Free In Too Deep by Portia Da Costa

you?
    Pause.
    NEMESIS: And I’ve managed to get you to obey me tonight by engaging in this conversation. When I’ll wager the whole idea of it runs counter to your quiet-living librarian’s good sense.
    LIBRARYGIRL: Who says I’m quiet-living? I could be a raver and have dozens of boyfriends and masses of sex all the time.
    Just how much does he know about me? Has he been spying on me outside the library? Is he a
real
stalker?
    NEMESIS: Well then, I just hope those dozens of men realise exactly how lucky they are. Will you obey me?
    I’m trembling. I’m aching. I’ve never felt this excited. My nipples are so tight and erect they’re almost sore, and my pyjama bottoms are wet through at the crotch, almost as if I’ve peed myself.
    NEMESIS: Will you obey me?
    The repetition reminds me I’m dithering. The remnants of what he quaintly calls my librarian’s good sense are dying embers, ready to be rekindled by a ‘Bring it on!’ But I don’t give in that easily. The defiance of a lifetime doesn’t die in the space of a single online chat.
    LIBRARYGIRL: Yes … but how will you know? If you told me to do something right now, how would you know I’ve done it? It’s not as if I’ve got a webcam.
    Which is, thankfully, true. If I were to see him, and him me, this would disintegrate. It’s the anonymity – or the pretend anonymity if it
is
Daniel – that’s so thrilling.
    NEMESIS: Trust, my dear. I’ll take it on trust. Which puts the onus on
you
not to cheat.
    I close my eyes for a moment and seem to see his, framed by that mask. They’re dark and glittering and playful. I wish I could draw so I could record their dangerous beauty.
    LIBRARYGIRL: I’m not a cheater.
    Ah, but I am one, and I’m such a liar too, considering all that fantasy cheating on my husband.
    NEMESIS: I believe you. Now, what are you wearing?
    I purse my lips. It’s the old, old phone-sex/cybersex ploy and I’m almost disappointed in him. But not quite. Shall I fib? I’m getting so excited and nervous I could explode. I’m like melted toffee boiling over on the stove, and almost literally so between my legs. I decide to compromise. Tell a bit of the truth, but with a bit of misdirection. After all, he’s barely giving me anything from his side of the puzzle.
    LIBRARYGIRL: Silk pyjamas … red. Very slinky.
    Actually, they’re brushed cotton and blue-and-white-striped.
    NEMESIS: Ah, a secret seductress … fond of silk and satin … I was right about you. Imagining the exotica beneath your oh so appropriate attire in the library. You’re making me hard, very hard … but I expect you realise that, don’t you?
    Ah hah, so he’s not quite the mindreader or remote viewer I was so afraid of. I have a small advantage over him, a bargaining chip in the game. We’re
both
fooling around with each other. And I like it.
    LIBRARYGIRL: Well, I was kind of hoping you
were
hard, otherwise there’s not much point to this, is there?
    Silence for a minute.
    NEMESIS: We could just be friends …
    He follows it with a smiley face.
    LIBRARYGIRL: But with extras?
    NEMESIS: LOL Of course … Are you wet?
    I was close to saturated almost before we started.
    LIBRARYGIRL: Yes.
    NEMESIS: Oh yummy! I thought you might be. Tell me how wet. Are you seeping all over your pyjamas? Is your luscious honey running down into the crack of your bottom?
    I let out a moan. I can’t help myself. My juice
is
running down. It’s overflowing my pussy, like the nectar of a flower, brimming and oozing. I move slightly, adjusting the laptop across my thighs, and a trickle slides into the crease between the back of my thigh and my bottom. I’ve never been so wet before in my life.
    LIBRARYGIRL: I’m very wet. There’s a big damp patch in the seat of my pyjamas and it’s trickling down. I can feel it on the insides of my thighs.
    I hesitate only a fraction of a second.
    LIBRARYGIRL: Does that make you even harder?
    In my mind, I hear a soft, very masculine laugh, and the