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I don’t find anything political, or her opinions on healthy living and dieting. I don’t discover some dark secrets about childhood trauma or online questions about how to deal with bullies, disrespect, or the like. She isn’t asking about fashion and makeup tips. Her Pinterest boards aren’t loaded with recipes and cute animals, despite her penchant for funny memes and cat videos.
No, Whitney Nelson has other secrets.
Sexy secrets.
Dark, sexy secrets.
It seems, the further I dig, the box hidden in my apartment seems more necessity and less a gag gift from a friend in California.
Whitney Nelson is into kink.
The descriptions she typed out on some of these websites leave me panting and hard as a rock.
“I don’t see anything wrong with a man I trust walking up to me and gripping me by the neck, demanding I drop to my knees and service him for hours. I’m getting wet right now just thinking about my lips being raw from taking care of him until he’s finished with my mouth.”
Yeah, she typed that, and not years ago while in college or while she was younger and trying to figure herself out. The girl I’m infatuated with typed that out less than three months ago in response to another poster who complained about her Dom being too needy.
She goes on to tell the original poster that different aspects of the life aren’t for everyone, and these are things she needs to discuss with him before engaging in scenes.
My jaw is nearly sitting in my lap as I read. She mentions wanting all of these things, but I discover more than one post about how she never gets these things. That the couple of times she tried this stuff with her college boyfriend, he wasn’t really into it, and things didn’t go as planned.
Her friend, Sarah from California—with a little research, I find Sarah is the one to have sent the box—urged her to find the safest clubs in St. Louis, even providing links to websites for her. Whitney declined all of them, even one in Denver called Hale-ish that Sarah agreed to meet her at to set her mind at ease.
It seems Whitney wants all of these things, but she’s too scared to ask for them or has been burned in the past.
She has all of these desires and no outlet for them.
I’m no stranger to kink. You don’t spend nearly your entire life online without discovering just about everything there is to know about different subsets in society. As a horny high school kid, I did a lot of research, finding out quickly I like many of the same things she’s mentioned.
That’s what made things easier about my online hookups. It’s gut-turning to think of meeting someone in public and then when things get bedroom serious, discover people think you’re sick or disgusting. I’ve read horror stories about many people who’ve gone through those types of things, and I never wanted to be one.
Setting things up online with clear and concise parameters has worked for me.
Now the decision is, do I let this play out with Whitney naturally or do I hint at my own?
The timer I set for discovery rings, and even though I want to keep reading, even though I want to dive deeper into her sexual fantasies, I vowed to stop all of it.
I clear the cache in my computer and shut down everything. I’ll no longer watch her workout or check her mail. I’ll no longer try to guess what tasty things she had delivered from Door Dash. It ends today. If I want to build something real with her, I have to allow some things to be a surprise.
When the screens go dark, I immediately feel the loss.
Maybe I’m delusional, but my obsession with her doesn’t seem as bad as it might appear on paper.
I’m stopping now. Everything that happens between us now will be natural, forged through time spent together and in-person discovery.
If only I didn’t have this rock sitting in my stomach telling me that I’ve already gone too far for her to ever trust me.Chapter 12Whitney
“Are you sure you can’t stay?” I give Sarah the biggest puppy dog eyes I can manage as we break our hug in the doorway of my apartment.
“I wish I could.” She wraps her fingers around the handle of her suitcase. “I have that meeting first thing in the morning. We’ll make plans for a longer visit soon.”
She presses a kiss to my cheek before heading to the elevator. Twenty-four hours is all we got together, but I’m beyond grateful for that small amount of time. She’s the best friend a girl could ask for. I mean, how many people can say they’re close enough to someone who will jump on a plane just to make sure you don’t get killed on a first date? Not many, I imagine.
