1. just another dating app

just another dating app

Lily

"And... submitted."

Lily stared at her computer screen, which had been her sole companion for months on end, watching as the green checkmark appeared to confirm her work had been fully uploaded before reaching out slowly to close the screen. Her eyes blinked a few times as she took in the room without the blue-ish light of her screen reflecting in her gaze, not knowing what to do next. Months of her life—over a year, in fact—had been spent on a single client, and now that her project was done, she was free to take a well-deserved vacation. All she felt—besides a desperate need to use the bathroom—was free.

Never again would she take on such a large project. Three months had become six, and at six, the projected deadline had become nine. The client had been demanding, and while they were satisfied with her work, there always seemed to be something new added to the project as soon as she neared completion. Before she knew it, fourteen months had passed, and as she neared the end, she had held her breath each morning, fearing another e-mail adding more to her workload.

But now it was done, she had a massive check in her bank account, and she was finally free.

Never fucking again.

For the next four weeks, at minimum, she was going to spend her time doing nothing at all. Her laptop would go untouched, she wouldn't be answering any phone calls or e-mails, and she would be free to do as she pleased, whether it be brunch with friends or staying up late watching trashy television. No one had any demand on her time, and she wanted to enjoy her well-deserved break.

Only, as she moved from her desk chair, which now had a permanent indent from where she had sat for days on end, towards her couch, she didn't know what to do. Having every second of her day meticulously planned out with a routine she forced herself to follow for the sake of progress meant she no longer knew the definition of free time, and the question of what to do now felt rather daunting. She didn't have to do anything, of course, but she wanted out of her apartment, to stretch her legs and talk to people face to face rather than through a screen, to maybe have a little fun.

It was a Friday night, so surely one of her friends had to be up to going out. She reached for her cell phone and opened her texts, scrolling through her recent messages, searching for the best person to reach out to.

Except, as she scrolled, all she saw were her friends updating her about the progress of their lives, with new boyfriends and new husbands and even new babies. There were a few wedding invitations she had turned down, those amazing invitations to brunch she had to skip, and when she stared at her contact list...

She was coming up empty. She had no idea who to text first, no idea who would even answer. She had no idea who had grown tired of her constantly turning them down or who would even have the time or desire to go out for a night on the town.

Fourteen months of her life burned away on an insane project that had consumed every waking moment, and what did she have to show for it? Her friends kept on living their lives, and now, she felt left behind and uncertain of what to do next.

Her long-term solution would require sending apology gifts for how she had avoided everyone for months, hoping they would forgive her and be understanding, but in the short term, it likely meant no going out for the evening. While she was a powerhouse alone and could make her own party, she didn't really have the energy. A night in, then, and maybe someone to share it with? She had plenty of old hookups she could reach out to, men who would beg for a second night with her. Surely, one of them would be up for giving her a good time.

Yes, that was the perfect idea. For months, her only companion in bed had either been something powered by batteries or something plugged into the wall. A good fucking would help her work out her frustrations, and in the morning, she could start fresh, reaching out to old friends and making amends.

But a flip through her old dating apps told her much of the same as her text messages. Any who had reached out to her over the long months had either received a snapped response telling them to fuck off or been completely ignored to the point they had given up. Not even Booty Call Ben was still a possibility, and he was about as reliable as her period.

Fuck. No friends, no fuck toys, no one.

She really had been secluded and shut off for months.

For a moment, she considered swiping through and looking for new matches, but she wasn't interested in analyzing every profile down to the minute detail, weeding out the men from the boys. She wanted simple, easy, meant to be—someone who would give her the good time she needed, not a night she was going to regret.

Running a hand through her hair, Lily winced as her fingers connected with greasy roots, a reminder of just how long she had gone without a good spa day. If she had been the sort of woman to color her hair away from its normal black, she would have a full stripe down the middle from months of grow out. She needed a spa day and fast, but in the meantime, an everything shower was long overdue. Maybe spending time taking care of herself, from the roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes, would help her relax a little. She could spend the evening romancing herself, and in the morning, she would resume getting her life back on track.

It took more than a few minutes to dig all her favorite products from underneath the bathroom sink, many of them moved out of the way for the sake of keeping her showers short so she could get back to work quickly. She had been ignoring self-care for the sake of promotion and recognition, and while she had flawlessly accomplished all her goals, she hadn't felt like herself in months. If she did nothing else but resume feeling like the boss bitch she was during her vacation, it would be time well spent.

She needed this. She deserved this.

An hour later, Lily was thoroughly scrubbed, shoved, plucked, and moisturized to the point where she didn't want to wear any of the loungewear she had been existing in for months. She wasn't planning on going anywhere for the evening, but that didn't mean she couldn't dress up for herself. She had been a matching lingerie set with robe kind of girl in her twenties, and something told her to go for it. There was a set of silky pajamas with the tags still on them shoved in her bottom dresser drawer, and as she pulled them on and looked at herself in the mirror, she smiled.

While her plucking and scrubbing and repeated shampooing had done wonders, she knew a spa day was imminent—a full facial, maybe some waxing, a manicure and pedicure, the works. Maybe even a hair treatment to give her dark hair a bit of oomph. It was longer than she normally wore it, preferring to keep her short hair in a cute bob, so a haircut was needed as well.

She didn't look completely like her old self, but after an everything shower, she certainly felt much closer to it than before.

And now, she had an entire evening to open a bottle of wine and watch trash television. That was the perfect sort of evening, with no deadlines or her boss calling or the client emailing her with new changes. No stress. No expectations.

Only, as Lily sat down on her couch with her newly opened bottle of wine in one hand and an empty wineglass in the other, she stared at her phone rather than the television remote. Perhaps she had given up too easily on finding something, or someone, to do. After all, she was a force to be reckoned with, the sort of woman a man would pay to get their hands on, the sort of fuck that made them come begging for more. Surely, someone out there would be interested in helping her pass the evening—and wake up the next morning as well.

Maybe it was time for a new dating app. After all, she had been using the same boring one what felt like ages. She clicked a few to download, not really paying much attention to which ones she chose, then set about pouring herself a glass of wine as she waited. If she was going to have to answer multiple questions about herself while trying to choose the best pictures that showed not only her good features but also her size, then she was going to need a little lubricant.

While she had nothing to be embarrassed about, there was nothing like a man she threw a pity bone recoiling when he realized she wasn't skinny. One of her oldest rules for herself was to always include at least two full-body pictures, one of which showed her with her slenderer friends so they would be adequately prepared. She wasn't going to beg and plead for a man to take a chance on her despite her size. She was a fucking prize, and if body fat was going to scare them off, they didn't deserve a single second of her time or attention.

But that also meant overanalyzing which pictures she chose, and that was going to take some deep scrolling, seeing as how she hadn't left her apartment and socialized in, well, ages .

She might as well just get started if she wanted any success for the night.

The first app she opened immediately greeted her with a big banner announcing itself as the app for booty calls, which immediately turned her off. It was an easy decision to close the app, although she wouldn't uninstall it just yet, in case the others were somehow worse. While she certainly was looking for a late-night romp, the banner alone made her think of people cheating rather than anyone interested in fucking and maybe finding something more along the way.

The second app was one she was pretty sure she had seen before, and after getting through the profile setup, she knew for a fact it was the same one her friend Tracey had used to find her fiancé. There was hope with that kind of statistic to find someone who wasn't a complete player, because in her thirties, she had no time or patience for educating a fuckboy on how to treat a woman, both in and out of bed. The first few she saw all received a quick swipe left, although one did make her pause for a moment, only to join the growing pile of Nos once she had scrolled down his profile to see it was blank.

If they couldn't put in at least five minutes of effort on a dating app profile, there was no way they would be a better substitute for her vibrator.

She kept scrolling and swiping left until her thumb started to ache from the repeated action, telling her that yet another app was a complete bust.

Was there no suitable men left in the city, or was she being too picky?

Closing out of the app, she moved on to the next one on the list, raising her eyebrow slightly at the name. Kis-Meet . She had never heard of it before, but she had also been a social recluse for more than a year, so she wasn't going to count that against it. Opening it up, she began filling in her information, barely glancing at any of the popups and simply following the prompts until her profile was complete. At the very end, she saw a reminder that the app only gave one perfect match.

One? Only one match? Great. She had wasted her time because after scrolling through the previous app, she knew it would take time to find what she was looking for. If this one match was a bust, she was calling it a night; she wasn't insane enough to keep repeating the same actions and expecting different results.

But as she clicked to confirm and her 'perfect' match appeared on the screen, Lily froze.

This was what she was talking about. Where had he been hiding?

The first picture immediately had her wanting more, showing a strong jaw, bright eyes, and a casual smirk on his lips. It wasn't cocky by any means, but she had to guess the confidence he was exuding wasn't false ego. He was wearing a suit that covered all the goods that would normally fill her fantasies, but it was well-fitted and custom-tailored, speaking of money, and she could spy his strong build. The next picture had her licking her lips, already knowing what her answer would be, regardless of what the rest of his profile said.

He was shirtless and pretty. So very pretty.

But rather than his eyes holding her attention, because she did have a thing for eyes, or even his jaw, which would normally have her heart racing, it was his arms.

Those were the sort of arms a man didn't get from the gym. Those were the sort of arms that would have no problem hoisting her up or twisting her into position. And his hands... Those hands were made to be put to good use.

It nearly pained Lily to move on to the next picture, but this one was in black and white, somehow making him even prettier. Was he a model? No, he was too built, too stocky, to be a model, too pretty as well. Maybe an actor of some sort. There was no way he wasn't making money on his good looks.

The final picture was the one that really set it in stone, though. Not that she still questioning whether she was interested, but it was raw , so simple. There was a grin on his face as he looked at the camera, wearing a t-shirt pulled tight around his biceps while fishing on what looked like a pier. The smile was genuine, relaxed, and spoke of the sort of man who wasn't all business. His hair was covered by a backward ballcap, his eyes hidden by a pair of sunglasses, but she could still see his jaw, covered in perfectly rough stubble, and she knew without a doubt that he could take care of her in all the ways she so desperately needed.

He could fuck her good and then force her to relax and take time for herself.

Kis-Meet indeed. This app knew what it was doing with matches.

There wasn't enough wine in her system to prepare her for connecting with her 'perfect' match, but if the guy had even a drop of intelligence in him and agreed to the match, then she wasn't going to keep him waiting.

Filling her wine glass while scrolling to the first picture, Lily studied the face looking back at her, something tickling at the back of her memory. She had seen him somewhere before, and she was pretty sure it wasn't on one of the other apps. This man would have immediately received a swipe right, without question, profile filled out or not. No, she knew him from somewhere else. Not at work, because if she had, she would have been in the office every day instead of working remotely. Somewhere else.

It was his eyes. She tried to place them on another face, but her memory was still drawing a blank. She had seen those eyes before, on another face, somewhere in the distant past. Maybe she had worked with him as a client, or perhaps it was someone from her university days, or—

Like a lightbulb flashing in her brain, it clicked.

Fisk Mayweather.

Holy... shit .

Fisk had always been awkward back in university, always tripping over or bumping into things, like he couldn't control his arms and legs. He had always struggled in class to pay attention, like his head was in a bubble, constantly mumbling for both professors and students to repeat themselves. She had never mocked him like others had, but she had also never given him the time of day. Back then, her only thought had been it was a shame such beautiful eyes belonged to a boy who clearly hadn't grown into his skin yet.

He had certainly grown into himself now. They were only pictures, but she could easily see he was both taller and broader. He was more confident as well, of that she was certain, and now, the gangly boy she had caught staring at her more than once had her heart racing.

One bottle of wine wasn't going to be enough.

Fisk Mayweather...

If she had told herself a decade earlier that he could make her heart race and her silk pajamas stick to her inner thighs, she would have called herself crazy, and yet now, here she was, finger hovering over the option to start a conversation, hoping that whatever he had seen in her over a decade earlier would push him to agree to his perfect match.

Pressing the chat button, Lily stared at the empty conversation window, uncertain of what to say or how to begin. Should she introduce herself again, pretending as though she had no idea who he was, or would it be better to start asking him about his life since they had last seen one another?

But before she could say anything at all, the typing bubbles appeared on his side, saving her from having to come up with any sort of conversation.

Your Perfect Match

You need to clean your fishbowl.

Lily blinked, staring at the message. She needed to clean her... what? Was this some sort of terrible pick-up line? Why would he even mention a fish?

It took her a few more seconds before she flipped back to her profile to look at the pictures she'd shared. In the background of one of them was her friend Ashley's pet fish, who Lily had petsat for a few weeks. The bowl certainly did look dirty in the picture, but given the edges of the picture were darkened, she suspected the filter was more to blame than her lack of care.

Sorry, that was rude of me, but I noticed him in the background of one of your pictures.

Of all the things he could notice, it was a fish in the background of one of the later ones? There was a picture with her cleavage on full display, a picture of her wearing the highest heels and the shortest skirt, a picture of her dressed in full business attire with blood-red lips looking ready to stomp on a man's soul, and it was an absurd selfie with a fish in the background that caught his attention?

Good news. It's not my fish.

She stared at her response, feeling like a complete idiot. Her so-called perfect match with eyes so blue they made her heart race and arms made for picking her up had connected with her, and they were talking about a dirty fishbowl for a fish she didn't even own.

And yet, she had no idea what else to say. The wine wasn't helping, and she clearly hadn't thought any of this hook-up thing through.

But if you're worried about cleaning up dirty things, I'm available for you to get your hands on.

She hit enter without thinking it through and almost immediately cringed. Clearly, the wine was helping, or at least trying to help, but it was doing a terrible job. If she had uttered such words in public, she wouldn't even bother trying to play it off. Instead, she would have walked away, probably straight out of whatever bar she was in, straight to the nearest taxi, because if she had to resort to horny pickup lines, it was time to go to bed.

Why was she so far off her game?

typing..

Staring at the typing bubble, both fascinated and horrified, she waited for him to respond. Should she apologize? Explain herself away?

No, she should stand behind her words instead of admitting defeat. Besides, he was the one who had started their conversation talking about fishbowls .

The typing stopped but nothing came through, and she felt the last drops of her dignity disappear. It was clearly time to walk away—figuratively rather than literally, but she needed to call it quits.

The typing resumed, and she resisted the urge to chew on her bottom lip, an annoying habit she had destroyed when she was younger but had picked up again while working remotely. The wine glass on the table was calling to her, and she reached forward to pick it up and take a swig, trying to prepare herself for whatever awkward response he sent back.

The typing stopped again, however, and she knew she had to try to fix it. After all, she couldn't make the situation any worse.

I've been drinking. Sorry if that wasn't the response you were expecting, but I prefer being honest about who I am and what I want.

It was her best attempt at salvaging the situation, courtesy of the wine, and almost immediately, he responded, sending her the paragraph he had been working on for a while.

Your Perfect Match

You don't recognize me, do you? That's okay. I wouldn't expect you to, since it has been over ten years. I wasn't much to look at back then, not like you. You were beautiful back then, and you're even more beautiful now, not that I'm surprised. Unbelievably beautiful. I recognized you the second your picture showed up and couldn't believe my luck. It's like this app pulled my perfect match straight from my fantasies. I would love to get my hands on you, in any way you ask for, but only once you realize who I am. It wouldn't be fair to you to start this under false pretenses. And I'm sorry about the fishbowl comment, but it was either that or telling you how I would love to smudge that perfect lipstick of yours.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she stared at his message. His eyes had often been trained on her during class, seemingly the only thing he could focus on, so it wasn't a surprise that he would have thought her beautiful, but the Fisk she knew from their twenties would have never been so forward.

She liked it. She liked it a lot.

She had always been a woman who said what she wanted, and it seemed he was more than capable of doing the same.

Only now, she had no idea how to even respond.

The wine was decidedly silent as she started to type, his side of the chat sitting quiet.

I knew who you were immediately, Fisk Mayweather. Eyes like yours aren't exactly something you forget, even if, as you said, the rest of you wasn't much. You grew up well, grew into yourself. A mid-twenties growth spurt, I guess, which clearly gave you a burst of confidence as well. I appreciate that you wanted to make sure I knew who you were before we started talking, but I'm interested. After all, this app does claim to find your 'perfect match'. I'm curious to know what that means. You definitely fit my physical desires, and while good looks aren't everything, you really did grow up well. I'll admit, it took me by surprise when I realized who you were. Because…wow.

It only took a few seconds for her to get another response.

Yeah, you can call it a growth spurt, but unfortunately, I don't think we'll be able to take this conversation down the road you wanted. Not if you've been drinking.

Lily pouted, annoyed at him being responsible or something like that. So what if she'd been drinking? It was only a few... Well, no. A glance at the bottle told her it was almost empty, and she had been drinking on an empty stomach. She was more than able to keep flirting and texting about his hands on her. They didn't have to do anything tonight, even if she was more than ready to head over and skip the flirtations.

Your Perfect Match

If you still feel the same way in the morning, we can resume this conversation and see where it goes from there.

Letting out a sigh, she shifted on the couch to try and get comfortable while attempting to ignore the throbbing between her thighs.

And what am I supposed to do tonight?

He responded almost immediately, with two messages that sounded more like instructions than suggestions.

Drink some water.

And delete any other dating profiles you've made and stop messaging anyone else you've matched with. I'm your perfect match, remember? You won't find anyone who can satisfy you like I can.

She felt more like her bratty self than ever as she smirked, amused by his message. Downloading dating apps had been about finding a booty call, not about finding her perfect match , and if he wasn't going to take care of her, then she was well within her rights to keep messaging anyone she wanted—not that there was anyone else.

What makes you think I'm messaging anyone else?

She waited impatiently for his answer, which took far too long for her liking.

You're a beautiful woman, Lily Durham. You likely have hundreds of matches by now, but none of them compare to me.

Right. Hundreds of matches. If only that was her problem.

Had men swiped right on her? Probably a few, but she hadn't found a single one worth spending any time on, not until him. He didn't need to know that, of course, but something in the back of her mind, probably the wine, told her to tell him that.

You're the only one I'm talking to, the only one worth matching. I ended up on this app because the others had no one worth swiping right on. And now, here I am. You have my undivided attention.

It felt vulnerable to admit it, to admit that she, goddess she was, was only texting one guy at the moment. In the past, she always had several hookups she could easily crook a finger towards and get what she wanted. Now, however, she was sitting on her couch in her apartment, alone, texting probably the only guy in the city who wouldn't sext with her since she had been drinking.

It was a little pathetic when the facts were laid out like that, and yet, given what the other apps had to offer, he was worlds above anyone else she would have been able to find.

What he was doing on a dating app was entirely beyond her.

The typing icon appeared then disappeared, only to resume a few seconds later. She waited for his response, trying not to hold her breath, until the icon disappeared for a second time and she was left waiting with no reply.

The window sat blank for so long, Lily wondered if he had closed the app entirely, but the typing icon appeared for a third time, and he finally responded.

Your Perfect Match

Out of all the dating apps out there, you didn't find anyone else worth matching? Dare I ask, if this app gave more than one match, would you have swiped right on me?

She knew the answer to that without thought, but she took a moment to flip back to his profile, which she hadn't looked at beyond his pictures. After all, she only had one match, so the question hadn't been whether to move on to the next option, but instead whether she wanted to take a chance on her only choice. His profile was filled out, answering all the questions with complete sentences and no spelling errors. No red flags popped up with any of the answers, at least not on her brief scan, and it only confirmed her initial answer.

Yes. She would have swiped right on him.

Yes. And for more reasons than just your good looks.

His response was almost immediate.

Oh?

Was he fishing for compliments, or was he genuinely curious?

I'm not saying I'm desperate, but my standards are relatively high, and I expect a potential match to put in at least some effort with their profile. You had multiple pictures, answered all the questions and prompts, used complete sentences, and had no red flags. Furthermore, as soon as I recognized you, let's just say I was curious.

You? Desperate? Impossible.

Curious about what?

Like I said, you grew up well, grew into yourself. You clearly exude a newfound confidence, and I'm interested in seeing what else has changed about you in the past decade.

The better question is, would you have swiped right on me?

She expected to see the typing icon appear, but instead, the screen remained blank, her question unanswered.

Was he considering the question like she had, going back to look at her profile and questioning if, given other choices, he would have connected with her? Or, was he preparing to write a brutally honest answer that would take a stab at her confidence?

She tapped her nails on the back of her phone, waiting, telling herself it was a perfectly reasonable question, one he had asked her first, but the longer she stared at the blank screen, the more nervous she became. She wasn't going to take it back, nor would she say anything else until he answered.

She had all night, after all. He would answer eventually, or...

Just as she began to consider the possibility that he wouldn't answer, the typing icon popped up, followed by his response.

Your Perfect Match

In an instant. This is a conversation for another time, maybe after I've proven I can satisfy you in ways no one else can, but I've always wanted to shoot my shot with you.

A noise escaped the back of her throat as she stared at his answer. She remembered how he stared at her during their shared classes, but she was one of the few who always dressed up and put on a full face of makeup to go to class, and she always commanded the attention of every room she entered. He wasn't the only one who had stared at her. But to admit he had always wanted to pursue her?

She never would have given him the time of day a decade earlier, but now, she was desperate for every response.

Are you drinking your water like a good girl?

Lily's stomach flipped as another noise escaped her, her gaze lingering on Fisk Mayweather calling her a good girl. She was certainly not a good girl, had always considered herself more of a brat, but right now, she liked it.

And she desperately wanted to hear him say it.

She couldn't imagine the mumbling boy she remembered saying those words, which made her ache even more to move past the app and onto a different communication platform, maybe one with voice notes and picture capability. The silk pajamas deserved to be shown off, and maybe if they moved to another platform, she could start teasing him with naughty pictures and get the conversation back onto what he could do with his hands, or even start planning when .

It took her a few more seconds to realize she hadn't yet answered, and the bratty part of her brain wanted to answer No Daddy . Instead, she forced herself to climb off the couch and find an empty glass to fill with water. She had an idea of how to move the conversation forward, and she wanted to be prepared.

If you add me on Snapchat, I'll send a picture proving it.

He began typing again, only for the icon to disappear, giving her just enough time to switch to her camera app to check her reflection. Her face was bare, but with the right filter and some good positioning, she could take a good picture from her lips to unbound cleavage while holding the half-filled water glass in front of her.

His response came before she had the right angle, however, and she switched back to the Kis-Meet app, ready to add him.

Your Perfect Match

If I did that, you would send me a picture I couldn't resist, and I'm already desperate enough to get my hands on you.

Lily chewed on her bottom lip, wanting to push a little harder but also wanting to respect his boundaries.

Perhaps... Well, she did have a whole month and change off from work. It wasn't like she was on a deadline.

Even if she was horny and desperate.

I'm drinking water, but that doesn't solve my current problem.

And what problem is that?

Did he know what she was about to say? Could he even guess? Was he asking so she would spell it out, or did he genuinely have no clue?

I'm all by myself, and I can't stop thinking about your hands...

She held her breath, waiting for his response, hoping he would take the bait and allow her to spell it out even further.

You'll have to be patient. We're not heading down this road while your inhibitions are down. If you're still interested in the morning, however, are you free tomorrow?

She was free for him whenever he was interested in meeting up, but before she could respond, he was sending another message.

Wait, not tomorrow. You have me distracted, and I forgot where I was. I won't be back in the city until the middle of next week. When are you free?

The middle of next week? How was she supposed to wait that long? That wasn't going to work.

You'd make me wait multiple days? Really?

And where are you, if I may ask?

She hadn't actually meant to ask him the second question, but curiosity and the wine had gotten the better of her, and she took a few gulps of her water while waiting for his answer.

I would rather have you beside me right now. Or better yet, underneath or over me.

If there had been any water in her mouth when she read his message, she would have choked on it.

Both sound good.

He was typing again, but she was distracted by the thought of being on top of him and flicked back to look at his pictures again, her gaze going lower. She hadn't really looked at anything below his arms in the picture of him fishing, but it was a full body shot, and she could see his legs underneath his shorts, his thick thighs. She certainly wouldn't crush him if she was on top, although now, she wanted to feel him fucking her into a mattress while he pinned her down with his massive hands, her legs spread on either side of his shoulders.

I'm at my house on the coast for the weekend, taking a long break from work.

You're a temptress. Drink more water. Sober up for me.

She did as instructed, draining the rest of the glass before refilling it, this time almost to the top. While he couldn't see that she was following his instructions, she was going to do it all the same, partially because the thought of him had her mouth dry, but mostly because she had the overwhelming urge to earn the good girl title.

She considered what to say next, but the typing icon appeared once more, and she took a few more swallows of her water while she waited. A crazy idea had popped into the back of her mind, but she wasn't so desperate as to mention it to him. It would take her from needy and willing to pathetic, and she wasn't at that point yet.

She had survived months with only a vibrator to keep her satisfied. She could last another few days if that was the only option.

Your Perfect Match

Are you busy this weekend? I know this sounds crazy, but would you want to join me?

She sucked in a gasp, the immediate yes escaping her lips. Was it crazy? A little bit. And maybe in the morning, she would reconsider it.

But she was horny, and he was apparently her perfect match.

And it wasn't like she had anything better to do.

Interestingly enough, I'm very free. I just wrapped up a project at work and have a few days of vacation ahead of me. I guess I could spend them with you at the beach.

She was trying to play coy, even if she suspected he knew the truth behind her words.

I have no expectations of you if you get here and change your mind. There's a pool, a private beach, and plenty of space. We can spend the time getting to know one another and move on from there.

Apparently, she had played coy a little too well.

And if I wanted to spend the weekend both over and under you?

Yes.

That was all he said, and she watched the typing icon appear and disappear once more, making her giggle. His response had come almost immediately, but now, he was clearly trying to come up with something more to say.

You're a bit of a brat. I would enjoy making you behave.

Lily laughed to herself, but the thought of him trying to make her behave had her knees weak, and she knew without a doubt she would be unable to sleep without getting herself off at least once. She was filled with pent-up desire and need, and now that she had the anticipation of spending a whole weekend with him, she was struggling to calm her racing heart.

Was she crazy? Was this actually crazy, to agree to spend the whole weekend with a stranger at his beach house a few hours away?

Yes, she was a little crazy, but he wasn't a complete stranger, even if she hadn't seen him in years. Even at his most awkward, he had never given her creepy vibes, and the app did promise a perfect match. If he was going to be the perfect match, she would need to take him out for a long test drive.

I think you would enjoy trying, but I doubt you could succeed.

I guess we'll find out tomorrow.

Lily smirked to herself as she left her glass of water behind while heading towards her bedroom, knowing exactly what she needed to do next. First, she needed to pack a bag for a weekend at the beach, and then, she needed to get herself off, both so she could find a bit of relief and so she could fall asleep.

Your Perfect Match

You should get some sleep. When you wake up, you'll have a number. Call it, and my driver will come pick you up and bring you straight to me.

She paused while picking up her overnight bag, rereading his message. He would send his driver for her? He said that so casually, like having a driver was a perfectly normal thing, and she considered for a moment if this was a dangerous idea. It was one thing to get herself there, and another thing entirely to have him in control of her transportation.

Wait, his driver. He had a driver? That was...

Your driver? You have a driver? Like a personal one?

I guess you didn't read my entire profile. Yes, I have a driver. Is that alright with you?

She flipped back to his profile quickly, running her eyes over all his answers. Down at the bottom, she saw what she was looking for: his profession. She knew he worked in the business world, as they had shared classes, but everyone she knew used a car service, not their own driver.

He ran his own company. His own shipping company.

He had money .

And he wanted her .

Yes, that's alright with me. But I can't go to bed just yet.

And why not?

For just a moment, she considered telling him all her plans, but something told her to ease into it.

Well, the first and most pressing matter is packing a bag, unless you want me to spend the entire weekend naked.

That would be your choice, but perhaps you should pack a few things, just in case.

What else do you need to do before bed?

She wasn't going to answer that question just yet. She wanted to make him wait and wonder so when she finally revealed the rest of her plans, he would be anticipating it as much as she was.

Want to help me choose what to pack? I can send you pictures, and you can say yes or no.

You seem to enjoy torturing me. I remember how beautiful you were in school, and you've only grown more perfect with time. Waiting until tomorrow is painful enough. Don't tempt me any further.

Yes or no?

She watched as the typing icon appeared then disappeared, telling her he had typed an answer he then regretted. She held her breath, hoping he would say yes, but prepared herself to see the typing icon again, revealing he had changed his mind.

It didn't appear.

Yes.

But only the clothes.

Lily, you're killing me over here.

You could always show me how much I'm torturing you.

Minx. Here's my number. Only a picture of the clothes, understood?

She smirked to herself, already knowing what she was going to send. He wanted to see only the clothes? She could do that.

Quickly rushing around her room, she pulled out one of her favorite bathing suits, a black bikini with an underwire that held her breasts up, and tossed it on the bed along with a dark floral beach wrap. A pair of cut-off shorts joined them, followed by a few pairs of lacy underwear, and finally...

She snapped the picture of what she had assembled and sent it before returning to the Kis-Meet app, ready to inform him what, exactly, he was looking at.

A bathing suit, some clothes for the beach, a change of underwear, and the pajamas I was just wearing. What do you think?

There was no answer, no typing icon, nothing for a solid five minutes, and Lily smirked to herself in delight as she packed up her items in her overnight bag, throwing in a few toiletries as well while she waited for his response. Her pajamas remained on the bed, leaving her completely naked as she packed.

She hadn't yet decided whether she was going to put them back on.

With her outfit for the next day chosen and her overnight bag sitting by her bedroom door, Lily finally returned to her phone, amused to see the typing icon was once again visible. She wondered for a moment whether he had just started or if she was going to receive another paragraph, but she didn't have to wonder for long.

Your Perfect Match

I can't even call you a brat, because I walked right into that one. Pack all of it, including the pajamas, and climb into bed. You need your rest. I plan to keep you exhausted all weekend.

He wanted her to pack her pajamas and climb into bed naked... It looked as though he had already accepted what she was going to do next.

What was the other thing you needed to do before bed?

I think you already know.

Tell me.

Wouldn't you rather I show you?

No.

His response had come almost immediately after her question, leaving her to wonder if she had pushed too hard or if he was struggling to maintain the boundary he had set earlier.

No pictures. The first time I see you like that, I want you in front of me, where I can reach out and touch you.

She shivered as she imagined him standing in front of her, able to reach out and touch her. What would he do first? Would he only touch her? Kiss her immediately? Tell her to give a little spin? Would he tell her to undress herself, or would he do it himself?

Would he even have the courage to be so bold? The smirk in one of his pictures made her think yes , but the memory of the shy boy he had been years earlier lingered as well.

No pictures then.

The anticipation that had been building since she first saw his picture was now overflowing, and she needed some sort of release immediately .

Tell me, Lily. Tell me what you're doing.

Smirking, she reached over to her bedside table to pull out her favorite vibrator, her old reliable, and climbed into bed, settling underneath the blankets and getting comfortable. She was a little nervous as she lifted her phone to answer him, something about this feeling new and different. It wasn't her first time sexting a guy, but normally, she was doing so while sitting on her couch in old sweatpants eating chips, not actually doing what she said she was.

I'm in bed. Naked, of course. And I have my favorite vibrator with me. No fancy parts to it, just good and reliable.

Only one. The next time you come will be on my fingers.

She didn't need foreplay to relax after instructions like that. She had been ready to go for hours, her underwear having been thoroughly soaked when she took them off and tossed them in the laundry basket. The hand holding her vibrator slipped underneath the blankets, and she pressed the bottom button to turn it on but didn't touch any others to increase the speed or set a rhythm. There was no doubt that she was going to get off, and while she was aching for release, she didn't want it to be too fast.

She wanted to know what else he would say and what sort of reaction her body would have to it.

Your fingers?

So I can taste and make you beg for more.

Her sharp intake was a response to both his message and the vibrations as she pressed the head against her clit, her body tensing at the familiar sensation. It had been so long since she orgasmed with something other than vibrations, she wasn't even sure if she could still do it.

It took all her mental energy to type out a message, using only one hand while the other tried to get the vibrator into the right position so it would stay balanced and get her off, but she managed to do it, all while imagining begging him to give her more delicious orgasms.

Make me beg on my knees with your hand around my throat.

There was no typing icon, no response, but there was only a second of pride before she felt herself growing closer to her orgasm. She had been on edge all evening as it was, but just imagining him, imagining being on her knees for him with his hand, sticky with her cum, wrapped around her throat... If he didn't live up to her expectations, she was going to cut off all men for the rest of her life, but somehow, she just knew he would blow them all out of the water.

She thought about his hands and fingers all over her, his shoulders forcing her legs apart, his thighs as well, and—

Two messages popped up on the screen, and she forced herself to focus to read them.

Your Perfect Match

I'll hold you by your throat as I pin you to the bed and fuck you through another two orgasms. You'll beg for them, then beg me to stop when you think you've had too many.

You're my fantasy come true, and I'm going to wreck you so you never want to leave.

His words sent her straight over the edge, her eyes rolling back in her head as her legs clenched around the vibrator and her cunt clenched around nothing. She had never felt so empty before, the ache nearly painful, and she rolled onto her side as the aftershocks pulsed through her, unable to reach under the blankets to free herself while her legs were still tensed around the vibrations.

It was the easiest orgasm of her life, with no buildup, no physical teasing, not even romancing herself or touching her breasts, and now, she was desperate for more.

You're not even here, but I can imagine you screaming my name as you come, your gasps for air as I keep going.

Going to be a long night waiting for you, but I know you're worth it.

Fuck. Normally after a good orgasm, whatever desire she had for a man would fade away, but instead, she was now desperate for more. She needed his fingers and his mouth and his cock. She needed his touch all over her, enveloping her.

She needed to know what he could do to her.

Only one, as instructed, but I want more.

I don't know how I'm going to sleep when I feel so empty right now.

Are you breathless? I can't wait to hear the pretty little noises I pull out of you.

Yes. And I don't think I can stand up just yet.

You won't need to walk once you're here. I can take care of that.

She doubted he would be able to carry her everywhere, but she wouldn't mind seeing him try.

Are you still touching yourself to thoughts of me?

He didn't answer for a few seconds, making her think he had just finished. She hadn't really said much, and she would apologize for that, but she had been a little distracted by his words and her need for release.

I was done at the thought of you on your knees, looking up at me with those big hazel eyes and licking your red lips.

She laughed a little to herself as she rolled onto her other side and tossed her vibrator to the floor, unable to find the energy to get up and clean it or herself. She would do so in the morning before she started her journey to the coast, to him.

And you'll get to see it tomorrow. I'll be ready first thing in the morning.

I hope so, but if you change your mind, just know that this alone, just a chance with you, it was more than I ever imagined.

She swallowed hard as she read his message again, remembering once more the shy boy from over a decade earlier. He had confidence now, for sure, but he had always been one to doubt himself. It seemed some things never changed.

He started typing again, the icon staying on the screen for a while. Her eyes were growing heavy, and she knew she should respond, but she wanted to see what he was typing before she sent anything else. She wasn't going to sleep without telling him good night.

Eventually, he stopped typing, but no message came through. It looked like he was waiting for her to respond first.

I'll be there. I want it. I want to know what you can do to me.

His answer was shorter than she would have expected, given how long he had been typing, telling her he must have deleted his original message.

Your Perfect Match

Everything. I'll give you everything.

She really hoped he would.

Go to sleep, and when you wake up, if you're still certain you want this, text me your address. My driver is back in the city and will be awaiting your location. You'll be here with me a few hours later, and we'll see where the weekend takes us. It's in your hands, Lily. You choose the pace and the destination.

If she had to guess, that was the original message he had been typing out, but it was still shorter than she would have expected. She would ask him about it later.

Good night, then. I'll see you in the morning.

Good night.

It took effort to turn off her phone and set it on her side table to charge, and with that done, she flicked off her bedside lamp and rolled back over, still trying to catch her breath and slow her racing heart.

She needed to sleep, and when she woke up...

He was doubting her, doubting that sober Lily—not that she had been drunk—would change her mind.

There was no way in hell she was changing her mind. She wanted him too much, wanted to know more.

She was his fantasy come true... It was a lot to live up to.

But she could rise to that challenge.

And blow his mind.