by Megan Hart
"Philip, wait."
He looked up, face cast into a mask of shadow by the filtered light of the streetlamp at the front of the house. When she didn't speak, he eased off, still holding her against the door so she didn't fall, but no longer pushing his hand against her. He licked his lips and blinked as though trying to get some measure of control.
"Arden, I thought you wanted this."
"I thought I did, too."
Philip smiled and stepped back. He ran his hands through his hair, rumpling it. The tousling made him look disheveled and delicious, a combination Arden found very appealing, but she didn't lean over to kiss him again.
"It's...a little scary," she admitted at last.
Philip nodded and put his hands in his pockets. The front of his pants bulged with an erection only moments ago Arden would have been delighted to see. Now it made her feel awkward and uncomfortable. She averted her eyes.
"I understand," Philip said. "Lida told me about your husband and everything. Believe me, I wouldn't have--"
"I know--"
"I'm not a total slime--"
They both stopped and Arden chuckled, embarrassed. She put a hand to her burning cheek. "I'm sorry, Philip. This was probably a mistake."
"Ah, c'mon. Don't say that."
She couldn't deny he was charming. "I did have a great time. Really. Thank you."
"I had a good time too. Can I call you?"
His question took her aback. "You want to call me?"
Philip grinned, teeth flashing white in the dark garage. "Of course I do."
"I guess that would be all right." She didn't sound enthused. "I mean, that would be great. Very nice. Yes. I'd like you to call me."
"Okay, then. Well, have a good night."
"Thanks again," she called to his back, but Philip didn't turn, just gave a little half-wave without turning.
She let herself into the dark house, her body still flooded with the sensations of Philip's kisses and caresses. Regret panged, but she forced it away. It wouldn't have been fair to him to just...use him, while fantasizing about Shane. The thought made her laugh. Did guys even care about that?
It wouldn't have been fair to herself, she amended. Sleeping with--fucking--Philip would probably have been great. Just what she needed. Release, a fresh start, whatever Lida wanted to call it. But how could she have sex with Philip when Shane Donner's face was all she could see? His mouth the only one she could taste?
Arden shook herself to get rid of the languorous lethargy that had overtaken her. If she was going to have sex with someone, it had to be with someone she really wanted to be with, or else the experience would be no better than if she went out and hired a male prostitute. Having sex with the knowledge it wasn't going to lead to a relationship was one thing. Fucking a willing partner who was trying to help her out while she wished he was someone else was something else altogether.
Hand on the newel post, she let her eyes turn toward the office, where the soft glow of the computer monitor lit the kitchen. As though hypnotized, her feet carried her in that direction.
It's late. You're tired, she admonished herself, but continued walking. There's nothing there that can't wait until tomorrow...but she kept going.
She clicked the mouse to get rid of the screen saver and opened up her mail program. Three new messages. She refused to let hope make her heart pound faster, but she clicked on her inbox.
The first two were advertisements.
The third was from Shane Donner.
The smile on her face didn't seem out of place as she slid into her office chair. She'd been waiting for him to reply. She clicked on the message. No subject. No salutation, no signature. Four words that slammed lust into her so hard her breath left her in an audible whoosh and her fingers clenched on the mouse so hard it fell, dangling by its cord, off the mousepad.
You looked good tonight.
It had been him, there in the corner, that ghost, that phantom from her past. She reached for the mouse and settled it back on top of Keanu's sunglass-covered eyes. Before she could respond to the message, the icon at the bottom of her screen, the tiny yellow man that signified her instant messenger service, began to jump. A small red one appeared on top of the icon. Someone was instant messaging her.
She glanced at the clock as she clicked the icon to bring the message screen to her desktop. It had to be Lida, asking how the date went. She'd be disappointed to learn Arden didn't get laid. Arden smiled ruefully. She'd have other news to share with Lida, namely, Shane's email.
The message wasn't from Lida. It was from Shane.
That was you at the Cadillac Grille, wasn't it?
That was me. She paused before typing again. I thought that was you, but I wasn't sure.
You haven't changed.
Neither have you.
She waited for him to write something else. Nothing. Her heartbeat had just begun to slow and her hands stop shaking when the next words appeared in the small message window.
You looked good. Your husband is a lucky man.
Her husband? Arden shook her head, brow furrowed, then realized. Shane thought Philip was her husband. And why wouldn't he? He'd never met Jason. Had no idea Jason had died. It was a likely assumption. And how like Shane to send her a provocative email and follow it up with a late night IM, even though he thought he'd just seen her with her husband. Typically arrogant and bold...but damn, so very, very sexy.
That wasn't my husband.
The blinking cursor mocked her. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she prepared to tell him she'd been on a date, but he replied before she had the chance.
I thought you didn't cheat.
Anger made her scowl and she sat back, staring at the screen. He was trying to be witty, she could guess that, but also had no trouble imagining the undercurrent of truth to his words. She thought of their last exchange, a heated volley of words that had left her shaking with the same sort of anger she felt now.
I wasn't sneaking around, she typed back so fiercely she misspelled sneaking twice before she got it right. I was on a date.
Then a moment later: Divorced?
"Wouldn't you love to hear that?" She muttered. Tears stung her eyes and the computer screen blurred for a moment.
My husband died.
There. In black-and-white, the words looked harsher than if she'd said them quietly, or shouted them. Written that way, there could be no other way to say it. Died. Dead. She was a widow.
She imagined him squirming in his chair, embarrassed at his faux pas, but knew that was a false picture. He wouldn't care if he'd put his foot in his mouth. Not Shane Donner, cool as ice, smooth as silk.
I'm sorry. I didn't know.
Sorry? Arden rubbed her mouth, which wanted to frown, and scrubbed her eyes, which still wanted to cry. That was unexpected. Her anger faded. He couldn't have known about Jason.
Lymphoma. 18 months ago.
I'm sorry.
Me too.
He didn't reply for so long she thought he'd signed off. Just before she pushed her chair away and started up to bed, the next message came up.
You were on a date?
Yes.
Your boyfriend?
No. Just a date. Our first one.
You looked pretty cozy.
She blushed, feeling the heat painting her cheeks. She refused to let him make her feel that way. She typed without censoring herself.
My friend Lida set us up. She thought it would be good for me to get laid.
!
That single exclamation point said more than a paragraph could have. Arden laughed, imagining his face. She'd shocked him. A first.
You should have called me.
I don't have your number.
She wasn't angry anymore. She was itchy again, anticipating how he'd respond. What he'd say. How he'd flirt.
You could have emailed me.
Oh, right. What should I have said? Hi, Shane, how are you? Want to come over and fuck?
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She sat back and watched the screen, aware her breath was coming faster and her throat was dry with anticipation. She'd taken a step she wasn't sure she was ready to, but somehow typing words on a screen seemed less scary than saying them in person. Than in actually having a man in front of her, ready to get her naked, ready to have sex.
I'd have been there in ten minutes.
She laughed, horny and amused at the same time. It was a familiar feeling, but one she hadn't felt in a long time. She remembered all at once that was how she'd often felt with him. Horny and amused, or horny and angry. But always horny.
Sure you would have. You don't even know where I live.
If you asked me to come there and fuck you, I'd find it. Ten minutes. All you have to do is ask.
But she couldn't do that, could she? Nervousness assailed her, along with a memory so vivid it made her clench her thighs together in a sudden spasm. She thought of the time she'd gone to his apartment, meaning only to drop off a couple of videos she'd borrowed. The second she walked in the door, he'd pushed her up against the wall, been inside her in minutes, made her come hard, twice, before even saying hello.
I can't do that.
Because we didn't go on a date?
Because w-
She stopped. Because why? What excuse could she give? She'd been ready to go to bed with Philip, who she barely knew, just to get laid and get it out of her system. Yet she balked at the thought of having Shane come over, the man she knew could send her to the stars. Someone she knew.
Because there's too much between us, she typed, but didn't hit "send." There was too much history. Too much angst.
Arden?
I'm here.
Do you want me to come over?
No.
You're lying.
She was lying, but picturing the smug grin on his face as he sat in front of his computer didn't make her feel better. For one instant she hovered her pointer over the exit button, ready to turn off the instant messenger before she got herself into more trouble.
You still there?
Her fingers moved on their own, typing before she could stop herself. Yes. I'm here.
You sure you don't want me to come over?
Yes. But she wasn't sure, was she?
Do you want to come?
Not come over. Come. She shivered at his play on words, so blatant and impossible to ignore when they blinked at her in stark black and white.
Do you still make that sound?
She gasped. Her clit spasmed, her nipples became hard as stones. Her hand went to her heart to hold it inside her chest, so convinced was she it was going to fly right out. That sound. She knew the one he meant, of course, was as familiar with it as she was with the sound of her laughter.
He knew just how to work her. He didn't give her time to respond, just continued.
I'd like to hear it again.
You can't hear through the computer, she typed, knowing that was a lame retort, but unable to come up with anything better.
I can imagine it.
This is silly.
You've never had cybersex?
She laughed again, hovering now on the edge of hysterical laughter. He was good at that. Keeping her on the edge.
No.
Want to?
With you?
No, with George Bush.
I don't know how.
Easy. Just touch yourself and pretend it's me.
Well, she'd done that often enough, even recently. Her blush got hotter, but her fingers flew over the keys. Are you pretending I'm touching you?
Yes.
That simple declaration made the breath leave her again, as she imagined him stroking himself.
He continued before she could reply.
I have my cock in my hand, and I'm pretending it's in your mouth.
She should be offended, taken aback, but the only response she could muster was a low, soft moan.
I'm thinking about you on your knees in front of me.
Oh, mercy. She was thinking about that, too.
And then what?
Arden crossed her legs and scooted in the chair until her clit rubbed up against her panties. She'd learned long ago that if she rocked her hips in just the right way, she could come without having to touch herself. She needed both hands free to type, and this way she could more easily imagine Shane's hands on her body, rather than her own.
Then I push you back. We're on a bed. I get down between your kne-
A pause, and she smiled while she pushed her hips back and forth, watching the screen. He must be having the same problem, trying to type with one hand.
And I lick you, he finished.
Bold. Blunt. Just like Shane. Arden swallowed, hard. That feels good. And then you slide up, over my body, and you put yourself inside me.
She should feel ridiculous, or shameful, typing such things to a man who was nearly a stranger. Instead, she felt empowered. In control. The computer gave her the anonymity she needed, the freedom to let go.
A random pattern of letters appeared on her screen, followed by, Sorry. I can't type and jerk off at the same time.
She laughed, throwing back her head.
Maybe we should stop.
I can't stop now, woman. I'll explode.
Then why don't you type and I'll read? She was certain that one-sided treat would be denied her.
I want to make you come.
And what about you?
A smiley icon appeared. I'll take care of myself after.
How chivalrous.
Where were we? Oh, yeah. I was fucking you.
Yes, She sat back and watched his seduction fill the screen, while she touched herself and pretended it was him.
I move in and out of you for a minute or two, but I'm too close to coming and I want to hold off. So I ease out of you and go back down. I kiss your stomach. Your thighs. And then, slowly, because I know that's what you like, I lick your clit. I can hear you moan. You taste like sex and I love it. I put a finger inside you, then another one, and you jump and your moans get louder.
They were getting louder. Who knew he'd be so descriptive? He'd never talked this much to her. Maybe the years had changed him, or the barrier of the computer gave him courage he'd lacked before.
I'm going to lick you until you come, Arden.
Almost there, she managed to type as her body shuddered. She wanted to close her eyes, but couldn't miss what he would write next.
Are you coming?
She pressed the palm of her hand against her center and held it there while her clit beat. She moved. Stars flashed in front of her eyes. She was going over.
Yes.
I want you to close your eyes and imagine me inside you when you do. Do it now. Come, while you pretend I'm fucking you.
She should not find the command sexy, but oh, heaven help her, she did. She was too far gone to hold back now, no thoughts of embarrassment or ridicule could stop her. This was better than being alone with her vibrator or her shower head. Though it was still her own hand, it was almost like he was there.
She closed her eyes and rocked against her hand, thinking of his cock, the length and girth she could still remember after all these years. She thought of his scent, and yes, oh, God, yes, the taste of him. She thought of the sound he made at climax, a half-moan, half-garbled exclamation that had never failed to arouse her.
She came, hand clutching the top of her desk so hard her fingers went numb. For one dizzy instant her head spun, but after a few deep breaths, she got her equilibrium back. She opened her eyes to find Shane's message waiting for her.
Was it as good for you as it was for me?
She couldn't type any other answer but Yes.
Good.
Arden squinted at the clock, noting the late hour, but was feeling too replete to get out of her chair. Besides, what was the protocol here? Share a cyber smoke? Embarrassment tried to edge into her emotions, but she fought it off. People did worse things
all the time, and really, was it worse to be alone in her bed with her butterfly, or coming in front of the computer screen? At least she had a partner. She hadn't been laid like Lida wanted, but at least she had a partner.
Can I call you?
She knew it was impossible to judge tone of voice or body language through written text, which was why there was so much miscommunication on the internet when people tried to joke. She didn't get the sense he was joking. Instead, an image of Shane hunched over his keyboard, eyes burning a hole in the screen while he waited for her reply, leaped into her mind.
She wanted to say yes. She ought to say no. Arden put her hands to the keyboard, but didn't know what to type. If she said yes, and he didn't call, she'd feel like the worst sort of ass. If she said no after what they'd just done...
She took the easier way out.
I don't think so.
With a beep, the computer told her he'd signed off. Just like that, gone. Not another word, like because he didn't get what he wanted, he stomped off in a huff.
"Typical!" Arden closed down the instant messenger program so there'd be no more surprises waiting for her. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at her desktop wallpaper. "Can you believe that jerk?"
Keanu said nothing, just gave her a knowing look from under his inscrutable black sunglasses.
"Should I have said yes?"
Arden sighed and got up from her chair. Her entire body felt languid and luxurious...like she'd just had fantastic sex. Well, hadn't she?
* * * *
"How'd it go?"
Arden rolled over to look at the clock, phone clutched in one hand, while she swiped at her eyes with the other. "Gah."
"That good?"
"Lida, it's too early to talk."
"Up late, huh?"
She couldn't bear to break Lida's excited bubble, but she'd never lied to her friend and she wasn't about to start now. "I didn't do it with him, Lida."
Silence. "No?"
