Brett and Valerie had talked about a great many things during night-long IM sessions on-line, and a few long phone calls. They'd met in person, briefly, once -- she an actress in a play he'd attended. Her performance had so moved him he felt compelled to praise her after the show.
He knew she had a boyfriend, but that same night, Brett sent her a friend request on FaceSpace, and she accepted. Their virtual relationship began on the topic of sex toys -- Fleshlights and sex dolls to be precise -- and blossomed from there.
She was remarkably open-minded, and they spoke for hours on-line -- and traded e-mails -- soon telling each other their darkest secrets and desires. She told him about her "back massager," her difficulty in reaching orgasm while with another person, her bi-curiosity, and her preference for anal sex. She claimed that, being Filipino, genetics had cursed her with a small, very tight, vagina, and she found it more comfortable to take a man anally.
Brett opined that her 5'1" stature and petite build -- while still attributable to genetics -- also contributed to her difficulty accepting a man vaginally -- he had, of course, offered to help her work on this.
Val also told him she loved to dance, and directed him to on-line videos of routines she had choreographed herself. One, especially, commanded his attention -- a poorly lit scene featuring Val wearing only a black top and boyshorts. Though in most of the video he could see nothing more than her legs and hands, it fired his imagination.
For months, Brett hounded her to dance for him -- just for him. Of course, she didn't really consider what he desired exactly dancing. She'd deflected each of his requests, saying they could do no more than speak on the phone and on-line, and trade the occasional picture. She would not even consent to meeting for dinner, or a drink.
He -- realizing that at 44-years old, he was twice her age -- tried to remain patient; not forcing the issue, and being content with what he could get. Fate, however, finally gave Brett an opportunity to change this.
One evening, on her way home from school, Valerie had been involved in a motor vehicle accident. She was unhurt, but her car had to be towed away, and needed repairs before it could be driven again. Late that night, as she and Brett talked, Valerie lamented the loss of her car. She revealed that she'd just paid the tuition for her last semester of school, and now lacked money to pay for repairs. Until her next paycheck, she confessed, she had less than $100 in the bank.
"I could loan you the money," he offered, on the phone.
"What do I have to do for it?" she asked.
"Did I say there were conditions?" he returned.
"No," she allowed. "But, I can't just take your money."
"It's a loan, interest free," he said. "Pay me back when you can."
"I can't accept it," she insisted.
"Look, I have it, you need it," he said. "It's OK."
"I feel guilty," she said.
"Why?" he asked.
"I didn't earn it," she said.
He didn't respond for several moments.
"You could," he said, finally.
"I could?" she asked, cautiously. "How?"
"You know what I want, Val," he said.
"I'm not going to fuck you," she said.
She could almost hear disappointment in his silence.
"I'm sorry," she said. "You know I have a boyfriend."
"What about the phone sex?" he asked. "And the pictures?"
"I..." she began. "That's different."
"How?" he asked.
"I don't know," she admitted. "It's not physical."
"What if we got a little physical?" he asked.
"A little physical?" she repeated. "What do you mean?"
"We have discussed a lap dance," he said.
She let out a long sigh.
"Hey, you said you wanted to earn it," he said.
"That's not exactly what I said," she retorted.
"It could be in return for not charging interest on the loan," he suggested.
He waited, sensing she was considering it.
"What would I have to do?" she asked.
"You know what a lap dance is," he said.
"Of course," she said. "But, is that it?"
"Well, I want something a little more specific," he said.
"I'm listening," she said.
He explained his requirements. Again, she thought.
"OK," she said, quietly. "I'll do it."
"The outfit isn't a problem?" he asked.
"No, I have all that stuff," she assured him.
"Good," he said.
"When do you want to do it?" she asked.
"Right now," he said, laughing.
"Surprise, surprise," she said, joining in.
"How 'bout tomorrow night, at my place?" he suggested.
"I have to work until nine," she told him. "But, I can come over after I run home and take a shower."
"You can shower at my place, if you want," he offered. "I won't peek."
"I bet," she said, mocking.
"I won't peek...much," he said.
"It will be safer for me to shower at my house," she said, with a laugh. "I'll text you right before I leave."
The next day dragged on and on. Brett had a difficult time focusing on work as his mind continually turned to Valerie. When 5:00pm finally arrived, he drove home, did some light cleaning, then ate dinner. He watched Jeopardy! -- part of his nightly routine -- but his lust-addled brain couldn't come up with a single correct answer.
