11. Charlotte

11

CHARLOTTE

A s soon as I’m inside, tossing my keys in the porcelain dish, I go to pour myself another glass of wine as an idea takes shape in my head. I walk down the hall, unbuttoning my work shirt, slipping out of my clothes. I dig around in my upper drawer for a pair of loose cotton sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, my gaze straying again and again to the laptop sitting on my desk by the window.

Nothing about my outfit is sexy, but that doesn’t matter. I’m here alone. No one will bother me. And I can do something that I haven’t done in a very long time?—

I don’t usually watch porn. I’ve been absurdly reliant on one of a few trusty toys I have to get off over the years, when I have been in the mood and frustrated with the incompetence of men to get the job done. And when I do use them, I either look up erotic stories online or just fantasize in my head.

But I want something different tonight. I want to feel different.

Taking a deep breath, I sit down at my desk and open my laptop, taking a big gulp of my wine as I do. I don’t know why this feels so much riskier than any of the times I’ve read erotica or fantasized alone before, but it does. There’s nothing safe or vanilla about the things I want to look up tonight.

At first, I open a fairly well-known porn site, typing in masked man, and then a moment later, sex with a masked man. But after pulling up a few of the videos, it doesn’t give me the feeling I’m looking for.

It all feels so overproduced. Impersonal. It feels like watching actors, and that’s not what I want.

Even with the anonymity, my encounter at Masquerade felt personal. It felt real.

I pull up sites with actual profiles, scrolling through, but nothing feels quite right. And then something pings in the back of my mind, something I remember hearing a few of the guys in one of my computer classes in college talk about. I remember it specifically because, at the time, I was so shocked by it.

It was a chat site, one on the dark web, accessible with a VPN and a decent bit of willingness to explore parts of the Internet that most people either don’t know about or consider better left alone. I remember them talking about finding women to chat with who had dark, kinky fantasies that they were embarrassed to talk about with anyone else. I also remember them laughing and talking about how much better it was than porn.

Isn’t that what I am? A woman discovering dark, kinky fantasies that I’m ashamed to tell anyone about?

I bite my lip, taking another long drink of my wine. I have a VPN on my laptop. Most people I know who are knowledgeable about computers and IT are, even if they never use it for anything remotely out of the ordinary. It’s like a doctor taking vitamins, because they know all the ways that the human body is vulnerable. I’ve just never gone onto any site that might be deemed questionable.

But I’m curious. I’m more than curious—that night awakened a craving in me that I want to explore. And despite my racing heart and apprehensions, I find myself looking for that site that I remember hearing about all those years ago.

It’s less difficult to find than I would have thought. I hesitate as I make a profile, chewing on my lip as I try to decide on a username. I remember the man at Masquerade calling me his little dove , and I find myself smiling a little as I type out CuriousDove24 into the field.

It feels like a little inside joke for myself.

I’m too nervous at first to try to chat with anyone. But there are forums, too, full of posts of users describing fantasies that they’d like to play out. One of them is a description of wanting to be chased by the woods by a man wearing a Jason-style mask, and as I read it, I can feel myself starting to get turned on. I can feel my thighs squeezing together, my breath coming a little faster as I picture exactly that— maybe not the hockey mask, but a different type. A skull, maybe. Chasing me through a dark field, or the woods, knowing that he’s going to catch up to me eventually. That he’s going to make me do whatever he tells me to.

My breath hitches as I navigate over to the link for videos. With every link that I click on, every gulp of wine, I start to feel less and less self-conscious, all my inhibitions floating away on a mist of arousal that makes me feel as if my body is winding tighter and tighter with every moment that passes. I feel warm, achy, needy , like I did that night at the club. A longing for pleasure that I’ve never experienced with anyone that I’ve been with.

And then the chat box pops up, in the lower right-hand corner of my screen.

I hurriedly pause the video that I was watching, snatching my hand away from where it was resting at the very edge of my shorts, on the verge of sliding under them, and peer at the box.

Venom69xxx: I haven’t seen you here before.

My breath hitches again, for an entirely different reason this time, mingled fear and anticipation pooling in my stomach. But that’s exactly the feeling I’m looking for. That feeling of toeing the line, of doing something risky, mixed with the possibility of the pleasure that I didn’t believe existed before this.

I fight back the urge to just close out the windows and run away from the whole thing, knowing that I’ll just end up back here if I do. I want this. I just have to find the courage to reach out and try it.

So, fingers trembling, I reach out and type back the first thing that popped into my head.

CuriousDove24: That’s because this is my first time. ;)

The admission feels vulnerable. And I don’t know if it’s better or worse that there’s a screen between us this time, instead of that vulnerability being in front of a real person, the way it was at Masquerade. At least this time, whatever I say, I don’t have to see this man at all. Whatever his reactions are, I won’t know. And I never have to talk to him again, if I don’t want to.

That feels freeing. It’s enough to keep me going, chasing that high, that feeling of reckless adrenaline mixed with pleasure. I can feel the slick ache between my legs, begging me to do something about it, but I wait, wanting to see what he’ll say next.

Venom69xxx: What are you hoping to find here, dove?

It’s such an honest question that it catches me off guard for a moment. What am I hoping to find here? An audience that won’t judge me, maybe. An outlet for the things I’m thinking and feeling. A way to explore. An easy escape, if it gets to be too much.

But I’m not sure if I’m ready to tell him any of that, yet.

CuriousDove24: I don’t really know. I just know that I want to figure out what it is that I like. I’ve never had the chance before. And I keep having these thoughts…

Those thoughts are rushing through my mind, now. Fantasies of being told what to do, of being chased, of being taken , all by a man with his face hidden, giving me orders from behind that shield.

Venom69xxx: What thoughts are those?

That urge to run hits me again. But instead, I hedge it just a little longer. What will he do to pry it out of me? I wonder, and that feels daring. Like what I want to be.

CuriousDove24: I don’t know if I should say…

Venom69xxx: Isn’t that why you’re here?

CuriousDove24: I hooked up with a man whose name I didn’t know.

Venom69xxx: And that was out of the ordinary for you, I’m guessing?

I stare at the last message for a moment. It felt like such a huge admission for me, but his reaction is a reminder of where I am—the kind of person I’m undoubtedly talking to. This man has probably had plenty of sex with women whose names he didn’t know. An anonymous hookup, to him, probably isn’t worthy of a VPN and an anonymous chat site.

I could discount it as him mocking me. But there’s something about the overall tone of the conversation that makes me think he’s not. That he’s genuinely curious about what has led me here, to this point. And I can’t see the harm in telling him.

After all, it’s not like he has any idea who I am.

Curious Dove 24: Very much so. I’ve always done the three-date thing before even a kiss. And I just got out of a relationship.

Venom69xxx: No better time to explore, I think.

CuriousDove24: That’s what my best friend thought. And now—I think that’s what I’m thinking, too. I want to explore more.

Venom69xxx: What kind of things would you like to explore, dove?

I bite my lip. Now is the time to be honest about what I’m thinking. The time to explore further, if I really want to.

I reach for my wine glass, swallowing the rest of it in one large gulp, and start typing.

CuriousDove24: The man I hooked up with—he wore a mask. I think—I think that turned me on. Not being able to see all of his face. I think I want to do that again. It felt—dangerous. Wrong. Even though he was really very polite about all of it.

Venom69xxx: And you’d like a masked man who was less polite? ;)

A jolt of arousal shoots through me, that hot, tight feeling sweeping over my skin. My hand drifts towards the edge of my shorts again as I swallow hard, reaching out to type with my other hand.

CuriousDove24: I guess you could say I’m—curious. ;)

Venom69xxx: About what, exactly, dove?

CuriousDove24: I don’t know if I’m ready to say all of it, yet. But I think—the man that I hooked up with had a half-mask on. I keep imagining his whole face covered. That the only way I can tell how much I’m pleasing him is by the sounds he makes. By his body language. I picture him waiting for me in my apartment. Sitting on the edge of my bed when I walk in. Telling me what to do from behind the mask ? —

I can feel myself getting wetter, the thin cotton of my sleep shorts clinging to my skin. My teeth dig into my lower lip as I wait for Venom’s response, my hand skating under the edge of my shorts to brush my fingers over the outside of my pussy.

I’m so wet that I can feel it just from that. I suck in a breath, unable to keep myself from going further after that first touch. I dip my fingers in between my folds, tracing my fingertips over my clit, and it’s so swollen and sensitive that it startles me. I’ve never been this turned on when I touched myself before.

Venom69xxx: What would you like him to tell you to do?

Venom69xxx: He’s been thinking about you all day, after all. Distracted and so fucking hard. That’s why he had to sneak in and wait for you. Do you want him to tell you to get on your knees for him? Are you going to give him that pretty mouth, since you made him wait all day?

The moan that slips from my lips startles me. I gasp, my two fingertips moving more insistently, back and forth, rubbing over my swollen clit as that image springs into my head. The man from Masquerade, but with a full mask this time, sitting on the edge of my bed. Waiting for me, waiting to give me orders to make up for how long I’ve kept him waiting.

I’m already close. Usually, it takes exactly the right fantasy and just the right amount of stimulation—always with a toy—to get me there, but I’m on the verge of coming just from my fingers. But I don’t want it to be over yet—and I have a feeling that as soon as I come, I’m going to be too embarrassed to keep talking. My arousal is what’s driving this interaction right now, entirely. I pull my hand away, biting my lip as I type a response.

CuriousDove24: Maybe he tells me to strip for him first. While he’s sitting on the bed, fully clothed and masked. He makes me take everything off, so he can see what he’s waiting for. And then ? —

CuriousDove24: He tells me to get on my knees. To—to undo his jeans and take him out. He’s still fully clothed. I can’t see any skin other than where he’s tugged his shirt up out of the way, and his ? —

CuriousDove24: That’s as far as I got.

I don’t get further than maybe he tells me to strip for him first , before I can’t take not touching myself. I’m too turned on, too close to the edge, and I hit the button for my voice-to-text on my laptop, the added eroticism of describing my fantasy out loud only driving my arousal higher as I push my hand back under my shorts and frantically rub my clit. I’m so close, so very close to what I need—and I can’t stop. I need to come, and other than the night at Masquerade, I can’t remember ever needing to come this badly.

I picture myself being ordered to my knees, staring up at this faceless, masked man while I reach out to undo his jeans, my hand wrapping around his cock as he pulls his shirt up and out of the way, revealing taut, toned skin?—

In my head, it’s tattooed, just like Ivan, ink stretching across his muscled abdomen, the man from Masquerade, and Ivan, and this man on the other side of the computer screen all mingling together into a fantasy that pushes me over the edge, my clit throbbing under my fingertips as my hips buck upwards into my hand and I moan helplessly, gasping as an orgasm stronger than anything I’ve ever given myself before crashes over me.

I don’t want it to stop. I keep stroking my fingers over my clit even as it ebbs, staring at the screen as I wait for Venom to respond, trying to catch my breath.

Venom69xxx: Were you touching yourself while you told me all of that, dove? Did you just come thinking about the man sitting on your bed, telling you to strip and suck his cock?

My breath catches, my brain momentarily shorting out. How did you know? I want to ask, but I realize immediately how foolish that makes me sound. Of course, he knew. I’m on a website designed for exactly that. No one is sitting here and just talking all night, and the fact that I even doubted for a moment that he would know what I was doing tells me just how naive I really am.

Too naive, probably, to be going down this path. But I can’t stop now. Not when I feel like I’m on the verge of uncovering so much more that I never knew I could have.

And, as my brain clears, that other part of me takes over. The more daring part. The part that agreed to the date with Ivan today, the part that flirted a little with this man at the beginning of the conversation. A part of me that I never knew existed before, that can be coy, flirtatious, and teasing.

One that I want to keep exploring.

CuriousDove24: How would I type if I were doing that? ;)

A smile spreads across my lips as I sit back, waiting for his response. This is a site meant for sex, but I want a little flirtation, too. And now I want to see what he’ll say back. If he’s just gotten what he wanted, too, and will disappear.

Venom69xxx: You tell me, dove.

CuriousDove24: Are you going to punish me if I lie?

I feel another flutter of arousal through my stomach as I type it. Is that something I would want, too? I don’t know—but this feels like a way to explore it. A way to test if I would want a man who I lied to about something like that to find out, and punish me. To spank me, maybe, or tie me up and tease me?—

Venom69xxx: Would you like it if I did?

CuriousDove24: I don’t know. I think I might.

Venom69xxx: So tell me the truth, dove, or I’ll have to think of a way to punish you, the next time we talk.

CuriousDove24: You think about that, Venom.

I log off abruptly, my heart racing. The next time we talk. I had expected anyone that I talked to would be a one-off thing, that I wouldn’t run into the same person twice. But he makes it sound like he’s going to be waiting to see that I’ve logged on again.

Like I’ve caught his attention enough that he’s going to be waiting for me .

After feeling like a second thought for so long, that feels heady. The rush of it feels like it could be addictive. I bite my lip as I look at my now-dark laptop screen, feeling more than a little shocked by what I just did. Like that night out with Jaz, it’s beyond anything I’ve ever even thought of doing before.

I get up, leaving my wine glass on the desk as I go to take a shower before bed. Another small rebellion, since Nate was always so particular about having the apartment perfectly clean at all times. But he doesn’t live here any longer. I do. And if I want to leave my wine glass out until the morning, I will.

There’s no one here to tell me what to do any longer.

Not unless I want there to be.