by Emily Bishop
“Are you touching yourself?” he asks.
“I am,” I reply. Amazing how easy one can adapt to typing with one hand.
“Good. I want you to remove all of your clothing if you’re still wearing any. I want you to be absolutely naked for this next part.”
I glance down. I didn’t really take the time to remove all my clothing. Things happened so fast. My sweatpants and underwear dangle around my ankles. My tank top is askew. I’d slid my hand beneath the fabric to touch myself. Now he wants all of this gone so that I can do as he commands.
Oh my god, this is hot.
I slide my pants and underwear off. Next I slink out of my shirt, until I am completely naked in my apartment. Red wine is coursing through my veins, warming my body even more for another round. I gaze down then pick the phone back up.
“Done,” I say.
“Good. Now I want you to picture me sitting across the room, watching you. I want you to give me a show, and I’m going to tell you exactly how to give it to me.”
My gaze shoots across the room. A ghostly image of Booker Knight floats in my mind’s eye, and I’m taken aback for a moment. What the hell is he doing here? I want to imagine my Master. Not my stupidly handsome asshole-of-a-man boss.
I try to picture someone different, but my mind’s eye won’t cave. Master continues to look like Booker, and he leans in, his eyes filled with a ravenous hunger.
For me.
Well, there’s nothing for it. I suppose that’s just what he’ll have to look like until the image clears.
“I see you,” I type. “You’re ready to guide my hand.”
“Oh, your hand will be doing all the work now. I want you to look me in the eye while you spread your legs. If you have a table in front of you, prop your feet up on it so I can have the best view.”
I do as he says, watching my imaginary version of him. Cool air dances along my pussy lips, and I shiver with anticipation.
“I’m spread wide for you now,” I say.
“Play with yourself. Flick your clit and then slide your finger down to your center, but don’t put a finger in. Just play, up and down.”
My hand rushes to do as he bids. My fingertips glide along the slick creases of my dripping wet slit. I want to dip a finger inside so badly, but I do as I’m told. I only toy with myself. I gasp as my finger circles my clit again before it slides back down.
“How does that feel?” he asks.
“Fucking amazing,” I reply.
“Good. Two more strokes, then I want you to slide one finger in. I want you to ride it nice and slow. Fuck it for me.”
I’m happy to hear that. My box is open and waiting for me. I take my middle finger and slide it all the way inside. I fill myself with it, then slide it back out, keeping my pace slow as he commands.
I look up and catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection of my apartment window. My eyes are hooded, my finger working magic on my pink lips. I like watching myself, I realize. I insert an image of Master right next to me, giving us both a nice little show.
“Now slide in another finger. Pair them together, and spread your legs a little wider.”
My ring finger joins my middle, and I press in slowly. I know that I’m tight. I haven’t been exposed to anything much larger than my own fingers, and usually I can get off just using one. This fills me a little more, and as my pussy stretches to accommodate, I realize the sensation is beyond fulfilling.
It’s downright pleasurable.
I watch myself as I ride my two fingers, my legs spread wide for better access. I can feel another orgasm building.
“Do it faster now. Fuck yourself nice and fast, until you feel yourself ready to come.”
My fingers pick up the pace, gliding in and out of my body as I ride my hand. My hips rock back and forth with the rhythm I set for myself, and I fight the urge to close my eyes. I want to watch myself finish in the reflection. I want to see what it looks like.
I want to tell him that I’m coming, but I can’t. The phone drops from my hand as it shoots to my clit and rubs the little nub while I finger my pussy to completion.
“Oh god!” I cry out. My whole body pulses around my hand as my juices spill out. I collapse on the couch, my breasts heaving as I slowly come back down to Earth.
From the floor, my phone beeps.
I reach for a tissue and wipe my hands off before I pick it up to read his message.
“Was it a good one?”
I grin. I should say so. “Best I’ve ever had.”
“For a woman that’s never been with a man, that’s certainly saying something.”
“I think I might sleep for a week after this. I’ve never been so relaxed in my life,” I say.
I imagine him chuckling with satisfaction. He must be pleased. There’s no way he can be that skillful with his words and not be a little bit cocky.
Ha. Cocky.
The weird thing is, it feels as though I’ve actually been with him. His presence radiates around me, as if time and space don’t separate us. It’s the closest I’ve felt to another human being, maybe ever.
Man, I hope he’s not some crazy internet person.
That thought dampens my mood a little, though it can’t fully bring me down. I’ve never been so beautifully high on physical pleasure.
I want more.
Not tonight. Even as I suppress a yawn, Master types out his farewell.
“Busy day at the office tomorrow. Can we continue our conversation in the morning? It has been an absolute pleasure, Angel.”
“You can say that again,” I reply.
“I’m glad it was a good experience for you.”
“Good is an understatement. That was mind-blowing.”
“Excellent. That means we can do it again sometime.”
“I certainly hope we do,” I say. “Until then, have a good night. I’ll be thinking of you.”
“Likewise. Goodnight, my Angel. Until we speak again.”
“Goodnight.”
I close out the app and press my phone against my bare chest as I stare out into the dark night, not seeing anything but the beloved imaginary face of Master.
I wonder if he does look anything like Booker Knight. That wouldn’t be a bad thing, really, but it would be hard to like him as much. Booker is such an ass, I can hardly stand it. So why does the image of him get my blood boiling?
Questions best asked another time. I set the phone on my table and slide back into my pajamas, ready to get some sleep. Before I can even get off the couch, my phone rings.
I look at the screen and see Lucy’s name pop up. I also see the time, which is inordinately late for a work call. I pick up the phone and tap the answer button.
“Lucy? What’s going on?”
“Oh, good, you’re up. I’m freaking out right now, and I need someone to talk to.”
My warm euphoria cools to ice at her words, and I sink back into the sofa, prepared for the worst. “What is it? Is the company going under? Are we fired?”
“What? No. At least, I don’t think so. I just got an email from Mr. Knight saying he wants me to schedule an all-hands-on-deck meeting tomorrow at noon. Everyone has to attend. It’s mandatory.”
Anxiety trickles up my sternum, and I swallow. “What do you think that’s about?”
“I don’t know! That’s why I’m calling. I need you to talk me down.”
“Well, what did the email say?”
“Barely anything. It was sent from his phone like a minute ago, and all it says is to book the main conference room and to let everyone know attendance is mandatory. He didn’t give me an agenda or anything.”
“Well, maybe we all get Valentine’s Day bonuses.”
Lucy scoffs. “Can you be serious here, Sasha? What if something is seriously wrong with the app? What if there’s something big we didn’t catch? We might have to start everything from scratch.”
My stomach flips with nerves. My biggest fear in life is failure.
What if I’ve already failed in this, too? What if I was so caught up in my relationship with Master that I didn’t focus enough on other problems that might exist?
My god, what if they shut down the app before I ever get a chance to know who Master really is?
Panic courses through me as I close my eyes and focus on my breath. I take such pride in my job, but I let myself get sidetracked. I told myself I was doing research, but can I really call what I just did tonight “research?”
Um, no. No, I cannot.
“Lucy, everything’s going to be OK.”
My voice sounds forced even to me. Ugh.
“How do you know?”
“Because Booker Knight may be an asshole, but he’s a smart asshole. He’s not going to let this app fail any more than he’s going to stop breathing. We have to calm ourselves down and just wait and see what he wants to say.”
“You really think everything’s fine?”
No. Not after you freaked me out with your panicked phone call.
“Yes, of course. Try and get some sleep, and we’ll see what happens tomorrow. No matter what, we’re going to make it, right?”
“Right,” Lucy mumbles. “Thanks for talking me down, Sasha.”
“Any time. What are friends for?”
“Yeah. Well, see you in the morning.”
“See you,” I say. The call ends, and I carry my phone over to bed.
I want to text Master one more time. I want to tell him that I’m thinking of him. Is there some version of sexting that’s just cuddling? I’d love to do that before bed. I slide beneath my covers and plug in my phone before I turn off the light and stare up at the dark ceiling.
I can’t lose Master. If the meeting tomorrow goes south for some reason, we’ll have to speed up our questions. We’ll have to find a way to stay in touch.
I can’t imagine him not in my life, now. Strange, since I don’t even know what he looks like. Is the app really working? Will I love him no matter what he looks like, in the end?
My mind blurs as I drift off to sleep. I’ll have my answers tomorrow. I just hope I can keep my cool until then.
Chapter Ten
Booker
I can’t stop thinking about her.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t read through our conversation this morning. I couldn’t help myself. I had to have another session. I imagined it exactly as it happened before, though Sasha’s face once again intervened.
Curious. I never really thought I was into redheads. Apparently, I am. Not that I want to be with that one. Business and pleasure don’t mix. Rule number one. I lean back in my office chair and stare out at the city, lost in thought as I daydream about Angel.
I wonder what she’s doing right now.
I lift my phone and open the app. I think that this might be my biggest hit ever, if my own experience is any indication. Here I am, a man who doesn’t believe in love, possibly falling for a strange woman across the vast cavern that is the internet.
Isn’t life funny?
A niggling voice in the back of my head warns that this could end badly. The woman is a virgin. She’s a blurry image I can’t quite make out. There is a strong possibility that she might be terribly… not my type.
What if I’m not attracted to her? Is our emotional connection strong enough to surpass that, even over the test of time? Have I been imagining her to be a Venus, when in fact she is nothing of the sort?
What do I do then?
I shake the thought from my mind. There’s no point in thinking about that until it becomes an actual issue, and I didn’t make my money on worrying. I made it living in the present and taking challenges as they came.
I will do that here, too. Until proven otherwise, I’m going to believe that Angel is the goddess that I imagine her to be.
She has to be.
“Good morning,” I type.
This is the first woman I’ve spoken to where I initiate most of the conversation. Usually women are fawning over me, desperate for my attention. I’ve waited all morning for a text from Angel, and yet here we are. The fact that she makes me chase her is part alluring and part annoying. I’ve never had to pursue anyone before.
I love it, don’t I? Yes. I absolutely do.
“Hey there. Fancy meeting you here,” she responds, and I grin.
How is she so cute?
My grin fades as I realize I’m acting like a lovesick idiot.
Where is Booker Knight? Certainly not in this office.
“What are you up to?” I need to compose myself, for god’s sake. I have butterflies again.
Butterflies!
What kind of fresh nonsense hell is this?
“Just about to head into a meeting in a little bit. Otherwise, just thinking about what to have for lunch.”
Small talk. Nothing in particular. Somehow, even that seems to turn me on when it comes to Angel. All I can imagine is her taking a bite of ice cream, licking the spoon as she watches me with hungry eyes.
I clear my throat and shift in my seat.
“Might I suggest something healthy, like a beer and some fried chicken wings?”
“That does sound good. Now I’ll be daydreaming about it this whole time. Thanks a lot, Master!”
“What am I here for if not to slake your appetite?”
“You slake a lot more than that,” she replies.
Oh dear lord. I glance at my watch and wonder if we have time for a quick sext session. I love sexting with Angel. I can have another record for my own self pleasure later. The meeting’s about to start in a few minutes, so I don’t have time. Then again, I have a better idea. I tap on my keyboard.
“Why don’t you tell me exactly how you’d like me to pleasure you next time, and when I’m free again, I’ll see what I can do about that?”
“Ooh, that sounds exciting. Deal. I’ll be in touch, once I come up with a few ideas.”
“Looking forward to reading them.”
“You should be,” she says.
I see her leave the chat room then, and I turn off my phone. The meeting starts in a minute, and if I’m not there, who knows what kind of chaos will ensue?
I compile a series of folders and head to the main conference room. I emailed Lucy a fairly vague order on this, but I didn’t have the time or mental energy to put any more into it. After my session with Angel, how could I possibly? I stride down the empty hallway.
Must be the last one to arrive. Oh well. What’s a boss to do if not make a grand entrance? I step inside and a wave of faces looks up. I nod to the room in general and step to the head of the massive conference table. I take a seat and make eye contact with each person in the room, taking stock of who’s all here.
When my gaze lands on Sasha, I hesitate.
I’ve been imagining her in my head as Angel for long enough that it’s weird now to see her in person. She is a total stranger, an assistant, and now hers is the face that I masturbate to, but it isn’t, is it? I’m having a connection with Angel. I need to see her face so I can stop associating her with this woman I happen to think is attractive.
We need to get to the final image.
Someone clears their throat, and I realize that I’m staring at Sasha in a silent room. I finish taking count of everyone.
“Why does everyone look so nervous?” I ask.
A small chuckle echoes around the room, but the tension stays.
“Seriously? What did you all think this meeting was about? A mass firing?”
Not a single laugh for that one. OK, maybe I need to put more information into my company-wide meeting requests. Apparently, no news is bad news.
“Nothing bad is happening,” I reassure them. “In fact, this meeting is to plan and prepare a major event for the launch of our new app. February is coming up fast, and we need to start preparing to market accordingly.”
A wave of relief washes over the room, and I see several pairs of tense shoulders relax. I repress a laugh. It’s not funny, I rem
ind myself. These people take their jobs seriously. It is my job to respect that. There’s a quote about that somewhere in one of those management books, right?
“What kind of event, Mr. Knight?”
A woman in the back sinks into her chair a little more after asking. I think her name is Julia? What does she do here again?
Management books. I need to get on those, apparently. Knowing one’s own staff is probably an important component to success, isn’t it?
Who knows?
“A launch party. We’ll host it in a major landmark, maybe somewhere near the pier where we can see the Statue of Liberty or something. I’ll figure it out. The important thing is that everyone is in attendance. I want you to spread the word all over social media. I want you to get everyone you know and bring them in. This is going to be an open gala for as many people as we can get to attend, and when we’re there, we’ll have every single person open the app and start an account. That being said, if you’re in a relationship, now’s the time to explain that to your partner.”
“You want us to open an account on a dating app, even if we’re married?” a man asks.
I nod. “I do. If your marriage can’t survive a work experiment, you might be with the wrong person. You could even try and find your spouse on there and see if you can guess who they are. Make a game of it. Or open an account and leave it alone. The point is, we need a strong boost of initial numbers, and I’ll need every single one of you to support that if we’re to be successful.”
I glance around the room. There is more silence. Funny. The floor often sounds so boisterous and fun when I’m not around. Do these people realize that I’m the reason they have a job?
Perhaps not.
“Are there any other questions? I will provide more information as it becomes available, but I wanted all of us to come together well ahead of time so we can plan. The event will take place the weekend before Valentine’s Day. It will give singles a chance to get to know one another before the big event. Perhaps we can even market the opportunity to meet and reveal the surprise on that day. We’re selling romance here. Intrigue. Personality before looks.”
“Is there a dress code?” Lucy asks.
Her cheeks blossom with red as all eyes turn to her, and I shrug.
