Voyeur - Lacey Alexander [7]
She decided to push her luck even further. FLYBOY2: Do it now. If you feel as big as a monument, this is probably a good time.
FLYBOY1: FLYBOY2: Why? FLYBOY1: I don’t have a ruler long enough. :) She lifted a grin in the direction of the webcam, amused, then posed the question that had just come to mind. FLYBOY2: If you can see me, can you also hear me? Am I typing all this for nothing? She was suddenly trying to remember if she’d moaned very much last night. FLYBOY1: The camera captures sound, but it can be muffled, so typing is better. Good. Maybe if she’d moaned, he hadn’t heard. FLYBOY1: Well, hot and sexy Laura, as much as I’d love to talk dirty with you all day, I have to sign off now. FLYBOY2: Companies to take over? Empires to topple? FLYBOY1: Something like that. She couldn’t help feeling vaguely disappointed that they were suddenly done. But then he IMed again. FLYBOY1: Will I see more of you tonight? She pulled in her breath at the loaded question. FLYBOY2: What do you mean? FLYBOY1: Exactly what I asked. But let’s make it earlier tonight. Ten, your time. Ah, yes—it was an hour earlier in L.A. She considered the various ways she might respond, finally settling on simple clarification. FLYBOY 2: Are you suggesting something similar to last night? FLYBOY1: Yes, honey. That’s EXACTLY what I’m suggesting. Except more. FLYBOY2: More? FLYBOY1: I want you to show me your pussy. Laura pulled in her breath, forced back to reality. FLYBOY2: I can’t. FLYBOY1: Why not? She hesitated, thought it through—then told him the truth. FLYBOY 2: I thought I was alone last night. I don’t think I could do that again—or more—knowing you were watching. It was a slight lie, but last night had been more fantasy to her than anything else. Only just now had she truly discovered the fantasy had been reality—and she simply didn’t think she was bold enough to do it again with the full knowledge that he was really watching her every naughty move. And to reveal herself even further? To show him the most intimate part of her, which only a handful of men had seen? And she had, at the very least, been dating those men. Never once had she fooled around with a stranger. His reply took longer than usual. FLYBOY1: You don’t know how much that disappoints me, Laura. Her, too—in a way—if she was honest. But she knew herself too well. And the fact was, as much as she’d just let herself slip wholly into this hot conversation, when she drew back and looked at it sensibly, it still seemed . . . dangerous. FLYBOY2: I’m sorry. FLYBOY1: No, honey, I’M sorry. The statement could be read two different ways, but she knew he wasn’t apologizing for having made her uncomfortable—he was bummed to hear the dirty fun was over. She didn’t answer, as there seemed nothing more to say. Although it remained unnerving to know he was still watching her. A solution came to mind, given that she planned to spend the next ten days in his vacation home. FLYBOY2: Maybe I should move the camera, point it at the floor. FLYBOY1: Don’t bother. I can move the lens around no matter which way you aim it. Her back went rigid. FLYBOY2: So you’re saying you’ll keep watching me, whether I want you to or not? Whether or not I’m even doing anything . . . naughty? FLYBOY1: What can I say? I like watching you. You like it, too—I can tell. So just think of me like a fly on the wall. And who knows, if I’m patient, maybe I’ll get lucky and you’ll do something naughty for me anyway. FLYBOY2: Don’t bet on it. I know I just had a very dirty discussion with you, but I’m slowly coming back to my senses. FLYBOY1: That’s a shame. You do dirty very well. Then an entirely new question hit her, the thought almost paralyzing her. FLYBOY2: Do you do this often? Watch women this way? Other people who come here? She wasn’t sure why the notion upset her so much, but it did. Maybe it made her feel less consequential to him than she wanted to—even if she didn’t know him at all. FLYBOY1: No, I