She Writes Back

by Kyle Fargo

  When I made my way downstairs I found a covered plate with scrambled eggs and bacon on the counter, still warm, with a note.

  "Thanks for last night. I figured this was the least I could do."

  It was my wife's handwriting, but it wasn't like her at all. Mystified, I considered briefly if she might be trying to poison me for the insurance money... then I thought: what insurance money? and poured myself an orange juice and sat down to eat.

  As I crunched through my bacon, I wondered where she'd gone. It really wasn't like her to get up before eight or nine. Seven must've been an insurmountable obstacle, I'd have guessed.

  DING.

  Fuck that bitch. My phone's waking up.

  "Oh daddy, thinking of you made me cum pretty hard last night."

  Kayla was back out on her balcony, in her fuzzy robe, sunlight in her face, eyes closed. My dick was hard just from looking at her again. My eggs and bacon forgotten.

  I breathed in and out. Tried to keep cool.

  "Ditto." I replied with a winky face.

  DING.

  "Ok, mister. Time for some real talk." she messaged.

  "How do I know you're not sending me fake pictures?" She was staring into the camera with an exagerated frown.

  I laughed. I couldn't help it. She was so funny.

  I sent her a picture of me with a piece of bacon as a mustache.

  "I will literally do anything you ask me to do so you know I'm real." I sent her.

  DING.

  "Throw that bacon away."

  I dumped it in the garbage and took a picture of it.

  DING.

  "Jesus! I believe you! DON'T THROW ANY MORE BACON IN THE GARBAGE!" She was holding her hands to her face in a horrified expression.

  I laughed again. Sue me, she's amazing.

  "Hey, I said I would do anything, didn't I?" I texted.

  I gulped, emboldened.

  "Now drop that robe before I have to scold you again."

  My hands were shaking even as I hit send. I couldn't belive I'd had the balls to say that.

  DING.

  "Oh. Fuck you, daddy. Taking advantage of me so early in the morning."

  She'd dropped the robe. The picture was of her legs, tantalizingly close to her pussy, but not quite giving me a view, with the robe tangled in a heap at her feet.

  DING.

  "Someone woke up frisky, I see." A closeup of her face, eyebrow arched in a knowing expression.

  DING.

  "I bet you wish you could touch me, don't you, daddy?" Her stomach, pierced bellybutton jewel shining in the morning light. The bare whisper of her pubic hair creeping at the bottom edge of the photo.

  I fell out of my chair. Literally. It hurt a lot, because I fell on my ass and bumped my head against the fridge, but I couldn't give two shits about that.

  "Touch you? I don't think I'm worthy."

  I sent her a picture of myself lying on the floor.

  "I fainted at the thought."

  DING.

  "LOL, daddy. Too much for you this early?" Her face again. Her beautiful, radiant face, smiling that beautiful smile.

  I got up, a little dazed and resumed eating. This was way more intense for me than I thought. My heart was about to leap form my chest. My hand was shaking.

  I really was going to have to fucking stop eating this bacon. I'm not a young man anymore, and for some blessed reason the universe had deemed fit to gift me with these amazing interactions with Kayla. I didn't know how long they would last, or what would come of it. It could really be just some huge galactic joke, but I didn't care.

  "What're you up to today?" I texted her.

  DING.

  "Ugh, I woke up this morning to a message from my manager that I'd been booked in China again. They're flying me out tonight."

  China. It was about the third or fourth time that some rich as all hell government official or head of industry had chartered her off for activities unknown. She'd been pretty open about it in her public messages, sending a lot of amazing photos of luxurious jets and hotels, the great wall, the markets and local historical places, very weird food that she tried. She never said who flew her out, of course, or showed anything of what she did.

  Who knew? If I was a billionaire who could fly famous pornstars to meet me, I'd probably expect to get my dick sucked at least. With a bunch of non disclosure agreements, probably.

  I felt deflated and I felt stupid for feeling deflated. What did I expect? A girl's gotta take care of herself I knew, and even at 22 she was no longer the "IT" girl anymore. I hated her manager and understood at the same time. This is how she maintains her lifestyle and her independence after leaving mainstream porn.

  DING.

  "Don't worry daddy, I won't do anything you wouldn't want me to." She was winking at the camera.

  "I'm literally going to be arm candy for a general during a couple of events, but no naked time."

  Whoa. Details.

  "He's actually gay, but flies me out as a show of power and manliness. After the events we go to his room, making sure everyone sees, and usually stay up all night talking or watching movies. Sometimes I spend a few minutes crying out like I'm getting fucked, and we laugh about it."

  Was it true?

  Why would she even be bothering to tell me all of that if it wasn't?

  DING.

  "Holy shit, daddy. I'm serious, now. Those are some actual fucking secrets I need you to keep, ok?" She was wide-eyed and covering her mouth.

  "I don't know what it is about you, but you make me say things I normally don't." She was squinting at me.

  "Are you a wizard, or something?"

  I didn't know how to answer. The part of my brain that kept railing against my impulsiveness and preaching reason was growing fainter by the second.

  This felt real.

  "My wand's not that magical, to be honest." Winky face.

  DING.

  "LOL. Oh god, daddy, I hope you really are as nice as you seem. You're starting to grow on me."

  The picture of her was one of the cutest I'd seen, ever. She was wearing a tshirt that was a bit too large for her with a baby seal on it that said "don't be SEAL-y". It was tied up in a knot to one side, showing a bit of her flat, fit stomach. She was wearing yoga pants that fit her like a glove. Her hand was on her hip and her hair was up in a ponytail. Her face was clean scrubbed, no makeup. She had a small smile to one side, an adorable dimple in her cheek.

  This girl was driving me insane.

  "I have to start packing now, and I'll only have a signal when I have wifi over there. We're still on for the 18th, right?"

  She was asking me? I'd chew my leg off to make that date.

  "You'd have to be Batty to stop me."

  I sent her a pic of me holding a spoon like a sword, above my head.

  "And even then, all his efforts would just get lost..."

  DING.

  "...like tears in the rain." Kayla finished. Her pic was in a similar pose, but with a fork that had a strawberry pierced on it.

  "Keep writing me, please. Even though I'll be doing touristy stuff when not working, it does get lonely. XOXOXO. I'll text you when my plane leaves."

  Text me when her plane leaves? Keep writing her? For fucks sake, she sounded like we were dating. Which gave me a boner, of course, but this was the time that my rational mind chose to rear its ugly head again.

  You're never going to hear from her again, douchebag. And it'll be ten thousand to meet her in AC, if she's even really there. You're fooling yourself.

  I looked at the picture where she said I was growing on her. I screenshotted it.

  Now I had a memories of the sexiest and most innocent sides that I'd seen of Kayla. I didn't know what would happen, but I knew that I was going to do my utmost to find out.

  Fuck you, rational mind.

  ------

  The following week was weird. Very weird.

  Kayla's public feed was full of what I'd seen before, m
ore touristy spots, more weird food. Pictures of her up to her neck in bubbles in a huge tub. More landscapes. A whole lotta chinese people.

  The time difference made it so that we never managed to text at the same time, but I gave it my best shot and we managed a few exchanges. She also cursed the internet they allowed her to use several times. Still, she sent me pictures every day, usually five or more that complemented every one that she posted publicly.

  She ranted about the accomodations and how they kept making her move, since apparently her employer was being investigated or something. She didn't quite know. She went everywhere with two bodyguards she nicknamed Bruce and Jackie, who never smiled for the photos she took with them.

  Of course, my rational mind kept trying to bring me down suring this whole time.

  You see those two guys? She's probably getting tag teamed by them every night.

  Fuck you, rational mind.

  I found myself repeating that often.

  My home life wasn't really any less weird.

  Turns out my wife had been seeing a therapist. For the past two years. Without me knowing.

  The morning after I'd fucked her and made her cum in god knows how long, she'd aparently had an "episode" and had gone to see her therapist. Two days later, she'd roped me into coming with her to a session, because she had things to say and wanted to be in a "safe place".

  Sure, I thought. Whatever. I was too caught up trying to sync with Kayla to really worry about whatever drama our sex had generated for her.

  When I realized that I really didn't care, I was a little surprised. I mean, I knew that we'd been drifting apart for the past decade but if I really analized my feelings for her, well... there were basically none.

  I came to realize this while sitting in her therapist's office, seconds before the door to his office opened and out walked a handsome, fit young man who was probably ten years younger than me.

  OK.

  He motioned for us to step inside and I followed my wife, a little warily. He didn't offer to shake hands but introduced himself as her therapist.

  I nodded, but remained silent. I didn't know what annoyed me about the guy, but the familiar way he put his hands on my wife's shoulder should probably have been it. It wasn't. Once more, in the space of two minutes, I realized that I really didn't care.

  The guy was talking, but I wasn't registering much.

  "As you know, I've been seeing your wife for going on two years now, and in that time, we've come to identify several behaviours, or interactions between the two of you, that cause anxiety for her. She'd like to talk to you about these things, as per my recommendation."

  I grunted. "Sure..."

  He blinked, expecting some other reply, I guess.

  "Very well... I thought it would be a good idea to hold these conversations here, in a safe environment where the both of you can express yourselves. Anything that is discussed in my office can remain here..."

  I'd rolled my eyes involuntarily, and he faltered. He coughed, swallowed and looked a bit peeved.

  "... that way when you go home, you don't feel the need to engage in confrontation."

  Another grunt. "Sure..."

  That really seemed to tick him off. I laughed mentally, and wondered what Kayla would say to all of this.

  It was much more entertaining thinking of her than listening to this pretentious little shit, so I imagined what would happen if she'd walked in at that very moment.

  The door opens and the therapist's assistant walks in. She's stunning. Her heels click on the hardwood floors, and her long, shapely legs rise up to a tight skirt that hugs her hips and leaves little to the imagination.

  Those hips sway from one side to the other as she walks over behind her boss's desk and bends over to look inside a file cabinet. The tight jacket that she's wearing flares open and the silken blouse, whose first three buttons are undone, give me a peek inside, the beautiful mounds framing an elegant necklace that drops in between her breasts.

  She glances up at me and meets my eye. She knows where I've been looking. She's wearing glasses that have slipped down her nose so she reached up to push them back to their proper place. As she does, a hint of a smile appears on her face, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She has large silvery earrings with green gems that match her eyes.

  She leans back behind the desk, resting her shapely, skirt-covered posterior on the bookshelf, shaking her head at me as she crosses her arms below her breasts. Her smile widens, then. She starts fingering the buttons on her jacket, twisting them one at a time until they pop open, showing me how the blouse is molded to her torso.

  She discards the jacket and moves towards me, hips swaying, as she pulls the blouse from out of the skirt, and undoes all but one button. The one in the very middle. This allows me to see her belly button, peeking over the edge of her skirt. Her skin glistens with a pearlescent sheen. She's excited to see me.

  She comes closer to me, walking to the side of my chair as I follow her navel with my eyes. I reach out to put my hands on her but she catches them. She bends closer as she raises my right hand towards her lips. She runs the tip of my fingers across her plump, gorgeous mouth, flicking her tongue in between them.

  Now moistened, she moves my hand down her neck and chest, tracing a sensual map across her body. She shivers as my fingertips trace the outline of her breasts, and she leaves me hovering over the last button, looking at me expectantly.

  I waste no time and hook my finger on the button, snapping it. She gasps.

  Now unbound, her breasts push open her blouse, encased within a lacy purple bra through which I can clearly make out her nipples. They're pushing against the soft fabric, beconing me to touch them. She takes my hand and only allows me to briefly pass over them, but I feel their hardness, and her excitement, through them.

  Her body is giving off a palpable heat, now. Her breathing becomes ragged as she continues to trace her way down her body with my hand in hers. She presses my hand to her flat abdomen and releases it, reaching around herself to undo the clasp in her skirt. She turns sideways and I can see the beautiful S that her silhouette strikes.

  Her tight skirt also wants to flee from her, because it glides smoothly off her hips, leaving her standing there next to me in a matching purple thong and garter belt that holds up her translucent nylons. I hadn't noticed them from far away, but up close I could now make out the pattern that caused the shimmering effect on her long, delicious legs.

  She walks around me, leaving my hand feeling cold and empty as I lose contact with her, but I quickly spin my head around so I don't miss the incredible sight of those swaying hips, those bouncing, barely contained breasts. As she comes around to stand before me again, I lean forward but she places a hand on my face, covering it.

  When she withdraws it, I see she's knelt in front of me. She grabs both my hands and places them on her shoulders, inviting me to push her open blouse completely off of her. I linger over the straps to her lacy bra, and she smiles at me, running her pink tongue across her lips before biting them and nodding at me.