Uncover Me. AM Hartnett
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him was a view of one of the harbour bridges.
She was still examining the photo when a second message came through.
‘Not nearly on a par with your cheesecake, but you get the picture. I almost missed the location when I first looked at your pictures. Was in the middle of jerking off when I noticed the clock. Turn your chat on.’
She stared at the screen. She didn’t even know that the website that hosted her blog had an option to chat. She clicked on every menu she could find without success, reaffirming her overall hatred for other forms of social media.
When she found the CHAT ON option hidden in a bar at the bottom of the screen, she hesitated. She knew she should just call the whole thing off, but he had piqued her curiosity. She wanted the bigger picture before she dismissed him. Having no idea how to actually initiate a conversation with him, and not entirely sure she wanted to, Carrie returned to her mailbox.
In the middle of composing her reply, a window popped up.
ACCEPT CHAT FROM BSANDMAN?
‘Eager, aren’t we?’ she muttered and accepted the request, then waited for his first words.
‘Your turn,’
‘Sorry.’
‘Your turn to prove this is really the girl in the pictures.’
Carrie snorted and took another sip of her wine before responding. ‘I don’t have to prove anything. You just want a private show.’
‘It was worth a try. Are you married?’
‘I really don’t think that’s any of your business.’
‘Wow. I just want to know you better. You know where I live. Exactly where I live. You could probably stand at the bottom of my building and see me sitting here at the computer.’
It was true, and a bit of a relief. If indeed he was true, he lived in the tallest condo in the North End, not even a five-minute drive from her apartment. She’d been in it a few times when friends rented there. They were old, but nice.
‘Are you married?’ he persisted.
‘No. Currently single.’
‘Any children?’
‘When did this become online dating? You called me out on my blog.’
‘I wouldn’t say I called you out. More like a friendly wave hello.’
‘With your dick.’
‘Did you like it? Not specifically my dick, but the video.’
‘Fantastic. Kudos on not including a cumshot.’
‘Testy testy testy. Sent you another picture. Go look at it.’
Carrie expected full frontal, but instead she found herself looking at a completely casual shot of him sitting fully dressed in front of his computer. Dark hair. Thick eyebrows and the beginnings of a beard. He had a straight mouth that was twisted into a playful smile. He looked comfortable in a black hoodie.
‘Nice,’ she typed
‘Your turn.’
‘Not a chance.’
‘Come on. I’m dying to see the face that goes with that amazing body.’
Carrie couldn’t help the little spark of pleasure at his words, but still typed NO.
‘All right. I’ll see it soon enough.’
‘You think so.’
‘I’ll wear you down. Speaking of your amazing body, when are you going to post more shots of you in fishnets?’
‘When I’m in the mood.’
‘You come harder when you wear them, don’t you?’
She paused, fingers over the keyboard. Were all her subscribers reading her so easily?
‘Gotcha,’ he typed. ‘It’s easy to tell. Your nipples get really hard and you get goose bumps. And you’re insanely wet.’
‘It’s a part of the fantasy. What do you want?’
‘To play with you. Literally.’
She glanced at the benign boy-next-door photo maximised behind the chat window. She mentally tried to pair that classically handsome face with the man in the video who’d played with his lover, and found herself out of breath. The slow heat between her legs burned as her imagination weaved a tapestry. She could see herself in those fishnets he loved, legs wrapped around his waist, lips painted red and parted with a gasp as he gave her one sinful inch at a time.
The chat window flashed as he sent another message. ‘You don’t seem like the type to scare off easily. Maybe I was wrong.’
‘Look, if you’re looking for a quick fuck, look elsewhere. Thanks for looking at my pictures and all that, but I’m not interested.’
‘Not looking for a quick fuck, but now that I’ve talked to you, you seem like a sweet girl in fuck-me heels. I’m more interested than ever. Just meet me once and we’ll see where things go from there. No expectation. No nothing. Just … coffee.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Why not?’
She got up and headed back to the kitchen. The room swayed a little, but that didn’t stop her pouring out the last of the wine.
Why not? She could think of a million reasons, all of which involved ending up as a Dateline Mystery. She didn’t know him. He was just one of her pet perverts, nameless and faceless. He could be anyone. He could be dangerous.
And besides, she liked what she had going on. She could come and go as she pleased, getting off when she wanted and how she wanted it. She didn’t need a man in her life right now, even for a fling. It had taken her a long time to feel comfortable alone, and she wasn’t ready to give it up even for a few hours of sweating between the sheets.
His message was waiting for her when she stumbled back to the desk. ‘You pick the time and place. Broad daylight. One cup of coffee. A quick chat. You pull the plug whenever you want.’
Her curiosity growing, Carrie looked at the photo and then, cringing at her own weakness as she did, went back to the video. This time, she paid particular attention to the sound of his voice: the primal grunts that escalated as he pumped the woman harder, and within the woman’s shrieks the muttered words ‘That’s it, baby. Come over my cock.’
I don’t need this, she thought, going back to the chat window. She said it over and over in her head to convince herself.
I like being alone.
I’m not into casual sex.
I’m still healing.
The chat window flashed. ‘Still with me, Maggie?’
This is nuts.
Temptation won out. She could be that woman for real, for just an hour in a crowded coffee shop. Even if it was a disaster, she could be Maggie even for a little bit. She didn’t have to fuck him. She didn’t have to do anything but let him adore her in person.
She pulled the keyboard closer and sucked in a deep breath.
‘One cup of coffee. One hour. Get a pen, I’ll tell you when and where.’
Sitting at a corner table with