My heart sped in my chest, urging my fingers to the keys. I typed the words before I thoroughly considered what I was doing and pressed send.
Who said I’m not brave? Tequila shot, please.
I couldn’t justify my excitement. He might not respond. He might be fourteen or a serial killer.Don’t get too excited.I reminded myself again and again, but I never took my own advice. I sorted through another ten emails, not seeing them as I waited for him. A little ping told me I had a new one.
Then why are you trying to fuck strangers off the internet if you are brave and as attractive as you say?
His words stared back at me with accusation. I pressed a few keys, but nothing worthy appeared in my defense. How could I respond? I had scant faith in my attractiveness, but that rarely mattered much when a dude was ready to go.
What kind of creep was he? A normal guy would have asked for a nude, not a verbal defense of my appearance. What was wrong with me, and why did I do this? I stared at the screen with no answers for either of us.
As the week ended, the emails slowed to a trickle. The post became buried so deeply in the feed that very few people still found it, and my fun faded away. My life felt empty as far back as I could recall, but that bit of joy made it feel hollower once it passed. I slipped into my old misery, and I needed to change things before the takeout containers started piling again.
I decided to make a scrapbook of the responses I received. It would be good to have a memento to put my hands on and remember the time I’d been spontaneous and the joy it brought me, no matter how fleeting. It seemed wasteful to leave them forgotten, or worse, delete them. My soulmate was certainly not one of the erections marching through my inbox, but each was special and hilarious in its own way.
The following Saturday, I woke up early; the promise of a project fueling me with preternatural energy. I pulled out the four different printers I owned, disgusted that three were broken, and the last had no ink. I headed to the library to print the pages. It was within easy walking distance, whereas getting a new cartridge would require a bus ride and weekend crowds. All I needed to do was forget about my most recent unfortunate visit.
My neighbors regarded me dubiously as I waved at them. Today would be a good day, and their surly attitudes wouldn’t dampen my optimism. It was beautiful outside, but too hot for early summer. The sun beat down on me and my skin sizzled lightly. By the time I trudged the three blocks, I was sweating. The library air conditioning hit me like a glacial breeze, and I sighed in outright relief. I peeked around, half hoping to see my friend and half disappointed when I didn’t find him there.
My shoes clicked on the tile as I walked beneath the big round skylight and over to the line of ancient computers. I glanced around nervously as I opened my email and pulled up the document I put everything in. The opening page remained blank, so the pictures wouldn’t accost any innocent eyes. Thankfully, the printer here was more modern than the computers, and I could insert my debit card directly, avoiding the embarrassment of another person handling my project.
I held the freshly printed pages to myself, savoring their delicious warmth. By the time I finished, I spent twenty dollars. I probably should have braved the crowds and just bought the ink cartridge. I tucked my papers into a manila folder and debated how I would put my book together. A simple hole punch and binder would suffice, but there were so many more elaborate options.
My head was somewhere else, and God only knows where my eyes were pointed, because I had no warning when I suddenly collided with a wall of a person. The heat of his chest brushed through me the instant we touched, just before I bounced off him and fell to the ground, hitting my butt hard on the tile. “I’m so, so-” I said as I glanced up at the man standing over me.
Tall, short blonde hair that had grown some since I last saw him, handsome like no one I’d ever seen, with green eyes resembling springtime and home. He regarded me with amusement as he looked over me and the contents of my folder scattered over the floor. The last of the penises finished cascading over me, a ceremony sealing my fate.
As if our introduction wasn’t embarrassing and haunting enough, now I sat beneath him in a flurry of dicks. I imagined being beneath him plenty of times since then, and there was always a dick involved, but this wasn’t precisely the picture I had in mind. My brain finished processing the situation we were in and begged for my body to do something: stand up, stop staring, close my mouth. Nothing happened.
He reached out a hand, and I took it after waiting just long enough to make it awkward. He pulled me up to my feet as I focused on fighting off the shiver from the electric current his touch sparked in me. His hands rested on my shoulders, making sure I was steady before he bent down to gather up the papers. People walked past us and I stared down at the floor, unable to face another set of eyes on me.
I regained control of my body and squatted down beside him, picking up the rest. Tears gathered in my eyes, a response to the embarrassment, but mercifully, they didn’t fall. The shock of the whole thing likely kept them inside of me. I couldn’t permit myself a glance at him, and risk fueling my fantasies with more of his disapproving stares.
He handed me the pile he collected, pushing the papers directly into my line of vision.
“Thank you,” I choked out in a small, defeated whisper. I hoped desperately he would leave me here and not prolong my misery, but where was the fun in that?
“Interesting project,” his voice melted over me like caramel, rich and thick. Why did the condescension in his voice speak straight to my pussy? “You thought it was odd I was looking for an old book about birds, but everyone needs a hobby, right?” He chuckled a little, pleased with the vindication implicit in this moment. I stared at the floor carefully, searching for any stragglers.
He picked up one I missed and looked at it longer than was polite or necessary. His eyes traced the lines of an email, clearly reading its contents. I wanted to tell him how rude he was being, but I couldn’t force the words out.
He flipped it around, pointing to the text. Amused shock lit his features so beautifully it made me wet. “I guess you are as attractive as you said. Would you like to go for that shot and explain to me exactly where my email is going to end up?” His eyebrow lifted in a flirtatious challenge.
What the actual fuck?!I screamed internally. I had to have some seriously messed up luck for the guy I’d been crushing on and the only email I answered to be one and the same. I wanted to run away in sheer disbelief of this cosmic joke, but I stayed, finding myself desperate to meet or exceed any challenge he set for me. He laughed at the shocked expression on my face.
“Uh, no, thank you.” The small, hurt part of me blurted out in response to his laughter. The intrigued majority was overridden and would not be accepting his invitation. There wasn’t a single person I’d ever been more embarrassed in front of in my life, and that included getting my first period in school while wearing white pants when I was eleven. I memorized the look on his face for a moment, then ran past him, down the steps of the library, and all the way home for the second time.
I wheezed as I flew down the sidewalk, the hot thick air hard to take in.Running sucks, I reminded myself as I jiggled my key in the lock. The door opened, and the air got thicker.Shit, I need an air conditioner.I threw the folder on the coffee table, then stripped naked and flopped on my scratchy couch. I didn’t deserve the soft comfort of my bed. A few angry tears fell, but I eventually slept.
In my dreams, he stood above me as he did in the library, but instead of leaving my eyes cast down in shame I slipped my curious fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pulled his cock free. I ran my tongue over it, tasting the smooth deliciousness of his skin. Those eyes watched me with the same condescending amusement before they tipped to the ceiling. His face buckled with pleasure. He came down my throat, growling, and twining his fists tightly in my hair. “Your turn.”
I woke up panting and unsatisfied. Pulling a couch cushion over my head, I screamed my frustration. I went to the bathroom and flipped the shower on cold, standing under the stream until I shivered. While it helped with the heat in my apartment, it didn’t touch the burning beneath my skin.
As I walked back into my bedroom, I heard the email notification coming from my computer. A frisson of excitement raced through me. What if it was him? I ignored the lure as long as I could, drying off and getting ready for bed.Who are you kidding? You don’t have self-control.I ran to the computer.
I would like to say I took no pleasure in our meeting today, but I try to consider myself an honest man. When I responded to your ad, I admit I was having some fun. From our rather odd encounter, it seems you were too. I’m intensely curious. I have to know, where will my emails and the dicks of half the city end up?
Oddly enough, the tits and ass are far from your most marketable quality. You provide a goldmine of absurd entertainment. Oh, and your face is pretty great too.
-Able to get the job done right
Pathetic little butterflies filled my stomach as I read his email. I typed out a few responses, but none of them fit. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, and the excitement I felt only a moment before morphed into something dark and hollow. I didn’t have the words to make whatever this was possible. I lusted after him, that much was true, but every time I got near him, I was such a wreck it wasn’t worth the trouble. There must be something seriously wrong with me if being this embarrassed and twisted up left me aching for him.
This had to be a joke. That made more sense to me than him being interested in me. Maybe he was hanging around with his friends and having a laugh. Something deep inside told me this could only lead to more embarrassment and pain if I let it go on long enough. Aversion was the safest option. I deleted the draft, flipped on the TV, and laid on my couch until Monday morning.