Allison’s mind flicked back to the look on his face, so direct, so amused. Your flamingo is trembling. A lot more than the damn flamingo had been trembling at that moment. Even now, a remembered flush swept from her belly down to her thighs, and Allison sighed at the heat. Her head tipped back against the edge of the old claw-foot tub and her fingers strayed downward automatically, finding the source of the warmth, tracing along the seam of her pussy and flicking lazily at her clit. When she realized what she was doing, she snatched her hand away and sat up abruptly, cursing under her breath. No time for that now, she had a raid to prepare for.
A muted bleep from the direction of the living room told her she had new email. Still breathing heavily, still cursing at herself, Allison scrubbed herself dry with a towel and put on her bathrobe. As she walked into the living room, she pulled the clip from her hair and let the silky strands tumble loose, waves of dark chocolate brown contrasting sharply against the snowy white terrycloth of the robe. She knelt in front of the coffee table and clicked the mail icon, and somehow was not surprised to see that the new message was from the university mail account of Seth.Brantley.
Hey there, Princess of the Vowels,
I realize that the whole face-to-face thing this evening freaked you out. Me too, actually, but I got over it once I was sure you really weren’t a student. I hope you’ll still come and play silly games with me and my friends, since we really do need a healer and may not be able to raid tonight without one. Usually Marielle Chan from the math department is our healer, but she’s at a conference this weekend.
We use voice chat during these weekend events. If you decide to come along, look for the server information in the guild message when you log in. You’ll need a microphone to talk, but even if you don’t have one, you can still listen in. Helps with coordinating our attacks.
I’ll be in front of the auction house at 9:15, our time. We’ll deck you out sufficiently to get you through this raid. My brother Drew does enchanting so he can beef up your gear a bit more too. Assuming you come along. Which I hope you do.
See you tonight,
Notmyrealname
P.S. I find your hair flamingo enchanting, by the way. Especially when it’s trembling.
* * * * *
The dungeon raid went well, fast-paced and thrilling. Allison hadn’t always succeeded in her efforts to heal the members of the group, but none of them seemed to mind that much. They didn’t seem to take the game as seriously as most of the players she was familiar with. She hadn’t been the only last-minute substitute and the other two new group members ended up dying during almost every big fight, but everybody seemed fairly cheerful about it.
Allison wasn’t used to doing raids, where an organized group went into a dungeon together, each player performing a pre-determined role for the benefit of the team. Dungeons were more difficult than everyday play because they were designed to challenge experienced groups. It was an aspect of the game she hadn’t really explored because she typically played alone or with whoever was online and wanted to group up. Now, as she rearranged her character’s inventory while the post-game conversation spun out, she was still stunned at the quality of some of her share of the loot from the evening’s exploits.
Voice chat was another unexpected pleasure. Hearing the other players—which she normally never would, given her line of study—lent an entirely new twist to the game. More immediacy, and also more levity. She learned many in-jokes during the course of the evening.
Players started to sign off, or drift off to other areas within the game world to complete quests. Some kept their microphones on, others turned voice chat off, though they stayed in the game. It was evident they all had clear agendas for after the raid. Allison felt strangely let down after the camaraderie of the past few hours. She decided to log off, and almost missed the flashing pink letters of the personal message Seth had just sent. She lifted her finger from the escape key just in time and glanced at the chat dialogue.
Notmyrealname: Hey, don’t go anywhere.
She shifted her legs, stretching them out to the coffee table and repositioning her laptop. Over the speaker, she heard Drew tell a joke. Something about finding something unexpected in the dungeon. She couldn’t hear the punch line over the static as another of the players signed off, but the rest of the crowd was cackling. To reduce the static she tried switching her microphone off, leaving just the speakers on.
“Dude, that’s so disgusting it’s awesome,” somebody snickered. It sounded like the one they called Clyde, another of the large crew who were lecturers at a university in California. She thought he was an engineering professor, but couldn’t remember for sure. He sounded nothing like any engineering professor she knew.
“It’s funny because it’s true,” Drew shot back.
“TMI, bro,” Seth contributed.
“Don’t knock it ’til you try it, my man.”
Notmyrealname: Drew’s a little…alternative.
Aeiou: That’s okay. Whatever floats his boat. It is TMI though.
Notmyrealname: Did you have fun?
Aeiou: I did. And you were right, it was geeky good fun!
Notmyrealname: Did you write down everything everybody said?
Aeiou: ROFL. I cut and paste. I didn’t have time for it tonight though. I should get your student to write me a program to do it automatically somehow. It was tempting. Any liars in the bunch?
Notmyrealname: I’m not telling, that would take all the sport out of it for you. And render them useless as subjects.
Aeiou: I really wasn’t taking notes.
Notmyrealname: I believe you. You were busy keeping Dumb and Dumber alive. Sheesh.
Aeiou: Is it always like that?
Notmyrealname: No, it’s usually better. You did better than anybody expected, it was those two who were the problem. Well, not a problem exactly. It’s all about the timing, and it’s just harder with new people, getting the group dynamic right. They’ll get there, and so will you. But tonight was enjoyable for other reasons. Did your flamingo finally get over her case of nerves?
More players were signing off. Allison typed a few goodbyes into the group chat window then clicked back to the private conversation.
Aeiou: She did. She was too busy to be nervous too.
Notmyrealname: Oh really? Dare I ask what she was busy doing? I can think of myriad uses. All those feathers…
Aeiou: It’s just a pen!
Notmyrealname: A likely story. You seem so fond of it, I can’t help but wonder why. The “pen” ruse would be a perfect cover.
Allison giggled, even though she knew she couldn’t be heard. She took another sip of wine, realized she was on her third glass and thought briefly that she would probably regret anything she typed after this point.
Aeiou: You caught me. The flamingo pen is a secret sex toy.
As soon as she’d hit “enter” and saw the text scroll up onto the screen, she knew she was in trouble.
Notmyrealname: Aha! I knew it. Okay, more importantly, does anybody else know?
She gulped and bit her lip, knowing she should stop the line of discussion short. Knowing that, in fact, she should have stopped it quite some time ago.
Aeiou: Of course not. But you’re an anonymous online friend who could be anyone. You have no way to know if I’m lying or not. For all you know, I could be a forty-five-year-old accountant named Fred with a beer gut and a comb-over.
There was a lengthy pause, more than long enough for a slick worm of anxiety to make its way through her midsection. Then Seth’s answer came, and she read it with heart pounding.
Notmyrealname: Anonymous. Interesting. If you want to play it that way, I wouldn’t be averse to it. Do you? Want to play?
Aeiou: I take it we’re no longer talking about raiding dungeons?
Notmyrealname: Just say whether you want to. You can say no if you want, I won’t be offended.
Aeiou: That’s probably the worst idea in the history of bad ideas
. We’ve already met. Besides, I’ve never cybered. I don’t even know how.
Notmyrealname: You still haven’t answered my question, Allison.
She looked at her name, sitting innocently on the screen in its line of text, doing nothing in the world except identifying her. Reminding her of her real life.
Aeiou: Do you have to call me that?
Notmyrealname: Princess. Play with me, princess. The flamingo can play too.
Aeiou: The flamingo is an innocent. Let’s leave her out of this, Not.
Notmyrealname: How much have you had to drink?
Aeiou: Enough to do this, but not enough to blame it on the alcohol tomorrow. And how did you know I’d been drinking?
Notmyrealname: LOL. Good answer. So you are going to do this, eh? Interesting. And I know you’ve been drinking because it’s the only possible explanation. I have also been drinking. More than usual. Possibly enough to blame this on the liquor tomorrow, but fortunately not enough that I’ll have difficulty typing.
Allison snickered at the thought that immediately arose and typed a response before she had time to censor herself.
Aeiou: Even if you end up having to type with one hand?
Notmyrealname: Oh. My. God.
Aeiou: LOL.
Notmyrealname: What are you wearing?
Aeiou: Wow, you’re just jumping right in, aren’t you? A white terrycloth bathrobe.
Notmyrealname: Hmm. What are you wearing underneath it?
Aeiou: I am wearing a white terrycloth bathrobe.
Notmyrealname: I see!
Aeiou: I thought you might.
Notmyrealname: I wish I really could see, actually.
Aeiou: Imagination is always better. Reality is just disappointing.
Notmyrealname: I’ll leave that one alone for the moment. So where are you? Computer desk?
Aeiou: My living room. Sitting on the couch with my laptop in my lap and the mouse on a tray next to me.
Notmyrealname: Where’s your drink?
Aeiou: wineglass, also on the tray.
Notmyrealname: You left off a capital. I’m reading you as nervous. Relax. Have another sip of wine. Loosen your robe a little. Get comfortable.
Allison complied, reasoning she would likely have done so anyway. It seemed an appropriate thing to do.
Notmyrealname: Better?
Aeiou: Some.
Notmyrealname: I don’t want you too relaxed. Untie the sash on your robe and open it up.
Aeiou: Okay. The laptop burns my knees though.
Notmyrealname: Did you actually do it? I don’t think you did.
She fingered the loose knot nervously, worrying at the nubbly terrycloth with her fingertips. How could he know?
Aeiou: If I take my robe off, the laptop will burn my knees.
Notmyrealname: Nice. Do you have a coffee table? Could you put the computer on the coffee table and sit on the floor instead? Like…kneel on the floor in front of the laptop? I like that visual.
Allison shifted in her seat, suddenly aware of every nerve ending in her thighs. She eyed the coffee table in front of her suspiciously, as though it were complicit in this sudden madness between her and the sexy economics professor.
Aeiou: You’re not married or anything, right?
She was startled to hear the speakers come to life again.
“Drew, am I married or anything?”
“Dude. You wish. You loser. What are you doing, man? Hey, is that chick still—”
“Shut up.”
“Dude!”
“I am serious, man. Shut up. I’m cutting the chat server off now.”
“No, Seth, we’re still in the game. We’re doing daily quests. Your little gold-farming buddy here is behind on his quota.”
“Fine.”
Notmyrealname: Sorry about that. But anyway, you can hear I’m not married. Obviously, because any woman who met my family would run screaming.
Allison was still giggling at the interaction between the seemingly sophisticated economics professor and his earthier brother. She wondered what Drew did for a living, but filed the question for later.
Aeiou: Okay, so I’m sitting in front of my coffee table. What now?
Notmyrealname: Now I wait, because I don’t think you actually are sitting in front of your coffee table. My sixth sense tells me you’re still on your couch, waiting to see what I’ll type next.
Aeiou: How are you doing that? Do you have a secret camera rigged in my apartment or something?
Notmyrealname: That would be a different game.
She slid the laptop from her lap to the table and knelt in front of it, remembering after a second to move her cordless mouse as well. The mouse was, she noted for the first time, exactly the same shade of pink as her flamingo pen.
Aeiou: I’m in front of the coffee table now. Do you believe me?
Notmyrealname: Without a webcam, I suppose I’ll have to. I remain skeptical, however. Now, untie your robe and push it off your shoulders.
Fingers shaking again, Allison undid her sash and slid her robe down her shoulders. The heavy fabric pooled at her elbows. Her nipples peaked instantly from the sudden exposure to the air-conditioned chill in the room. She slugged back another swig of wine before typing again.
Aeiou: All right. I’ve done that. Shouldn’t it be your turn now?
Notmyrealname: I’m already naked.
Aeiou: Bullshit.
Notmyrealname: I’ve been naked the whole time. I took a shower right before I got into the game, I just never bothered to get dressed. I’m actually sitting in front of my computer in the buff. With my glasses on, of course. My towel is still over the seat.
Aeiou: Okay. Wow. Interesting visual. And you always tell the truth, you said. So I suppose I believe you. It seems a guy-ish sort of thing to do.
Notmyrealname: That’s me. Guy-ish. So, speaking of naked, we were talking about your robe being off. Which means, if I were there, I would probably be sucking on your nipples right about now.
Allison’s nipples responded as if he had done just that, tightening into stiff, tingling buds. She squirmed on her feet, recognizing a growing need that would have to be addressed soon before it drove her crazy.
Notmyrealname: Speechless. I like that. Since I’m not there, you’ll need to do the hard work yourself. Use just your fingertips. Tease. If I were there I would just tease.
Aeiou: ok
Notmyrealname: one hand?
Aeiou: yes
Notmyrealname: Does it feel good? Do you want more?
Aeiou: y
Notmyrealname: Allison? Do you want to use the voice chat?
Aeiou: NO.
Notmyrealname: Okay, just asking. It’s okay. Don’t panic.
Aeiou: I’m not.
Notmyrealname: You were. But it’s okay. Take your robe off the rest of the way. I feel underdressed, princess.
Aeiou: ur using both hands again
Notmyrealname: And I gather you’re not. I like that. I won’t be using both of mine for long.
Her mind supplied an image, from nowhere, of Seth sitting at a slightly ratty computer desk, lit only by a flat-panel monitor, leaning forward on a wheeled task chair while a half-erect penis rose from his lap. Sliding her robe off, she let it puddle around her hips and started typing again.
Aeiou: I never do things like this.
Notmyrealname: Get that hand off the keyboard, princess. You should be playing with yourself, not worrying about the shift key and things like punctuation.
Aeiou: im so gonna regret this crap cant tttype w just left hand
Notmyrealname: Hmm. So you’re using your right hand for the other stuff? Thank you for the detail. I think you should probably slide that hand south now. Is your hair up or down?
Aeiou: down
Notmyrealname: How long is it when you don’t have it up? Is it past your shoulders?
Aeiou: y
Notmyrealname: I’d like to bury my face in it and nibble on your neck.
I wanted to do that at dinner, actually. Take your hair down and run my hands through it. And whisper sweet nothings in your ear. Is your hand between your legs?
Aeiou: n
Notmyrealname: It should be. Imagine it’s my hand. If I get back on the voice chat will you at least just listen? So I can use both hands?
Aeiou: not a good idea
Notmyrealname: none of this is a good idea
Aeiou: i’m imagining yr hand
Notmyrealname: please get back on voice
Notmyrealname: u have a great voice
Aeiou: Not safe. Isn’t your brother still on?
Notmyrealname: It’ll just be us. A different channel. You’ll see when you log into it. I don’t know why I want this, I never do shit like this, but since we’re doing it I really, really want to hear you. I want to hear you when you come. Please?
She didn’t know what possessed her to agree. Later, she would see it as the first in a long line of fateful decisions, decisions that were unlike her. But as if her hands were hypnotized, she found herself typing her consent, and then logging off the voice chat program and re-logging into the channel where she saw only Seth’s screen name. She flicked on the microphone and cleared her throat nervously.
“Are you there?” she asked softly, not sure why she was almost whispering.
“Yeah. Are you sure you’re okay with this?” His voice sounded rougher, huskier. She wondered if it was the beer or the lust. She wondered whether she would ever find out.
“I am not at all sure of that. But I’m just snockered enough to go with it.”
“Both hands?”
She laughed, startled. “Yes, with both hands. You’ll just need the one though?”
“I can find uses for the other one. Hey, close your eyes. It helps.”
“Helps? Are you nervous too?”
“I don’t make a habit of this type of stuff either, lady.”
“Okay, my eyes are closed. Now I’m just listening.”
“Hmm. All right then, just listen. Rewind a little. With both hands, of course. Which should be cupping your breasts and lightly—very, very lightly—rolling your nipples with your fingertips.”
How to Tell a Lie Page 3
