Virtual
Lover
They had finally had sex – made love, whatever. It had
been better than he had expected - not that he hadn’t had better, of
course, but this had been quite different, a totally new experience.
George took a drag on his cigarette, savouring that
feeling, before stubbing it out. He asked her what she had thought of
the experience. Corny, he knew, to ask, but he was intrigued by her
reaction. It took her a moment to reply, and George almost thought she
had regretted their little encounter. But then she laughed.
“It was fun,” she said. “I quite enjoyed it, but I
do feel naughty. I’m a good girl really…, I’ve never done anything like
this before. I think I’d better go.”
George spent the rest of that day reliving the experience.
He could still taste her aroma – virtually – the heady, intoxicating
memory of the experience they had just shared. Nothing like the way
it was usually done, he thought amusedly. He recalled when they had
first met, a mere three weeks before.
***
They had met at one of those game clubs that were becoming
so popular. Since he’d discovered it he’d been there regularly, almost
every day during his lunch break. He’d been playing chess. He had won
one game and his opponent had left. He'd been about to quit when she
had suddenly joined him at his table. After the initial formalities
they'd begun to play. Her name, she'd told him, was Claudia. She was
good at the game - she'd kept him thinking – but, she was always at
least two moves ahead and had soon bagged the game.
“Congratulations,” he'd said, “good game.”
“Thanks,” she had moved a pawn, starting a new one.
“Where are you from?”
“Southampton, England.”
George had been impressed - an English lady, not many
of them here in Chicago. Plenty of Arabs and Turks though.
“That’s a long way. Do you play here often?” They'd
both laughed at the question.
“I play here about once a week,” she'd said. There was
something about her he liked. She came across as smart, with a sense
of humour. They had played two more games, which she'd won, and then
she left.
George had thought about Claudia while he was working
the next day. He hadn't been able to quite shake her from his mind.
He had already started using his imagination to picture her naked. He'd
wished he’d asked for her email address or something. He'd sat at his
computer all day, fiddling with various projects he was supposed to
be getting finished, but he kept thinking about the evening. He'd decided
he would go back and look for her again.
Four nights later, Claudia had reappeared. She'd came
straight to his table and had seemed just as pleased to see him as he
was to see her. The games were slower this time as they had chatted
a lot more. She told him a bit about herself. She was married, but her
relationship with her husband was not going too well.
“We’ve talked about divorce several times but it always
comes to nothing and I just keep giving him more chances to reform himself.
He’s not a bad man really.”
George had told her about his work, how he was single
and had thought about her all week. He flirted lightly with her and
she responded good-naturedly. He'd described himself as a ‘charmer’,
‘a lady’s man’, ‘a true romantic’. She'd described herself as lonely
and in need of a friend. George’s heart didn’t often melt but she turned
him to jello. She'd agreed to give him her email address and after she
had gone, George immediately set about composing a letter that would,
he hoped, express his profound delight in her company.
Throughout the following week, Claudia and George had
exchanged letters everyday, sometimes more than once. Writing letters
had helped Claudia to open up. “Dear George,” she wrote, “I’ve missed
beating you at chess this week! Your letters have been a real help to
me. You’ve no idea. I couldn’t come and play yesterday because Anthony
and I had another bad fight on Sunday evening, and it’s taken us this
long to sort it out. But everything is fine again now sweetheart, so
don’t worry.”
George, for his part, had taken great care to give her
the right impression of himself, the one she wanted to have. He didn’t
want to come across as too supercilious, over-confident, which was how
he often came across with women. But Claudia was different. She didn’t
just want to flirt, or have sex, like some did. She seemed to see through
him, to understand that deep down he was also a lonely person, someone
who had always had difficulty expressing his emotions, but whose intentions,
on the whole, had been honourable.
Gradually, under his subtle guidance, their letters
had became more and more sensual, erotic. He had told her how he would
treat her if she were his, how he would romance her, kiss her, touch
her. Her response was unexpectedly promising. She told him how, if she
weren’t already married, she would allow herself to be loved by him.
George lived each day anticipating the next letter,
and then, on Friday, she had agreed to meet him back at the Games Room
again.It had been like playing footsy in a crowded restaurant, tantalising,
exciting. Neither of them had concentrated on the game, just on each
other. She'd won him with her witty banter, surprisingly bold for a
'nice English lady'. He'd responded in his own way and had felt aroused,
stimulated, embarrassed to stand up when he had to go to the john. Maybe
this was love – he wasn’t sure, he had never known true love. He'd run
his fingers through his short black hair and tried to get back in control
of the situation. Who was this woman? Why was she doing this to him?
He was becoming a mess and the whole thing, to tell the truth, was ridiculous.
All he thought about was making love to her.
Even his colleagues at work had noticed the change in
him. He had confided in Rupert, who had thought the whole thing mildly
amusing, and George had regretted it when Rupert kept mockingly asking
if they had ‘made out together, yet?’
And yet it had finally happened, a few nights after
that meeting, they had met again and she had seemed so hot, so in need
of him. “I really want to be with you,” she had said, and from there,
they had both shed their inhibitions. It was a natural progression,
a logical step. He had helped her, encouraged her to remove her clothing,
one thing at a time, and indulged her every fantasy – whatever she wanted
he had provided. He'd surrendered himself to his fantasies also and
kissed her, slowly…her neck, her shoulders.
***
Now George closed his eyes and slipped once more into
the memory, the images, the fantasy. It had been a mutual fantasy, but
they had both taken what they wanted from it. In the past, he hadn’t
expected – hadn’t even wanted – to see his partners again. But he knew
now that he was deeply smitten by Claudia, in love even, yes, if such
a thing were possible. Afterwards, an idea had begun to form in his
mind, the merest chance, a wonder.
“Baby,” he asked, “would you like to meet me?”
“I have met you, sunshine, lots of times.”
“No, I mean, really meet me, in the flesh. I could come
to England…”
“Darling, you know nothing about me…you don’t even know
what I look like, not really…all you have is the way I’ve described
myself to you. I might be ninety, toothless and a hag for all you know!”
She laughed. “I’ve enjoyed being with you, sweetheart, I really have,
but I think we should keep it on the Internet, with the Atlantic between
us, don’t you think? Let’s not spoil the illusion.”
He felt sad afterwards, but he knew she was probably
right. He lit another cigarette and disconnected.
The End
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