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He felt the urge to pull up Emma’s Facebook, but then stopped himself. What was he doing? Becoming some creepy tech stalker? No. He needed to pull himself together. Emma was amazing, and their time together had been outstanding. But the Nost clock had less than one minute left.
Then, a message lit up his screen.
Where are you? she wrote to him on Nost. I...
Then, the app reset, her profile disappeared and the rest of the message was lost.
* * *
Emma watched her phone reconfigure Nost. Mr. X was suddenly gone from the app, and there was no way to find him, no way to continue the message.
“Damn it,” she cursed as she sank into a leather couch near the fountain in the hotel lobby. What was she supposed to do now? She’d searched the bar, the lobby, and had even walked out to the street, but had found no sign of Mr. X. Xavier. That’s all she knew about the man. She had no idea where he lived, how old he was, or what he did for a living other than the vague “work in the tech sector” explanation he’d given her.
Emma could feel a delicious soreness creeping in between her legs. Just moments ago Xavier had filled her up in the most intimate way possible, and now he was gone forever, a ghost, a stranger she might never see again. She couldn’t understand why he’d left so quickly, why he’d bolted. Had she offended him in some way? Had she done something wrong?
Why had he left in such a hurry? She needed to know. She wanted to know. She had to see him again.
Maybe he was a wanted man, she wondered. It would explain a lot, and yet, Emma wouldn’t believe Xavier was a felon. He’d told her about his fiancée betraying him and breaking his heart, but she’d never met a man so clearly petrified of commitment. She’d heard of toxic bachelors, but this was ridiculous. Emma glanced up at the lobby desk manned by a hotel clerk, a young man in his twenties. Emma got up and walked toward him. Maybe she could get answers.
“Hello.” The clerk greeted her with a friendly smile. “May I help you, miss?”
“I was wondering if you could tell me if Xavier booked a room tonight. He had one last night. We were in room...” Emma stopped. What room were they in? 12...something. 1209? 1208? She racked her brain. She knew it was the twelfth floor, but why couldn’t she remember? Granted, she’d been a little busy when Xavier had swept her inside to notice much about the golden numbers on the door. He’d had his mouth on hers, a memory that made her shiver with delight remembering his soft, determined tongue as it gently probed her. She felt her face flush. “Uh, a big suite. On the 12th floor. Maybe 1209?”
The clerk now studied her with suspicion. “There are several suites on the twelfth floor. Your name, miss?”
“Uh, Emma Allaire. But the room wasn’t in my name. It was under Xavier’s.”
“Xavier...?” The clerk paused, waiting for the last name. But Emma didn’t know it. That’s what she needed to find out.
“Yes, Xavier.”
“Xavier...what? His last name, please?”
Emma bit her lip. She realized she was going to get zero information from this clerk. She was sure this hotel had all kinds of privacy rules, and now that she thought about it, it was probably insane to just go asking about hotel guests. Besides, what was she supposed to tell this man? She’d had sex multiple times with a man and she didn’t even know his last name? In fact, she could still feel the wetness of her own come between her legs from him taking in her their very restroom just a hundred feet away.
Emma glanced at the young clerk. No, he wouldn’t understand.
“Never mind. I’ll just call him.” She held up her phone as if somehow Xavier’s number might magically appear on her screen. Emma hustled away from the lobby counter, her face red with embarrassment. Even with a first name, she knew next to nothing about the man who’d made her come harder than anyone ever. Of course, now she knew his first name. Maybe she could find something on Google or Facebook? Maybe if she went home and tried, she might.
Emma rushed out to the dark Chicago night and hailed the first cab she saw, hoping that once she got home she might still be able to find the mystery man.
* * *
The next morning, after a few hours Googling “Xavier” and “tech” Emma came up with absolutely nothing. “Xavier” and “Chicago” yielded thousands of entries, none of whom seemed to fit Mr. X, though she discovered a local Xavier College, an apartment building and one restaurant. None of which were connected to Mr. X in any discernible way.
“This is so frustrating,” Emma complained out loud as she set her coffee mug down on her desk with a little extra force. This was the digital age, after all, where all information was supposed to be a single Google search away. She’d never been in a position where a few clicks of the mouse wouldn’t open up someone’s whole identity.
