Free In Too Deep by Portia Da Costa Page A

lips beneath the imagined leather hood curve into a smile that’s half sultry, half menacing.
    NEMESIS: Of course it does. You know it does. And you’re getting above yourself, Ms Sexy Librarian.
    Now that should make me annoyed, indignant. But it doesn’t, it just makes me hotter and more sexualised than ever. My pussy feels pouched, puffy, wide. Needy. I edge my thighs apart, wishing I could shove the laptop aside and just communicate with Nemesis by telepathy, untrammelled by electronics and technology.
    I wish he was here so he could reach down and touch my clit.
    LIBRARYGIRL: What about you? What’s your cock like? Are you big?
    I feel as if I could say anything to him, and yet at the same time I’m actually liking this sense of being under his control. I feel as if my personality is splitting into two, the way his must have done, and the idea of being both real and a fantasy figure makes me feel giddy and lightheaded.
    NEMESIS: And still you push me, Gwendolynne. You’re a very daring and stimulating woman. If I describe my cock to you, I’ll expect you to pay a fair price … do you understand that?
    My heartbeat races again, and I press myself down against the mattress. I’m saturating my pyjamas
and
the sheet now, but I couldn’t care less.
    LIBRARYGIRL: Yes. I do. I understand. That’s fair.
    NEMESIS: Very well then.
    He pauses and I imagine him looking down at his own body, formulating the words to describe it. I wonder if he’s like a lot of men – prone to skewed assessments and exaggeration when it comes to his precious equipment.
    NEMESIS: I’d classify myself as ‘presentable’. Not humungous, but I’m happy with what I’ve got and the way it works. And I love the way it feels when I touch myself and think about you. The way it feels now …
    The vision of Daniel in the washroom floats before me with aching clarity, then somehow gets jumbled with the man in the leather mask. I see Daniel in a leather mask, naked on a bed, working himself furiously, writhing on the very same white silk sheets Nemesis raved about in his letter. And Daniel is more than presentable.
    But one thing doesn’t compute. I’m having trouble combining typing with the grinding, gouging urge to touch myself. How the devil is Nemesis managing?
    LIBRARYGIRL: How can you type and toss yourself off at the same time?
    NEMESIS: LOL.
    LIBRARYGIRL: No, seriously. I’m having trouble here, so you must be as well.
    NEMESIS: Perhaps I’m using voice-activated software. Have you considered that?
    LIBRARYGIRL: You mean like VOIP? Voice chat? Is that what you want?
    The cursor blinks and blinks. Suddenly I don’t want that. Hearing his voice will dissolve the suspense. If it’s Daniel, or someone else I’ve had a face-to-face with in the library, I’ll know them, and this weird game will be over. And not knowing, even if I have my suspicions, is somehow freeing. I know I can say anything to Nemesis while I don’t know who he is, whereas if I
did
know I’d clam up. The magic might disappear, and I might not even
want
to play any more.
    NEMESIS: Perhaps, some day … but not yet. I rather like these little pauses when I can’t touch myself. It cranks up the anticipation, and makes the touches all the more pleasurable when they do occur.
    For a moment, I almost stop thinking about sex, and sense the intimation of something deeper, more profound. A different communication. Synchronous thinking …
    LIBRARYGIRL: Yes! That’s how I feel!
    NEMESIS: Good. I thought you’d understand. But now it’s time for you to pay that price I mentioned. You hadn’t forgotten it, had you?
    LIBRARYGIRL: No. Go ahead. Do your worst.
    Again, I hear that strange, soft, anonymous laughter in my head. It’s a voice but not a voice, yet so real that it’s like the stroke of a feather across the tip of my aching clitoris. My pussy flutters and I squash myself down again while I wait for Nemesis’s ‘price’.
    NEMESIS: Remove your pyjama bottoms. I