5PM

by Chris Heinicke

  “Wow, a cartoon threesome. This is useful police work,” Ed says.

  “Shut your stupid mouth, rookie. We’re trying to draw this user out to see if she or he is the real killer,” Hannah says.

  “Do you really need me here then?” he asks.

  “Not really, but you’re welcome to stay or leave.”

  “Call me when you’re done, but make sure you watch the pervert scum next to you. If you feel any way in danger, shoot his brains out.”

  “This is highly irregular, isn’t it, for police?”

  Hannah swivels on her chair and faces me. “A lot of this is being done off the clock, so to speak. So I guess you could say this whole thing is irregular. No one at the station wanted to believe my theory of an online killer, so I had to go it alone. Eventually, I got Ed on board, even if he’s not completely convinced.” She comes in close and whispers in my ear, “But I think he’ll join me in anything if he thinks he has a chance to fuck me.”

  “Okay,” I say, and try and focus back to the onscreen action.

  “I think I’ll stay close actually, make sure this guy keeps his hands to himself.” Ed walks away to a far corner of the barn, grabbing a newspaper on his way from the desk Hannah and I are sharing.

  “You’ve gone quiet, Terry. Are you playing with yourself?” BluesGirl88 types.

  Hannah giggles when I respond. “Well, this is a pretty hot threesome.”

  “I wish you could see me right now, Terry. I’m at home with my legs spread, gently rubbing myself, and getting close to the edge. I want you, Terry, I want you inside me for real, your hot, sweating body pressed up against me while you bang me so hard it almost hurts.”

  “Why don’t we do it? Why can’t we meet and do this properly? I want to feel your body with my real hands, my real mouth, and my hard cock. This animated porn is great, but I want to again experience the physical beauty of real life sex.”

  “That’s impressive, Terry,” Hannah says to me.

  “From what I’ve heard, you’ve been getting plenty of real life sex,” BluesGirl88 types.

  “I’m talking about having sex with you again.”

  “What the hell do you mean? We haven’t even met.”

  “Are you sure about that, Emily? Or Lauren? I know you’re one of them.”

  “You really have no idea, Terry, and that’s what I like about you. It’s time for me to leave this party.” Her avatar grabs Erika19 by the throat and holds her head underwater. “But first I’ll make your little girlfriend here pay for your stupidity.”

  Hannah exits the chat and shuts down the program.

  “You think that little bitch can hide from me? I’m gonna find her and make her pay,” BluesGirl88 types.

  “You think you can hurt her, as in really hurt her?” I type.

  “She’s tracked this address,” Hannah looks at an app in the corner of the laptop’s screen. She yells to her partner, “Ed, call for backup, I need to get the witness to safety.”

  “You were warned, Terry.”

  Her last words stare back at me. Hannah clicks the exit icon on the chat program and tells me to get going. I can hear Ed making a call asking to get some more cops to this barn, saying he has a strong lead on the internet murders.

  “Come with me, Terry. I’ll take you somewhere safe.” Hannah stands and reaches for my hand.

  * * * * *

  “This is where I live. You’ll be safe here.” She parks her own car out the front of a block of units.

  We’re on a street full of apartments, condominiums, and townhouses. It’s not a low-income section of suburbia, but an area more common to the habitation of middle-income property renters. The owners of the properties in this area generally reside in the richer parts of the city, investing here to boost their wealth portfolio.

  “Which one?” I ask, hoping it’s the ground floor unit just in case.

  “Number 2. The one with the red door.”

  She locks her car and walks to the front entry door, a colour similar to blood helping it to stand out against the rest. I follow her, and curious thoughts swim through my mind about what the inside of a female cop’s house looks.

  “Please, close the door behind you,” she says. A few steps behind, I’m pointed to a lounge room containing little more than a couch and a TV sitting on a short wooden cabinet. There’s a pleasant smell in the air, almost like the carpets have been shampooed recently. Her footsteps fade away, and I hear a door open and close.

  These clothes, which were lent to me, aren’t a great fit. The jeans are a little loose around my waist and the long-sleeved shirt strangles my arms and chest a little. Going commando in jeans is never a nice feeling. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve never liked denim directly on my men parts. My eyes do a quick tour of this room, looking for mementos or photo frames or any artefacts to shine light on the woman in the uniform. Next to the TV is a picture of her with an old couple, who I assume are her parents, in what looks like her police academy graduation photo.

  In the corner of the room is a sealed cardboard box with a trophy sitting upon it and a digital clock on a small table to the right of the two-seater couch. Maybe life in the police force occupies so much of her life she has little opportunity to personify her surroundings.

  “Would you like a drink, Terry?” she yells from the end of the hallway. “I’m officially off duty and am hanging for a beer.”

  Off duty at one p.m.? She must have started work early today. I do feel for shift workers and the crappy hours they have to keep at times. “Beer sounds great,” I call back.

  I hear the sound of bare feet connecting with creaky floorboards making their way to a room closer to where I’m seated. A refrigerator door opens, and I hear glass rattling and a few seconds later, Hannah is standing in the doorway of the lounge room, a beer bottle in each hand.

  But it’s not the beers I notice. It’s her wearing a long T-shirt that comes halfway down to the knees of her bare legs. The top part has tank top like sleeves if you can even call them sleeves, and they hang half way down the sides of her athletically toned torso. There’s visible muscle definition in her biceps and triceps, and from the way her nipples poke through the material, I guess there’s no bra underneath.

  Her blonde hair is soaking wet, and if there is a sexier sight on a female’s head than shower hair, my mortal body will not be able to cope. She takes a long sip from one of the bottles, giving me a generous view of side boob.

  Noticing my glance, she takes the bottle from her mouth. “Well, I can’t be mad. I saw you totally naked today.” She takes slow steps to the couch and takes a seat next to me, passing me the other bottle.

  “Thanks.” I immediately take a big swallow, the cool liquid wetting my desert like throat. “I’m so confused about today, how you set me up for exposing myself to a police officer and treating me rough right up to the point of showing the temporary setup you had in that old barn. You do realise I was scared the whole time?”

  “Yes, we needed to convince your neighbours you had been arrested. The other part enabled me to make Ed believe you’re still a suspect and a perp in another crime. I am really sorry about it, Terry.” She leans against my shoulder.

  Oh, shit. Is it about to happen again? I’m looking at her face from less than a metre away, wanting to comb her wet hair with my free hand. Out of the police uniform, Hannah seems to have lost her hard edge and the tough façade. If she wants to have sex…

  “Terry, do you love your wife?”

  Way to kill my erection, but she brings up a good question. “Of course, I do.”

  “But you’re like every other man. You have needs, desires, and an unquenchable thirst for all the good things in life. It doesn’t mean you don’t love your wife. It just means you’re a normal male specimen who needs to spread his seed. It’s not your fault. It’s the way the male brain is wired.”

  “But we aren’t just simple animals. We have the ability to say no.”

  She ba
cks away and leans toward the corner of her side of the couch, her shirt rising as she moves and exposing her black panties as she takes another long drink from her beer. Doing nothing to cover herself back up, I’m faced with the real possibility that I can’t say no.

  “It’s hot in here, don’t you think?” she asks me.

  “Um, yes, it’s a little warm.”

  “Glad it’s not just me. Maybe you should take your shirt off.” She looks over at me, seeming to take me all in.

  How the hell do I keep finding myself with women making the moves on me? To hell with it—if I get to have sex with a cop, that’ll be another thing off my bucket list. “Maybe you should take yours off, too.”

  “Cheeky man, aren’t you?” She lifts it off over her head and throws it at me. Her breasts are small, but with her muscular build, it’s perfectly normal to expect that. I remove my shirt, and before I can comprehend my actions, we start kissing and our tongues dance the dance that our bodies soon follow.

  * * * * *

  We cuddle naked on the couch and kiss some more. After the way the morning started, I would have never thought we would end up like this.

  “Thanks for that, Terry. Sometimes I just need a good fuck to bring me back to Earth. Most men can’t take my energy and demands, but you did. I might keep you.”

  “We both know that can’t happen.”

  She turns so her back is curled into my front and I gently stroke one of her breasts and put my hand between her legs and stroking her gently.

  “I better get you home,” she says, even though I can tell she wants more. “I have an early start tomorrow.”

  “I can’t believe we ended up like this, but if you ever need to arrest someone, look me up.” I grin at her.

  “You’re a bad man,” she grabs my well-used appendage and massages it for a few seconds, “but that’s not a bad thing.”

  We put our scattered clothes back on, and I follow her to her car. We share a quiet trip to my home. I can’t stop thinking about her naked, and I just want to do it with her again. And again…

  She stops the car, and I lean over and start kissing her again and running a hand through her hair. Gently pushing me away, she says, “You have to go.”

  As I get out of the car, I wave at her as she heads off down the road. It’s late afternoon, and I’ve hardly eaten a thing all day, so I decide to order pizza. By the telephone is a photo of Talissa and me—the realisation I’ve once again had sex with someone who isn’t my wife hits me. Calling her mobile phone, my call goes straight to voicemail. I leave a short message saying I miss her and love her, and to please come home.

  Three days in a row I’ve been inside vaginas I shouldn’t have been in, but at the same time, I can’t help thinking how much fun it’s been—three different women with different bodies, but all of them unique and beautiful in their own way. Even in my prime, I didn’t have such luck in the space of three days.

  I have enough time to shower quickly and put my own clothes on before the pizza arrives. Washing the large meal down with a couple of beers, I’m bored and not in the mood for TV. I decide on a little time in the chat room might be the cure for my boredom Why I’m doing this I don’t know. I had one of the best sex sessions ever, which I’m ashamed to have to admit to given my twelve-year relationship with Talissa—ten of those as husband and wife.

  The piece of paper left by the babysitter is on the desk, and I decide to try her again. It takes a minute, but she accepts.

  “Wow, Mr Terry. Your avatar looks great,” she types.

  “Thanks. So can I ask why you left your chat username? How did you even know I use it?”

  “Your son went into the study and turned the computer on. He didn’t do anything on it, but when I saw what he did, I thought I had better turn it off. That’s when I saw the computer’s desktop, and there was 3DDreamChat.”

  Damn, I need to make the computer settings changed to password protected. “Okay,” I type, struggling to work out how to make conversation with an eighteen-year-old without sounding like a pervert. I mean, what on earth do I have in common with her?

  “So, yeah, anyway. I guess I wanted to chat with you because I haven’t had a father figure in my life for years. When I was nine, my mother found my father in the shed, a length of rope around his neck. Apparently, it was easier to support his family with a life insurance policy payout than to struggle week to week. Stupid man didn’t even realise the policy didn’t pay out in the case of suicide.”

  Oh, shit. Why is she telling me this? “So sorry to hear that.”

  “Anyway, I don’t care too much for chatting on here. All the guys just wanna fuck everything which looks female. You want to hang out tomorrow? I need some fatherly like advice. I need to make some big changes in my life, and I need a second opinion.”

  Oh, geez. Surely, I’m safe from temptation with her. She wouldn’t try to hit on someone twice her age, right? Her avatar is dressed in red and has long black curly hair, unlike her real life hair. I think for a few more seconds. “Sure, where do you want to meet?” I ask.

  “Your house. I’ll be around in the morning.”

  “I’ll cook some brunch then. Do you like bacon and eggs?”

  “Who doesn’t? I’m not one of those new-age vegan hippy types.”

  I chuckle out loud. But what have I got myself into? I see BluesGirl88 invite me in for a chat. She always seems to appear online when I’m talking to someone else. I accept and as her infamous mansion scene renders, I type, “I want to bring a friend here, too.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort, Terry. This is my fucking mansion and I decide who comes here. Is it that slut from yesterday? Or is it DancerGirl or whatever his or her name is?” BluesGirl88 asks.

  “Her name is babygirlblonde, and I know her in real life. She babysits my kids.”

  “Screwing the babysitter? That’s a little cliché even for you, isn’t it?”

  “You know nothing about me. All you ever want to do is screw or fight, and you know damn well DancerGirl can’t come and chat,” I type. I think about earlier today, and how Hannah and I thought she was on her way to the barn to confront either me or the chat user she knew as Erika19.

  “What happened to DancerGirl?” Bluesgirl88 asks.

  “Terry, what are you doing?” the babysitter types in the chat window she shares with me.

  “Sorry, there’s some pretty serious shit going down. Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I type to her.

  She disappears, and I hope I haven’t upset her. I turn my attention back to this psychotic blonde. “You killed DancerGirl. You chopped off his head.”

  “In the chat I did, so what? You can’t actually kill an avatar, you silly prick. Like you say, if you’re not…”

  “Enough!” I yell out as I type it. “Why should I bother talking to you?”

  “Because you can’t give me up no matter what you tell yourself. I’m like the drug you inject into your hungry vein, and I take over your whole body and have you under my control. You hate me, you love me, you need me, but you can’t have me. Why do I treat you like I do? Because I can, no other reason. I’m scared, Terry. Inside, I’m just a scared little girl who needs to be loved, owned, and worshipped. No one has come back to me over and over like you have, Terry.”

  Oh, my goodness. She’s never shown a vulnerable side before. I can’t kick her when she’s down. I need to lift her up. “It’s true I do need you, and I don’t know why, BluesGirl. You scare me sometimes. Other times you excite me… and then you infuriate me. I wish I could hold you and make you feel safe and have you look at me like nothing can hurt you. Let me save you from yourself.”

  “Terry, I wish it was that easy. My life is complicated, and I can’t let anyone into my real world. But here we can be whoever we want to be. We can be together every night and even though we don’t exist together in the physical world, we can be here. Just you and me, no one else, nothing else.”

  “Why can’
t we meet, baby girl? Why can’t we give it a shot and talk face to face and see what happens next. There are times when we make love on DreamChat that I can almost feel myself inside you. Do you feel it, too?"

  “I wish I could, Terry. I touch myself in real life when our avatars fuck, but all I feel is my own touch. I’m lonely, but I’m forced to live in a dream world because the real one just hurts. I don’t want to hurt anymore, Terry, but for that to happen, I need to cease existing. My world is black, tormented, and unable to contain anything more than my tortured soul. I wish I could let you in, but I can’t. And besides, if I exist in a world that isn’t real, nothing can hurt me.”

  She disappears, and I know I need to get off the computer and get back to the real world before she consumes me with her bizarre ramblings.

  What the hell have I got myself into?

  Chapter 8

  DAY 7

  Sunday morning seems so strange without my Talissa in bed next to me. If I said yesterday had been a strange day, it would be the biggest understatement in history.

  I’m showered and have had two cups of coffee already. I’m prepared to face a morning with a breakfast companion.

  There are other women on my mind, too. Hannah, the hot cop, who treated me bad and then treated me nice. The sex had been amazing, and all I wanted to do is to relive the afternoon we shared on the couch. I thought about her last night when I went to bed alone, but nothing in my mind could replace her physical presence next to mine, or the almost spiritual effect she had on me.

  And then there’s the enigma, BluesGirl88. Is she a mentally unstable psychopath or just playing the game? A murderer or just a poser? I never know what I’m going to get when I log onto the chat with her, and part of me fears maybe I like being treated bad. It could be another reason I felt drawn to Hannah. Oh, Hannah. Why can’t I get her out of my mind?

  There’s a knock at the door. I answer it and see Brittany is five minutes early. Once again, her height throws me. Wearing sandals, she still stands a couple of inches taller than me.