by Darien Cox
“Yeah.” Tim leaned against the opening of my cubicle, close enough that I could smell his cologne. “It was a good time. I’m hurting a little today though.”
His gorgeous smile dimpled his cheeks, and I grinned back at him nervously, thinking back to the moment last night when I briefly suspected he was the one speaking through my computer. “Did you stay the whole night?”
“Until about midnight, yeah.”
I let out a soft sigh of relief. Tim was not my hacker. But my hacker knew about Tim, and that was enough to make me jittery again.
“You okay, Jonathan?”
“Me? Yeah. A little tired. Why?”
“I don’t know.” He studied me with lowered brows. “You look…troubled.”
“Do I?”
“To be honest Jonathan…” Tim hesitated, and a pink blush stained his cheeks.
“What? What is it?”
Shrugging, he sighed. “To be honest you always seem a little weird around me. I hope it’s not because I’m gay.”
“No! Jesus, Tim. I’m not like that. I just…I just don’t know you very well.”
“Yeah. I know. You’ve worked here a year, but it seems like every time I join in on after-work drinks, you can’t go that night. But then when I don’t go, I always hear that you were there. I wasn’t sure if you were avoiding me or something. Figured you don’t like me for some reason.”
“No, I…” I avoid you because I like you. “It’s just a coincidence. I didn’t go out last night because I had to come in here today.” I forced a smile. “See? Here I am. At work.”
“So you are.” Tim chuckled. “I’m sorry. Guess I’m just being paranoid. Straight guys get weird around me sometimes.”
I held his gaze. It was on the tip of my tongue, and I almost blurted it out. I’m not straight. Instead I cleared my throat, pushed my glasses up on my nose, and muttered, “No, nothing like that. I’m not…I don’t think like that, Tim.”
“Okay. So maybe we can go out for a beer sometime.”
My brows shot up. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah, definitely.”
“Great.” He flashed his megawatt smile.
I was so flustered, but I wanted him to keep talking to me. “So, what are you working on today?”
Tim rolled his eyes but smiled sweetly at me. “You can’t possibly be interested in that.”
“It’s gotta be more interesting than my work,” I said. “To people like me who know little about computers you’re like a superhero.”
“Ha, I’m sure. You’re just teasing me.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” I said.
His eyes flicked over my body before meeting my gaze again. It was just a quick once-over, not a full-on checking me out. But I was paying such close attention to his eyes there was no way I could have missed it, and I burned inside.
“Okay, Jonathan.” Tim laughed. “You want to hear about the new firewalls we’re putting up? Will that fascinate you?”
“Hey, do you know a lot about virus protection?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
“I’m the superhero of protection.” He nudged my knee with his playfully, and my brain went off to Disney Land. “Why, you having problems?” He pointed to the computer on my desk.
“No, not with this one. With my personal computer. What would you recommend if you really wanted to like…keep hackers out? For example.”
“Hackers?” His head jerked back. “You think you’ve been hacked?”
“Yeah. Pretty sure. At first I thought it was a bot, but then last night it started talking to me, and made clear it had been watching me.”
“Watching you…through the webcam?”
I sighed, frowning. “Yeah. I’m gonna drop it off at the shop after work, but I don’t really trust they’ll be able to fix it. If I end up with a new one or not, I want to protect the hell out of it this time.”
“Oh, you have it with you? Why don’t you let me take a look? I don’t blame you for being skeptical about the shop, most of the idiots that work in those places don’t actually know anything about computers.”
“You don’t have to do that. I mean…you’ve got your own work to do.”
“It’s no problem. Just let me take a look. I’ll do a rootkit scan and a bunch of other stuff. Maybe I can save you a trip.”
“Wow, that’s really nice of you to offer, but I don’t want to cut in on your time.”
“Jonathan.” He nudged my knee again and gave me that dimpled smile. “It’s really no problem. I’ve got some free time this afternoon, I’ll get it back to you before you go home. You here all day?”
Before I knew it, I was pulling my laptop out of my briefcase and handing it over. Tim’s proximity had my entire body tingling, and I’d probably have carved out my own liver and handed it to him if he asked. “Here you go.”
“Great. Write down your login info for me?”
I jotted the info down on a sticky and handed it to him. “Thanks, Tim. But you don’t have to do it today. Whenever you get a chance. I’ll pay you of course. But it’s not urgent.” Yes it is. It’s urgent and I feel threatened.
Tim studied my face. He seemed to see something in my eyes, because he gave my shoulder a quick squeeze. “I’ll take a look at it now. Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”
“Thank you.”
“And you don’t have to pay me.”
“Tim, come on. Of course I do.”
“Just buy me dinner sometime, and we’ll call it square.”
My stomach flipped. “Oh. Sure. I will. Thanks, Tim.”
“No problem.” He flashed me a final smile, then left with my laptop.
Wow. Did Tim Greenfield just ask me to dinner? Okay, he asked me to take him to dinner as payment for working on my computer. It wasn’t a date. But before that he asked if I wanted to grab a beer sometime. It didn’t mean anything. He thought I was straight. So why did it feel like it meant something?
I didn’t know how to deal with it. I’d never spent time alone with a man I liked in that way. Tim was my only real-life crush, so I’d kept him at arm’s length thus far, like one of the fantasy guys in my porn videos. And that thought made my gut tighten, remembering Tim’s picture slotted in the middle of that porn montage last night. Shit…what if I hadn’t properly cleared everything out, and that fucking image somehow came up while he was trying to fix the thing?
No. I’d cleared everything out. I’d been thorough. But holy fuck, what if I’d missed something? He’d think I was…well, nothing good could come from him finding a porn montage on my computer with his damn face in the center.
Fear is a hell of a thing. In the past twenty-four hours, I’d learned this. It made your stomach clench and breathing shallow. Caused dizziness, tingling, and even triggered your asshole to clench up—maybe an instinctive response so you wouldn’t shit yourself.
For the rest of the afternoon, I sweated it out, so worried I could barely concentrate on my work. I kept imagining Tim coming back to my cubical, furious and demanding ‘What the fuck is this?’ as he showed me the porn montage he’d found. And me, awkwardly trying to explain that I hadn’t created the image. That some mysterious hacker did it. I’d sound like a lunatic, because why would a mysterious hacker have Tim’s photo?
Because I stalked the company website just to stare at his picture, and that fucking hacker knew it. Knew all my dirty secrets.
I got myself into such a state I couldn’t eat lunch. My stomach was in knots. When I ducked into the bathroom late in the day, my blond hair was askew from sweating and running my fingers through it. I took my glasses off and splashed water on my face, then finger-brushed my hair back into place. When I returned to my cubicle, Tim was standing there at my desk, my laptop open on top of it. My heart pounded as I approached, bracing myself.
“Oh, Jonathan, there you are.”
Tim’s smile melted my nerves, and I let out a breath. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to te
ll you. I added some turbo protection for you. Let me know if you have any questions, but it’s this icon here.” He pointed. “But I’ve been going through it all afternoon Jonathan and…” He faced me and shrugged. “I can’t find anything wrong with it. I’m not sure if you think that’s good news or not.”
“Oh. Nothing? So you didn’t find anything…weird on there?”
“You mean besides that X-Men desktop background?”
I flushed. “Oh. Ha, yeah. I just…liked the picture.”
Laughing, Tim squeezed my shoulder like he’d done before. “Don’t be embarrassed. I like Wolverine too. So should I give you my number? In case you have questions?”
“Yeah,” I said a little too quickly. “That’s probably a good idea.”
We exchanged numbers, then Tim stepped back, stuffing his phone in his pocket. “So let me know if you have any problems or questions. But I’m giving it a clean bill of health.”
“Okay. So, that’s it then, huh? There’s nothing wrong?”
“As far as I can tell. I was thorough, believe me.”
“You didn’t hear any…buzzing sounds?”
“Nope. Nothing like that. Hey, are you the one who disabled the mic and webcam?”
“Yeah. This morning.”
“Well, I left them that way for you. Leave them off, just in case. Anyway, I changed some of your settings. No one should be able to access it again, but if you have any more problems, let me know.”
“What about the hacker?”
“I didn’t find any evidence that your computer’s been externally breached. If someone hacked you, then they’re way out of my league. I like to think I know what I’m doing, but I found nothing. If you still want to return it or take it in, we should undo the new protection though. I probably voided your warranty.”
“No, that’s okay, thanks Tim.” Tim gave me that priceless smile, and I got lost in his blue eyes. “Should I um…can you go for dinner tonight?”
“Ah, I can’t tonight. Got plans.”
I was immediately humiliated. “Oh right. Of course. It’s Saturday. Of course you have plans.”
“We’ll do it next week. Sound good?”
“Yeah. Sure. Next week.”
“See you Monday, Jonathan.”
“See you Monday.”
I stared at my laptop screen, still open on the desk. I remained there for a time, watching, daring something to happen. Eventually I shut it down and slid it back into my briefcase.
My intention had been to stop at the computer store on the way home to return it. But I drove right past the place without stopping. I told myself Tim’s warning about voiding the warranty was the reason. That I wasn’t purposely courting danger.
But I was curious, and on edge, my nerves lit up like an electric current. Anxiety and anticipation lingered, something deep in my senses telling me this wasn’t over.
****
I stopped at my favorite Thai restaurant, and instead of ordering takeout, I sat down and ate by myself. I was avoiding going home, which wasn’t like me at all. I loved being home, enjoyed my own company. It was usually my sanctuary, the one place I could be myself and indulge my fantasies and secrets. But home didn’t feel like sanctuary anymore. Something had invaded it last night, if only via my computer. It had read my emails, hinted that it knew where I lived. Watched my activity for nearly a month—ever since I’d bought that machine.
Despite Tim Greenfield’s assurances, I decided I should probably get rid of the thing, and not risk booting it up again. But after the restaurant, I was tired and my body was coming down off the adrenaline spike of that afternoon when my nerves nearly did me in, so I didn’t want to think about my computer problems anymore. I headed home, determined to relax in my own house tonight and not allow some anonymous stranger to control my emotions. I could deal with getting rid of the computer tomorrow.
It was dark by the time I got home, and as I was walking up the path to my front door I stumbled when something swooped past my face. My briefcase dropped to the ground as a gust of air lifted my hair, and something smacked right into the side of my head.
Gasping, I ducked down, covering my head, looking in all directions to find the culprit. Which I did, up above me, two jerky shadows circling. Bats. Bats swooping down and attacking my head. I was certain it wasn’t intentional, but it freaked me the fuck out, so I grabbed my briefcase and ran for the door as I spotted another dark shape diving earthward out of the corner of my eye.
Once inside I locked the door, breathing heavily. Bats couldn’t turn doorknobs of course, but I felt unsafe suddenly. Another weird coincidence.
Bats have an internal skeleton, similar to humans.
“Fucking hell.” I flipped the light switch and set my briefcase down, my hands shaking slightly. Hungover or not, I needed a drink.
There are cats and bats and fruit flies within the vicinity of your home.
I walked into the kitchen and flicked the light on. Pleased to see my fruit fly trap was full, tiny black dots saturated and clinging to the side, I wrapped it in a plastic bag and threw it in the trash. The kitchen appeared free of flying insects now, and I was relieved. Sticking my leftover Thai food in the fridge, I grabbed a bottle of wine and poured myself a glass, carrying it into the living room.
The house felt too quiet tonight, so I hooked my phone up to the speakers on my desk and played some music before relaxing back on my recliner. Sighing, I considered what I was going to do tonight, since I had no computer to watch movies on. I could read, but my eyes were burning from working on spreadsheets all day. I could call friends and go out somewhere, but didn’t really feel like it. I had that Halloween party with Drew on Tuesday night, and that would probably be enough socializing for one week.
Instead I ran a bath, turned the music up loud, and brought my wine in with me. After soaking for an hour, I changed into lounge pants and a tee shirt, and did a little picking up around the house. With the hot bath and the housekeeping, I’d gotten warm, and opened the window in the living room. Pausing, I leaned in to the screen, searching the darkness of my backyard. No black cats tonight. Only crickets.
After pouring myself a second glass of wine, I returned to the living room, and my eyes kept darting to my briefcase still resting by the front door.
Don’t do it, Jonathan. I couldn’t believe I was even thinking about it.
I could see the edge of my laptop sticking out the corner of the briefcase, and it seemed to taunt me, posing a challenge: I dare you.
Sipping my wine, I turned away. Paced the room a few times, then turned back. Setting my glass down on the desk, I went and retrieved the briefcase. My hands seemed to have a mind of their own as I pulled out my laptop and set it on the desk. Opened it up, and logged in.
Nothing happened. X-Men desktop background, icons all in a row, no buzzing, no flickering. Just a normal computer. I went online and signed into Netflix, my pulse drumming as I waited for a bubble to pop up, or something to happen. I unplugged my phone and shut off the music, then plugged the speakers into the computer and resumed my detective show. It had kept my place, and I watched without incident as the hero caught the perp in the alley, revealing the killer was the mild-mannered secretary we’d met earlier in the episode. Damn it, I was almost certain the killer was the money-launderer’s barber. I couldn’t catch a break.
The episode ended, and I let it continue on to the next one.
Fifteen minutes of viewing and I began to relax. No voices spoke to me, no bubbles popped up, and I silently thanked Tim Greenfield. Thinking about Tim’s light brown hair and baby blue eyes made my mind wander. I paused the program and got more wine. When I sat back down, I stared at the screen, less than enthusiastic about the episode I was watching. I was horny. Really horny.
I wanted to watch some porn.
“Don’t be stupid,” I whispered and resumed Netflix.
The episode continued, but my mind refused to focus on it. The wine was lowering my
inhibitions, making me stupid and brazen as I thought about visiting one of the porn sites. I knew how reckless this idea was. I wanted to watch men fuck, but there was more to it than that. I wanted to prove to myself that the hacker was gone. I supposed I wanted to call him out, to see if he would take the bait.
Masking tape still covered the webcam, which I knew was disabled along with the microphone. Even so, I was well aware I shouldn’t be taking chances. But before I knew it, I’d closed out of Netflix, and found a video of three naked men in a locker room shower. As I watched them kiss and fondle and stroke each other’s cocks, I rubbed myself over my lounge pants, but went no further. Hesitating, giving the hacker a chance to make his presence known.
One of the men in the video dropped to his knees and took a cock in his mouth. Steam and shower spray, moans and grunts, blowjobs and hand-jobs. Hands against the tile wall, a big dick penetrating a narrow ass. My need to get off began to outweigh my caution, and I slid my pants down and took hold of myself. Pumped a little cocoa butter from the lotion on my desk, and I was no longer holding back, working away at myself as I viewed the scene.
Onscreen, two men had the third on his hands and knees, one fucking his ass, the other shoving his cock in and out of his mouth.
A gasp left me as I came, jerking myself to completion. The trio onscreen weren’t done yet, but I was, so I clicked out of the video and cleaned myself up. Tucking myself back in place, I pulled up my lounge pants and relaxed back into my seat, picking up my wine. Nothing had happened. No interference. No voices. No buzzing. Raising my glass, I silently toasted Tim’s turbo virus protection.
I resumed my Netflix show, feeling light, and not just from the orgasm. I’d been carrying a weight on my shoulders all day, and now it had been lifted. I was in the clear.
Ten minutes later, the screen froze up.
Chapter Three
“No, no, no. What the fuck.”
I repeated my routine from last night: hitting play repeatedly, trying to close out of Netflix. Everything remained frozen. I attempted a hard shutdown, pulse quickening when I got no response.
