Free Voyeur by Lacey Alexander Page B

Another bout of drunken insanity, that's all. I was DEEPLY appalled AFTERWARD, and that counts for a lot.

    FLYB0Y1: Did you go to Catholic school or
    something?

    Despite herself, she let out a short laugh, half-amused, half-hysterical. RILEY: No. Afraid my conservatism is organic, all me.
    FLYB0Y1: If I were there with you right
    now, do you know what I'd do?

    She drew in her breath and her pussy fluttered, unbidden.

    RILEY: No.

    FLYB0Y1: I'd fuck the conservatism right out of you, honey.

    She didn't type an answer. She had no idea how to respond. Because as much as she real y thought it wise to banish him from her life and forget
    any of this had ever happened, she couldn't deny the hard jolt of arousal coursing its way through her conservative body at reading his words.
    FLYB0Y1: I'd think you were mad at me . . . except you don't LOOK mad. You look . . . excited. In fact, your cheeks are starting to flush, same as when you touch yourself.

    Again, Laura considered her response. She hated being so easy to read. She hated that he could see her and she stil couldn't see him. RILEY: It's so unfair that this stupid camera only works one way. And for your information, I AM mad, at myself. Last night went too far, and it absolutely
    won't happen again.

    FLYB0Y1: What size shoe do you wear?

    She blinked at the screen in utter disbelief. Here they were, discussing shared sexual depravities, and he was taking down sizes?

    RILEY: Why on earth do you want to know?

    FLYBOY1: Humor me.

    RILEY: 7½. But if you do anything stupid like have sexy shoes delivered to me because you want me to walk around naked in them or
    something, I will promptly throw them out into the snow.

    FLYBOY1: You take the fun out of everything. Bra size?

    She sighed. RILEY: None of your business.
    FLYBOY1: 36C?

    She let out yet another irritated harrumph. RILEY: 34, if you must know, but you got the C right.

    FLYB0Y1: Guess I'm a good judge of tits. And yours are beautiful, honey. Only problem with the present I sent you yesterday is that I didn't get
    to see them.

    She rol ed her eyes. RILEY: Poor planning on your part, I suppose . Damn it, why was she letting herself be engaged this way? She was supposed to be putting a stop to this.

    FLYB0Y1: Show me now.

    Laura sucked in her breath as she stared at the screen and tried to keep her expression neutral. No man had ever made her feel so torn between
    her real self and her inner bad girl.

    To her surprise, part of her wanted to unbutton her pajama top right now, wanted to sit typing to him topless. But if she kept on with this, she feared she'd lose some precious part of herself. She'd come close to that last night, she thought—to giving away something she wasn't sure she wanted to
    give. At least not to a man she'd never meet in person.

    RILEY: No. And you know what else? I'm done with this, Braden—REALLY done with it. As of right now, I want nothing more to do with you, got
    it?

    She liked that his next answer took awhile. She liked having surprised him with her anger. And even though she sat in the desk chair, stil aroused,
    stil wanting—that anger was real. Last night had gone too far. She never should have done something so intimate with a stranger, and it had left her feeling ashamed. This had been mysterious and intriguing, and probably the most truly exciting thing she'd ever done— but the horror she'd felt
    last night, coming right on the heels of her orgasm, had made it clear to her that it had to stop.

    FLYB0Y1: Won't work, Laura. You won't turn
    the camera off.

    Arrogant bastard. RILEY: I don't have to turn it off to ignore you. And I'm going to start ignoring you right this instant. I came here to write a book, now I'm going to write it.

    FLYB0Y1: How it's going, the book?

    She didn't answer, instead pul ing up the file she'd been writing in.

    FLYBOY: Is your alter ego busy solving some heinous crime?

    She swal owed, hard, because she found it difficult to ignore