Author's Note. As with previous stories, this one may also have evidence of poor grammar or syntax but finding an editor is harder than I thought. Part 2 will follow in a few days. The plot is based on a real story but obviously, names and locations have been changed.
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I opened the fourth beer of the night and clicked to go to the next page. It was already two o'clock and I had to get up early in the morning but I was hardly yawning. I browsed on many kinky profiles but I haven't found anyone to text yet. Since my last two attempts to date vanilla girls had ended in failure, I had concentrated on that website alone. Finally, I was able to find someone who seemed rather interesting. Her nickname was rather stereotypical and she claimed she was a submissive girl of twenty-eight-years of age. I read her profile carefully and it all seemed too good to be true. Then came her photos. Her eyes were not revealed on any of them but she wasn't afraid to show other parts of her body, like her legs or her neckline. I noticed something strange and zoomed on. She had a scar on her neck, probably from a serious burn she had suffered in the past. The scar was not that big but surely someone would notice. There was nothing wrong about the scar itself, except for the fact I was able to recognise the strange woman in a second; it was Emily.
Emily was the heir of the family-owned business I was working for. If it was really her, she was lying about her age as a month ago she had celebrated her thirtieth birthday. When someone met her, her wouldn't see her scar as she used to wear shirts and cover the scar itself with enough makeup to make it undetectable. I didn't like Emily and no co-worker of us did either. Only her secretary was her loyal dog. She lacked the leadership skills to run the company herself; her father had semi-retired and had let her take the wheel. Not only she wasn't able to lead but she didn't have the necessary set of skills to understand the day-to-day operations of the company; she had studied history. We wouldn't have a problem with that if she had detected the problem and had stood aside; thing was, she hadn't. She believed she was the next Steve Jobs and her behaviour had let experienced employees such as department heads to resign as they couldn't stand her involvement and her refusal to listen to reason. I had faced the same problem as well but I wasn't heading my department and I hadn't interacted with her much. People often said that had not Emily been born a Stewart, she wouldn't have been able to work even as a receptionist in the company.
I put aside all those thoughts and decided to send her a message. First thing was to check her identity; she replied within seconds. Obviously, I didn't ask her name; I took things slowly. We engage into an interesting conversation; she was a nice person to talk with. The more we talked, the closer I was to confirm my suspicions about who she was. I asked about the scar; she told me she had gotten it in an accident in her childhood; exactly what Emily had told me when I had caught her applying makeup on men's restroom. She read my own profile as well and found out we were a perfect match; her being a submissive looking for a monogamous relationship and me being a dominant looking for the same thing.
It didn't take long before our talk became more personal and spicy. The computer's clock was indicating it was half past three but my hands were glued to the keyboard. I was getting more excited and probably she was too. After a while, she was calling me Sir and she was in the mood for sexting. My eyelids were now fighting to stay open and my bed was calling me. I ended our conversation prematurely, excusing myself. I promised her to continue tomorrow and I set up a challenge to see how serious she was about to take our game. Since she had informed her she was working a white-collar-job, I told her to wear a black leather skirt and a pair of pumps and to send me a picture the next morning. She happily agreed and I fell asleep on the couch with the laptop lying on the floor.
The next day, I had a ton of things to do and my dentist's appointment made things even worse. I hadn't had a chance to see Emily as I hadn't moved from my desk all day. I did receive a photo of my unknown sexting partner, proof she had followed my wishes and I gave her praise for that; I had no clue though if it was Emily. I completely lost track of time and by the time I finished my tasks, it was way past six o'clock. I had given up on meeting Emily that day and I tried to think alternatives. That being said, sometimes luck strikes us when we don't expect. While I was shutting my computer down, Emily rushed into my office; wearing the same skirt and the same shoes with the woman in the photo.
"You have the white five-door Golf, right?" she said.
"I do," I replied but I was unable to hide my happiness for the fact I had confirmed her identity.
"I may have scratched it," she added apologetically, "I'm so sorry."
"Let's go down to the garage and see what's what," I offered, still with a smirk on my face. She agreed and we walked downstairs in silence. "It's ok, we'll report it to the insurance company but it's just a scratch. When you drive in London you get tens of those."
"I'm really sorry," she apologised again.
"I said it's ok. By the way, it's late and I have a long drive home. You have a good night Emily."
"You too. And thank you," she smiled before climbing on her expensive Audi SUV.
I drove behind her till we got on the open road and we picked different directions; I had forty-four miles to cover to get home so I sat back and put some good music on the stereo. Traffic and road works meant I needed more than an hour to cover the distance. As I walking the few yards from my parking spot to my house, I checked my emails and found out Emily had contacted almost an hour ago; before I even took off my shoes I opened her message.
"Were you satisfied with me today, Sir?" her message read and I instantly replied;
"Of course but you don't even know me, you shouldn't call me Sir."
"I like it. It's part of the game."
I chuckled and opened a beer, "If you insist. How was your day? Were you a good girl?"
"I tried to. I scratched a colleague's car in the garage. Thankfully he didn't make a scene."
