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Stranger88: Well, now I feel like a pervert… which I’m not. For the record.
Stranger7721: So was the delivery girl story a lie?
I smile. She doesn’t forget a thing I said. I wonder if she read over our transcripts the way I have, picking them apart to see if there was anything to read between the lines. Then again, there’s not much to read… yet.
Stranger88: I plead the fifth.
Stranger7721: Ah. So it never really happened. So what would you do to me, if I were your fantasy delivery girl?
There was a delivery girl. Once. Not at Foster and Foster because I’m not that stupid. I was just a nineteen-year-old college freshman working part-time at the university copy center and she delivered our weekly paper order. I liked that she was older, more experienced than me at the time, and that it took me months of flirting to finally get her to take me seriously.
I guess you could say I love a good challenge.
Stranger88: I’d start by offering you a tour of the office, stealing looks at you every time you turn away. Of course, I’d be flirting and dropping hints left and right the whole time, but you’ll be ignoring them because I feel like that’s the kind of woman you are. It’s not a bad thing. I’m just picking up on that from you. You want me to work for you. And I will. By the time we get to the unused cubicles, I’ll be so worked up that I’ll have no choice but to spin around, press you up against the wall, tell you how hot you make me, and kiss you. You’ll melt against me, giving in, knowing you’re about to have the hottest sex of your life with someone who wants nothing more than to fuck you so hard that you forget your own name.
Next, I’d unbutton your blouse as I kissed you, pulling down the cups of your bra and gently running my teeth along your nipples. You’ll moan, but I’ll tell you to be quiet because there are people right in the next row over. And then I’ll turn you around, lift up your skirt, pull your panties to your knees, and lick you.
While you’re pinned against an empty desk, I’m burying my face between your thighs, tasting you until you’re squirming underneath me. I’ll have to give you my hand to bite because you’ll be so close to coming, it’ll be impossible not to make a sound. When it happens, you’ll bite me so hard that I’ll have scars on my hand. A badge of honor to remind me that I found something Stranger7721 likes more than her job.
I have to admit, I got carried away, so when she doesn’t respond for a couple minutes afterwards, I think I’ve lost her again.
But then I get the message:
Stranger7721: That’s… quite the fantasy.
Stranger88: I told you I’ll be worth the wait.
Stranger7721: I’m actually pretty turned on right now.
Stranger88: See, I think there are other things you’d like. You just haven’t experienced them yet.
Stranger7721: Don’t get your hopes up. We still have 88 days and I’m not convinced yet.
I chuff, hardly surprised by her response.
The harder the hunt, the more satisfying the reward.
Stranger88: Challenge accepted.
“Brooksy?”
I look up to find Jace staring at me from my bedroom doorway. Without warning, he sprints across the room and launches himself onto the bed and into my arms. I quickly close out of the app and set my phone down.
“Hey, Bud. What’s up?”
“You said you’d read me a bedtime story forever ago!”
I blink and stare at the clock at my bedside. I guess it has been that long, in kid-hours.
“So I did.” I sit up. “Let’s go. You brush your teeth yet? Let me see.”
He grins wide then sticks his tongue out.
“Not good enough. I still see chocolate in there,” I say.
I lift him onto my shoulder and deposit him on the stool in front of the bathroom mirror, where I oversee a more thorough brushing. I’ve been doing a lot of that overseeing whenever I’m home. It’s not that Ellie’s slacking so much. It’s more that whenever I’m home, Jace attaches to me like Velcro. I barely get a breath when I get through the door because Jace finds me. The kid is like a heat-seeking missile.
I don’t blame him though. Jace never met his dad, and my father—a stereotypical absentee alcoholic—passed away when Jace was just a baby. I’m the closest thing he has to a father, a role I take seriously.
A role that also means that as much as I want to get laid, it’s probably not happening. Not anytime soon. At least not in my own home. For now, the best I can do is come up with hot fantasies, like the one I told Stranger7721.
I know she was blushing. I wish I could’ve been there to see it. To touch her. To do exactly what I said I would and then some. Instead, I’m here, playing dad. And what I didn’t tell her was that I don’t see that changing, even after 88 days.
