuzzled the soft skin just below her jaw line. "May I take that to mean you find my form pleasing?"
"Pleasing? You're absolutely incredible." Her breathing spiraled out of control, carrying her away to a place she wanted to go. But not yet. She brought her hands to his chest and pushed
lightly. He offered no resistance. When she looked up into his brilliant blue eyes, she saw a depth of pain that tore at her heart. Her hand rose up to stroke his cheek. "Oh, Phantom. I'm not rejecting you. I couldn't, I… Please, you must answer my questions. How? And why?"
He pressed her palm to his lips, then enfolded her hand within his own.
"I had to find a way to be with you. When you left, it… it tore me apart. I didn't want to go on without you. I understood why being in VR together wasn't enough. I wanted you to have more than that. To have a relationship with a real man."
"You are a real man," she protested.
"But I couldn't be with you in the real world. In your world. And you had hidden from that reality far too long."
"Yet you pushed me to design fantasy worlds."
"Yes, you need to follow your creativity. And that means living in worlds of your own imagining for extended periods of time. But it's important that you know where that fiction ends." The look of glazed distance disappeared from his eyes as he zeroed in on her face. "But now we have a chance."
"We do?" Her heart fluttered in response to his words.
"Yes. I found a way to make a body. I hooked into a research lab in California where they're doing work with nanotechnology."
She tipped her head. She'd read about the concept. Tiny molecular sized computers could be combined into an integrated whole to perform all kinds of wonderful tasks. "But to build something as complex as a human body?" The concept staggered her imagination.
"Why not? I'm a pretty clever guy."
An understatement if ever she'd heard one. He had access to a world of information. Quite literally.
"I contacted the chief scientist on the project and volunteered a few ideas."
"You worked on the project?"
"I'm one of the chief engineers now, though until recently I did all my work from 'home'. The only reason I'm telling you this now is to let you know I have a job, and am a productive member of society, so that I can…"
"Can what, Phantom?" Her heart had been throbbing with hope, but now her fingers went icy within the confines of his hand.
He shook his head. "Courage seems to fail me. I've always been in control with you, or thought I have, but now…" He pulled her into his embrace with a raw passion that drove away the fear.
"Tell me," she insisted.
"I…"
He released her and patted at his pockets as though looking for something. His hand dipped into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small, blue velvet box. He snapped open the lid and held it out to her. Inside, nestled in the soft, velvet interior, lay a tiny gold abacus charm on a delicate chain. His large, masculine fingers lifted the chain from its bed and fastened it around her neck with a deftness she found heart stopping. His hands came to rest on her shoulders and held her with such cherishing gentleness that she could hardly catch her breath.
"Jerette, I love you." He sucked in a breath and continued in a rush of words. "I wanted to tell you before, when we were together, but I knew I was being selfish. We couldn't be together in the real world and I couldn't ask you to accept what little I could offer you in VR."
"Little?" Her voice trembled and her head shook in denial.
His finger rested on her lips to silence her protest. "I didn't feel I had the right then to ask anything of you. I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you… but I did. Now I can offer you reality. Jerette…" His gaze searched the depths of hers. "Sweet Jerette. Will you marry me?"
His breath held as tears welled to the surface of her eyes and spilled out.
He turned away from her, words coming in broken breaths. "Damn. I was so stupid to think… I'm sorry, Jerette… to put you through this… I should have—"
"Shut up," she snapped, as she pulled him back to her, turning him around, surprised at how easy it was to move his great bulk. "You villainous devil. You stole something from me a long time ago and I demand retribution." She kept her voice taut.
His gaze lifted to hers, uncertainty flickering through his eyes. "Your control?" She shook her head. "Your money?" She shook her head. "Your… virginity?" Still she shook her head.
"My heart. And for that debt I demand payment. In the form of marriage."
The lines of agony in his face smoothed away then his expression flowed into radiant joy. He bowed low at the waist. "I'm a man of honor and I always pay my debts."
Suddenly, she found herself enfolded in his embrace and reveled in the warmth of his very male, very human body. In fact, she could feel it responding to her now in a very masculine way. She arched her hips in the cradle of his thighs and suggested, "Why don't we go and test some of the finer features of this new body of yours?"
Surprisingly, he hesitated. "Jerette, I must warn you. This is not the VR. When I… With your first time there, I was able to ensure you suffered no pain. Here, I have no control—"
Her lips punctuated his statement with a kiss. She started tugging his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans.
"Phantom, I know you could never hurt me. The small pain of initiation is not something I fear. What I fear is being without you. I love you too much for that. And as for control," her words muffled as she nuzzled the base of his neck, "you taught me an important lesson about losing control." She ripped open the snaps of his shirt and closed her lips around his nipple. "Let me teach you the same thing."
Afterword
I hope you enjoyed Virtual Love.
If you did, please post a review at your favorite online store because that’s the best way to help me write more stories like this.
If not, please email me at [email protected] because I love to hear from my wonderful readers.
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Excerpts
If you enjoyed this story, Opal’s recommends the Amber Carew contemporary fantasy romances I Dream of Genie and Spellbound.
If you’d prefer to stick with futuristic, Opal Carew has her Abducted series, a connected set of five futuristic erotic romance novellas, the first of which is Forbidden Mate.
For something just a little hotter, you might like one of Opal Carew's collection of Sheikh erotic romances, Owned by the Sheikh, including three steamy captivity-themed romances each of which features a bold, dominating sheikh and the strong-willed woman who is at his mercy.
If you’d like something a lot hotter, you might want to try Opal’s Office Slave series of erotic short stories.
Excerpts of each of these stories are included below.
Spellbound
by Amber Carew
When Lucinda receives The Call to mentor a brand new wizard, she is overjoyed. It should be impossible for her to be called, but who is she to question Destiny? Since The Call always occurs at birth, she is shocked when she goes to see the child and finds a full-grown—and quite naked—man. With amnesia.
Lucinda may be the stronger wizard, but somehow this man takes control of every situation. How does he manage to be so utterly domineering, so overwhelmingly masculine, and yet so incredibly irresistible?
As if this isn't enough to shatter her usual self-assurance, her long-time friend and mentor, Randalph, appears and warns her that he knows this man, whose name is Nyte, and he is extremely dangerous.
Excerpt
April in Paris. Charming. Why did she always wind up in these wonderful places when she didn't have time to enjoy them?
A couple of teenagers skated past her on roller blades and giggled. Lucinda shifted her focus to her own reflection and flushed. Here she stood in the middle of Paris wearing only a mauve camisole, matching boyleg briefs, and bare feet. She groaned. Well, she'd never pretended to be good at these middle of the night adventures. She had trouble being organized at the best of times let alone with less than a good night's sleep.
Pretending great interest in the view behind the glass, she checked her peripheral vision on each side, wondering how best to avoid notice.
Good heavens. She would have to choose the mid-morning rush hour to appear in a world-class city in a state of undress. Of course, most nights she slept in an oversized grey sweatshirt, but yesterday, of all days, she'd given in to temptation and bought the feminine camisole set in the window of a lingerie store near her office—and she'd had to wear it to bed.
She padded down the alley, searching for a hidden corner where she could materialize some clothes, but a groan from up ahead interrupted her mission. She crinkled her forehead. Had it been an actual sound? Good heavens, could it have been the baby? Had he been left alone somewhere in this alley?
But a baby didn't groan.
She closed her eyes and listened. Fragmented questions tumbled through her mind. Where am I? Who am I? The strong sense of disorientation threw off her balance, sending her careening into a brick wall. Her shoulder pressed against it and she flattened one hand against the side of her head, trying to control the dizziness. The person was disoriented. And uncomfortable.
But he wasn't in danger.
She tried to catch her breath as a stunning certainty ricocheted through her. These thoughts were too coherent for an infant. And yet they definitely came from her intended student. She slumped back against the wall, barely holding herself upright as disturbing questions pelted her consciousness like hailstones.
If this wizard she'd been called upon to teach was not a baby, why hadn't she received The Call over a decade ago? The lad seemed to be suffering from some kind of accident. Could a blow to the head have triggered wizardly potential in him?