Chapter Two

Correspondence continued.  And, there was another indiscretion by a celebrity.

And, Jill said:

“See, I told you.  It is nobody’s business what she did and it is all over.  What if I want to get drunk in public?  What if I want to go to see some male strippers?  What if I want to buy a vibrator?  I can’t risk it.”

“Now, there’s a good question.  How do you celebrities purchase vibrators?”

“By mail.  And I don’t even trust that.”

“No wonder you’re so frustrated.  Do you need me to send you a vibrator?  I will you know.”

“I know you would you dear friend.  And that’s my point.  You can go somewhere and buy a vibrator and never worry about somebody finding out about it.  I can’t do that.  By the way, have you ever actually bought a vibrator?”

“More than one.  I had this friend who enjoyed them and I enjoyed her enjoying them and, well, we ended up with quiet a collection.”

“A collection?  I have this vision of a display cabinet.  Are there enough differences out there to have a collection?”

“Oh, please, don’t play with me.  You’re a woman of the world.  You have access to the internet.  You know what’s out there.”

“You forget.  I don’t trust the internet.  Besides I want to hear about your collection.  By the way, I’m jealous of this other lady.” 

“Our collection eh?  Well, let’s see, she had a couple of your standard, run of the mill vibrators.  You know, hard, flesh colored plastic with a rounded tip and noisy little motors.  I bought her a water-proof one for the shower.  Her favorite, of course, was ‘the beaver.’  I paid a lot of money for a remote control vibrator.  That was fun.  And there were a couple of others that, well, I don’t want to embarrass you . . .

“And, you have nothing to be jealous about.  She has moved on to better things.”

“Oh my God!  Remote control?  Tell me about that.  And what the dickens is ‘the beaver’?  You make me sad.  I thought we were friends that could tell each other anything.  I want hear about the ones you think would embarrass me.  Do you miss her?”

“Yeah, I miss her.  I know she’s happier and better off where she is.  And yeah, I really miss the great sex, but so it goes.

“Okay, the remote control is just what it sounds like, six inches of vibrating plastic that she could . . . hmm . . . insert.  It could be turned on and off by a little wireless remote that looked like a remote entry for a car.  We’d go out and I’d get to carry the switch.  I just had to make sure she wasn’t sitting in a wooden chair close to other people or you’d hear it.

“The beaver.  You’ve really never heard of the beaver?  She loved the beaver.  The … hmm … insertable part was a little bigger than her others and full of beads.  It would rotate in a corkscrew motion.  At the base was a little beaver with a flexible tongue that was, evidently, well positioned to vibrate in a really nice spot.  The beaver’s tail curved and dropped down to stimulate . . . hmmm . . . er . . . well, other parts of the anatomy.”

“Oh God! Now, the remote sounds dangerous.  I’d have to trust the person with the switch.  The beaver sounds amazing.  You might not even need a man with that one.  What’s with all the hmms and ers?  Are you getting shy on me?  I want details.  And what about the ones you said would embarrass me?”

“I guess I am getting shy.  Besides, maybe it’s not you that would be embarrassed, but me.”

“Oh, please.  Remember we are secret and special friends.  And, these emails take too long to go back and forth.  Tell me about the others.  Tell me!  Tell me!  Tell me!”

“Okay.  Damn.  It’s not that big of a deal.  Let’s see, we had some vibrating eggs.  She had a double sided vibrator.  We had these neat little soft thingies, about the size of a finger with a cup at the back where the vibrating eggs fit, well, you know, stimulate things.  We had some beads.”

“Okay, I’ve seen a vibrating egg, but what soft little finger thingies.  That’s new.  Double sided?  Did you ...?   Beads?  Are those what I think they are?  You’re still being shy.”

“Me shy?  I’m telling you all about my kinky love affair.  What about your kinkiness?  Yeah, the beads are probably what you think, they go the same place those soft little rubber finger thingies go.  And NO, I did not put the double sided vibrator there.  Too big for me.”

“Ha. Ha.  I was wondering about that double sided one.  So, how did you enjoy it?  My kinkiness?  You forget I cannot risk kinkiness.  Wish I could.  By the way, I casually mentioned at a party the other night that someone could benefit from the beaver.  I guess I’m the one out of touch.  The person I was talking to knew what I was talking about immediately.  She broke up laughing and agreed whole heartedly.”

“The beaver is famous.  Attached is a picture. I did get to watch the double sided one put to good use.  And I thought the whole point of our secret communication computer was so you get tell me about your kinkiness.  Maybe you can’t indulge, but you can tell me what you’re thinking.  You said you wish you could indulge. What is it you would want to indulge in?  Tell me.  It’s only fair.”

“Wow.  The beaver looks scary.  I want to hear about that double sided thing.  I don’t know what I would want to indulge in.  The frustrating point is that I couldn’t even if I wanted.  The tabloids could write an expose on how inexperienced I am in reality.  You want to hear something sad?  I worry about giving a boyfriend a blow-job.  If it’s not pretty much straight, missionary, sex, I worry about getting talked and written about.”

“That is sad.”

“And these damn emails drive me nuts.  You get me excited and I have to wait a day to hear more.”

“We could set up a secure chat on the computer if you want.”

“How?”

(Maq says:  I did what was necessary to get us a chat channel that is encrypted and secure and sent her instructions.  We made a date for a chat.  What follows is our first chat.  Again, for readability, I’m going to just set it up like a conversation.)

“Jill to Maq, Jill to Maq. Come in.”

“Hi.”

“Now, this is nice.  How are you doing?”

“Fine, and you?”

(Maq says:  Question:  Why didn’t we just talk on the phone?  We did eventually.  I sensed that she was enjoying the feeling of anonymity of computer correspondence.  Our talk had become more and more risqué.  Being the male slug I am, I was interested in how risqué it might become.  I expected that the computer would allow the most freedom.  It has for others.)

(Jill says:  He’s right.)

So, we chatted and eventually Jill said, ”So, about you enjoying that double sided toy . . .”

“Ah, yes.  We set up this chat so you could get titillated by hearing about my sex life.”

“I’m glad you remember, so, titillate me.”

“Not much to say.  Yes, I got to watch her use the double sided with her best friend.  Everyone had a good time.”

“I bet.  See, can you imagine the tabloids if I did that and somebody talked?”

“Well, I guess you and your best friend would just have to keep quiet about it.”

“Ha. Ha. I have no friends that close.  They would have to be really close friends, wouldn’t they?”

“Yep.  In fact I liked it best when they were so close they intertwined.”

“Oh my.  I’m visualizing that now.”

“… and I’m visualizing you with… hm somebody.”

“Ha.  Who?”

“You tell me.  What young starlet do you want to share a double sided vibrator with?”

“You’re terrible.”

“Hey, this getting excited can work both ways.”

“You might be surprised.  You tell me, who would you like to see me with?”

“Oh, is that something you’re actually interested in? I was wondering when you’d start sharing your kinky fantasies.”

“You never know.  I so rarely (never) get to let go, that I might do anything if I had the chance.”

“So.  Who would it be with?”

“I’m blushing.  Let’s see. . . Chloe Spence.  She’s hot.”

(Maq says:  Originally, when we put this together, we just put a line to indicate a famous person’s name that we were editing out, but later we decided to use a fake name.  That’s what we’ll do from now on and we’ll try to give some idea of the person behind the pseudonym.  For instance Chloe is a stand in for a very hot, young, upcoming actor.)

“Yes she is.  Suddenly that visual just got better.”

“Getting you excited?”

“My jeans are getting tighter.  And you?”

“Yes, okay, I’ll say what you want to hear.  My panties are getting wet.”

“Oh, my.  Thinking about doing it with her is making you wet, eh?”

“Thinking about doing anything.  Just thinking about uninhibited opportunities is getting me excited.  Okay?  And, talking to you about it.”

“Okay by me.  Although it is interesting to know that Jill Lane might be a little bi-curious.”

“Jill Lane is sex-curious.  And you’re making me more so.”

“My gift to the studs of Hollywood.”

“Can’t happen.”

“Hey, I hear Carol Hepburn was pretty spontaneous and not restricted to Spencer Tracey--or males, for that matter.”

“Exactly, you’ve ‘heard’ that.  The press didn’t kill her with it like they would me, the jackals.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.  But, have you ever enjoyed a girl?”

There was a long pause.  (Maq says: I thought I’d gone to far.)  (Jill says: I just had to make a decision about us.  I trusted Maq.  I was afraid I would ruin what we had.)

Jill said, “Okay, in the interest of this friendship and the trust we share and the fact that you told me you enjoyed those beads: Yes.  Let’s just say I have always been extremely sexual, which is why I’m now extremely frustrated, and I have played with a girl, back when I wasn’t so paranoid.  Back when I was really young.  Nobody famous.  Nobody you know.”

“hmmm…. I guess I’m speechless.”

“Speechless?”

“Enjoying the visualization even if I don’t recognize her.”

“I guess I could send you her picture.  Help you out and all.”

“Yes. Yes.  You still see her?”

Long pause.  (Jill says:  I was really worried about this one.)

Jill said, “Okay, here’s how much I trust you.  I still see her.  We don’t get together like that.  It’s my cousin.”

“Sproing!”

“Sproing? What’s that mean?”

“It means my jeans just got a lot tighter, thinking about you with a real live person.  And, sure, it’s kind of kinky that it’s your cousin.”

“Oh, good, I’m turning you on.”

“You know you are.”

“It’s only fair.”

“Oh, you’re getting turned on?”

“I told you my panties were getting wet.”

“I know, I just like to hear you say it.  I’m resisting the urge to be a horny net geek and ask you what you’re wearing.”

“Just a silk robe and the panties.  They’re white.  Lacey.  Wet.”

“Oh god.”

“Ha. Ha.  God, this is fun.  You realize I never get to talk to somebody like this.  Never.”

“Not even your cousin?”

“No, not like this.”

“Oh, surely, you’ve told some guy at some time or another that he was making you wet.”

“Yes, of course, but, I don’t know, this is different.  It’s a different context.  Or something.”

“Because I’m a stranger.”

“You are not a stranger.  Sure, the strangeness of our relationship has something to do with it, but the sexual impact is different somehow.”

“Dirtier?  As in sex is dirty if you’re doing it right.”

“Yes, that’s it.  This is kind of naughty.  And, there’s no game playing.  No worry about you selling me out.  It’s just for fun.”

“Sex is best when it’s just for fun.”

“Without worrying about The Enquirer.”

“Yes.  Glad I can be of service.”

There was a pause.

And Maq said: “Uh oh, we’re getting quiet.  Did we overstep some boundary?”

“Of course we did.  But I’m glad.  Even if I can’t indulge in wild, dirty sex, I enjoy talking about it.”

(Maq says:  Thus the inspiration for my story Good Times.)

“It’ll just frustrate you if you don’t get to act on it.”

“Oh, I’ll act on it all right.  I’ll just be alone.”

“hmmmm . . . and what do you plan to do?”

“You know. You just really like to hear about it, don’t you?”
     “Yes.”

“Are you really hard?”

“Yes.”

“Do you intend to do something about it?”
     “Maybe I am doing something about it.”

“Right now?!”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I intend to do the same thing.”

“uh, don’t think you can exactly.”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.”

“I’m laughing.  Yeah, you know how weird this is.”

“It is, but thank you.  You know I’ve gossiped with you, I’ve bitched about things, I’ve told you things I’d never tell anybody.  This is good.  I’m enjoying it.”

“I’m not worried about it.”

“Good. . . . so, what are you doing?”
     “Laugh.  Nothing.  I’ll do that later.”

“uh huh, (is that how you’d spell that?)  And, what will you be thinking about?”

“Well so far, the only thing I have to imagine is you and your cousin.”

“I’m laughing.  Well, just keep in mind.  I’ll be thinking about you and your two women and you and those beads and maybe the beaver all by itself. . . . and, I’ll be fingering myself.”

“Oh my.”

“Now, I’m smiling.  And perhaps that will give you something else to think about.”

“Yes.  I’ll think of you fingering yourself while I stroke my cock.”

“My turn to say: oh, my.  You know I’ve heard that word and I’ve said that word and I’ve read that word, but for some reason when I read what you just wrote. . . . well, sproing.”

“Laugh.  Sproing?  Maybe: gush.”

“So, I have to go.  It’s late out here.”

“Yes.  I know.  Later out here.  We’ll do it again.  And you can tell me what runs through your mind later tonight.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise I will share with you what goes through my mind tonight while I finger my pussy.”

And, she disconnected.