The trick to working from home is discipline: getting out of bed on time, eating and taking breaks on time, and stopping work when it's time to stop.
After six months of working from home, I was great at all of that except the last: too often I found myself at my computer at 2:00am, still working on some enhancement or bug.
But coding was my passion. Whether for work or for my multiple open-source projects, I was always fiddling with something. When that wore me down, bombing through forest trails on a battered mountain bike restored me every time.
When a video chat window from Erin popped open at 12:21am it was no surprise. She had the same problem quitting at quitting time I did.
At first the video was blurred motion, moving off to reveal the edge of her desk and empty chair in her apartment lit by the glow of her monitor. In the background, warm light spilled from the door of what I always thought was her bedroom. Erin's voice came faint from the distance.
Obviously, she had started the call by accident. I reached to disconnect when she strolled across the screen, topless. She wore loose pajama shorts and nothing else. From the side, her boob looked round, firm and perfect.
She had her phone to her ear, gesturing as she spoke, the words too faint for the camera's microphone.
Having never seen more than Erin's face and shoulders in video conferences, always in a white dress shirt, I had wondered what the rest of her looked like. Now she was there in high-resolution so vivid it felt like I could stroke a hand across that lovely breast.
Erin then turned, still talking, presenting a frontal view from chin to bellybutton. My heart raced at finally seeing her, and far more than I ever dreamed.
Her body was delicious; fit yet with the enticing curves and stunningly lovely breasts. Captivated, I stared at the breathtaking illicit view.
When she strode out of sight, I checked to make sure her video wasn't being broadcast to the entire company. Thankfully, it was private just to me.
Erin was girl-next-door pretty, notable for her arching eyebrows and constant wry smile that made it seem like she was in on some private joke. When she wore her glasses, she rocked the hot secretary look, though I'd never dare tell her that.
Though longing to see more of her, I forced myself to close the connection, feeling guilty as hell for not disconnecting the moment I realized she had started it by accident.
~~~~
Our employer was a virtual startup: cloud-based with no physical offices. Staff were scattered over three continents, all working from home. It cut major overhead, allowing us to move fast and out-compete most rivals in our niche.
Erin and I collaborated constantly, herding the developers and keeping the million moving pieces of the enterprise in sync. She was no secretary: officially she was senior project coordinator, but we depended on her for client relations, talent searches, proposals and everything else.
Other developers called her 'ma', half in sour derision for her prickly goading to meet deadlines, half in respect for her skill in solving any problem.
"Hey, Carlos? We won the Lode contract."
I was deep in another late-night code-a-thon when Erin appeared in a video window. She never said hello, never made small talk, just got right to it; a trait I deeply appreciated.
"Awesome," I said. "I knew we would. You wrote a brilliant proposal."
She beamed. "No, you wrote it. I only corrected your spelling. And your concept. And the document structure. And your timeline and estimates. Okay, maybe I did write it."
"Har, har," I said. "Just for that, you get to interview the new candidates all by yourself."
"Thank god. Then you won't scare them off."
"You're the scary one. I just make sure they know languages newer than COBOL. A key question for the mouth-breathing fossils you keep dredging up."
Erin gave me the finger. I gave her two in return and we laughed.
"Milestone Three on the Turner project is Wednesday," she said.
"How could I forget? You won't let me. Vijay has to finish his testing and it'll be ready."
Erin scowled. "Dammit, he's late again? I'll call him right now."
"It's three in the morning there. And the kid's terrified of you. I'm keeping him on track. Don't worry."
Erin nodded, and her face softened as she shifted gears.
"By the way," she said, "As of last Thursday, I'm officially single again."
"No way! Congratulations," I said. "I'd lost hope you'd ever give Hysterical Hank the boot. How do you feel?"
"Okay, I guess. Still, it's sad. I had such hopes."
"You were together a long time."
"We'd just been going through the motions for months. But I didn't cling nearly as long as you clung to wasserface."
"Jillian."
"Right. Jill the Pill. She never deserved you. And besides, Hank was good in bed. A girl has needs, you know. Too bad he was so shitty at everything else."
"We should Introduce them," I said. "She was like fucking a pine board, but great at everything else."
"Except staying faithful. Oh, uh... sorry."
I sighed. "It's okay. I accepted it. Still hurts, though."
Erin gave a sympathetic look and blew a kiss.
"Good night, Carlos. Don't stay up until dawn. We have a 9:00am team meeting, remember?"
"Yes, boss," I smirked.
"I'm not your boss. G'night."
I loved our chats. We started out being all business with each other, then over the six months since the founding of the company we became more trusting and casual.
It started simply: Erin would say something like "Hold on. Gotta piss," and leave me staring at her empty screen. Days later I let slip I was sleepy because of an all-night yelling session with my girlfriend. Slowly we opened up about our failing relationships, personal troubles and other no-go topics for co-workers.
We never did small talk. None of the usual "how's the weather where you are," or even "How's it going?" We shifted from work topics to the deeply personal, to joking put-downs, and nothing in between.
Our unspoken rule became to never pry. Just listen, support and suggest. Sometimes Erin seemed flirty, but I chalked that up to her outgoing nature and how much she enjoyed seeing my reaction when she said something outlandish.
It would never have happened in an office. There are lines you don't cross with co-workers. But Erin lived in a different country. With no chance of ever meeting and only talking in private chats somehow made it easier to open up.
~~~~
Two nights later it happened again. Erin's video popped up with a view of her empty apartment. Then in the background she strode into view from her bedroom, this time naked.
Erin glowed like an erotic angel in the warm light spilling from the bedroom. She walked straight toward the camera and my blood ran cold, thinking she caught me but then she stretched for something over her monitor, presenting a mouth-watering close-up of her sexy tummy and trimmed pussy. Erin walked off to one side, then moments later came into view, walking back to the bedroom, with her perfect round ass and long legs exposed to view.
She returned, again talking on her phone as she stood for long minutes centered in the frame, phone to her ear while gesturing and laughing and turning.
I watched transfixed as Erin strutted, turned, and shifted from leg to leg, presenting ever-changing views of her delicious naked form.
When I realized I was rubbing my hardening dick, I snapped out of it and disconnected. Erin was lovely, but it was spying. She was a co-worker and, I felt, a friend.
~~~
The third time it was only 9:40pm. Erin was closer to the camera, dancing to some muffled thumping beat, again completely naked.
My mouth went dry and my dick sprang instantly to life. I had to watch.
Her body from forehead to knees gleamed with sweat as she held her arms high over her bobbing head, stepping, swaying and twisting.
Turning her back to the camera, Erin swayed her hips, punching the air and jiggling her bum to the beat. She turned again, almost face-on to the camera, to run her hands up over her tummy to her sweat-slick boobs, then toss her head back to fan out her damp hair.
The beat sped up, and she kicked and jabbed the air, bobbing her head to the rhythm, breasts bouncing as she gyrated.
No stripper had ever been so erotic. No movie harem girl had ever been more alluring. Erin's wild grace, joy and abandon was so different from the crisp businessperson and even the personal side of her I knew. I yearned to be there with her, dancing naked, sharing in that wild freedom.
Too soon, the music stopped. Erin bent, hands braced on her knees, catching her breath. She walked out of view, then returned with a water bottle, sipping then pouring some into her palm to swab her neck.
She sauntered into her bedroom, hips swaying. When it was clear she wouldn't return, I disconnected.
Burning desire overwhelmed the flicker of shame I felt for spying on her. After that, Erin was all I could think of: her face, her body, and the spirit she showed when she danced.
~~~~
"Carlos, how the hell do you still have a fax machine?"
It was a group call on a Friday afternoon with Walter the founder, the core developers and, of course, Erin. We were bidding on a government project but the department, ever on the cutting edge of technology, only sent and accepted proposals by fax.
"It's not a fax machine," I said. "I have an old multi-function printer/scanner thing that can do fax."
Walter immediately appointed me as the company's official fax resource and to stand by to receive the document.
"When you get it," he said, "can you take it over to Erin? It's marked sensitive. We're not allowed to scan this one, and I don't want to trust a courier."
"Sure," I said. "I'll hop in my private jet and fly to Canada. Be there in three hours. Erin, can I bring you one of my town's famous pizzas while I'm at it?"
Erin said, "Carlos, I live on the East side."
"You do?" I said, shocked. "Your avatar says you're in Toronto."
"It does? That's where I moved from two years ago, but I'm here now."
Walter chimed in. "Oh, that. Our team app sets your location to your computer's time zone unless you tell it different. That caught me the first time, too. For the longest time everyone thought I lived in Bogota."
The team erupted into the usual complaints about the crappy conference software Walter made us use only because our angel investor's pet company produced it.
I tried to keep a neutral expression, but with my face burning and heart thumping, I wondered if Erin could see my elation.
~~~~
Erin shared her address: an ancient brick low-rise apartment building about 20 minutes away. Afternoon cross-town traffic was murder, so I stuck the papers in a bag and took my bike down to street level.
After two blocks, I realized that was a mistake. Summer in the city is like living in a hobo's armpit: hot, humid and stinky. By the time I reached her building, I was soaked through and wobbly as though I'd run a marathon.
Excitement and apprehension grew as I plodded up the creaking stairs. What would Erin be like in real life? Some things I had revealed to her only because I thought we'd never meet. Would we be as comfortable together in person as on video?
When Erin swung open her door, my throat went dry. There she was for real, with every detail of her face revealed: the texture of her skin, the slight blemishes, the curve and color of her lips, her eyes bright and knowing.
Erin scanned me up and down.
"Wow, what I've always dreamed of," she said flatly. "Someone tall, dark, and half-dead from heat exhaustion. Did you run here, Carlos?"
