Chapter 9: Reality, and a Reunion

The next couple of weeks weren't much fun for me (and later, I found out that they weren't much fun for Riley, either.) I missed her -- a lot. My desire to see her, talk to her, touch her was palpable.

At home, I hung a couple of pictures on my fridge -- the "silly face" one from the lobby bar, and the picture of us together on the balcony on the last morning. I put the the other two pictures -- the formal one and the one of Riley kissing my cheek on that last morning -- in frames on my nightstand. I wanted Riley's face to be the last thing I saw each night.

Friends and co-workers asked about my cruise, but in tentative, awkward ways. Most of them knew that I was taking it alone in the aftermath of Lilly's infidelity. They asked shallow, simple questions, about the weather, the ship itself, the food. Except for one person, no one even suggested that I'd sought any female companionship on the Marvel.

However, my friend Rob was the exception. The week before I'd left on the cruise, he'd told me, crudely: "You need to get laid on that ship. Fuck some stranger you'll never see again, that'll be good for you and help you get over Lilly. Hell, fuck two or three strangers you'll never see again. It's what you need."

He and I met for a beer after work at one of our favorite local bars, a week after I got back. I told him about the pools on the ship, the flights down there, the room, etc. But he wasn't interested in all that.

"Man, you sound just like a typical engineer. I don't care about the ship, or the pools. I mean, those are nice and all. But I told you, you needed to get some pussy while you were on vacation, to forget about that bitch and what she did to you. I can't believe you blew such a golden opportunity, man."

I picked up my beer and took a sip, trying to conceal the sudden grin I developed, thinking of Riley. I wasn't quick enough, however -- and Rob caught it.

"Oh, shit -- I saw that!" he exclaimed. "You did fuck someone down in the Caribbean, didn't you?" he said, clapping me on the back.

"Shhhh, Rob," I said. "The whole bar is looking."

"Hell with them, dude. So did you really get your dick wet down there?"

I shrugged. Despite Rob's crude language, he was a loyal friend, and he was trying to help me. In his own, twisted way. Still, I couldn't let him know the real truth of what happened, so I said as little as possible.

"Maybe," I admitted.

"Dude! That's awesome! Good for you! Now, give me all the dirty details!"

"Oh, Rob. No way. I can't. It was -- complicated."

"What do you mean, complicated? Tell me!"

"I can't, Rob," I insisted.

"Ohhhh," he said. "I get it. You slept with some married chick or something. Probably some hot MILF on a girls-only trip, who jumped at a chance to sleep with a young stud. Is that it?"

I stared down at my beer. The explanation Rob had invented on his own wasn't bad, and had the advantage of not including anything illegal. So I nodded. "Yeah, dude, that was it. I can't really talk about it."

"I get it, Mark, I get it. You sly dog!"

I threw myself back into my work for the next couple of weeks, catching up on projects that had changed while I was gone. I still thought about Riley constantly, and I wondered how her summer job was going.

About three weeks after I'd returned from Miami, my phone rang just after I got home from work one evening. I glanced at the screen, and my heart caught in my throat when I realized it was Riley's mother calling me.

"Hi Jennifer," I said.

"Mark. Hi. How are you?"

"I'm good. How are you, how's everyone?"

"We're all fine. Mark, Riley just left to work an evening shift at Publix and so I wanted to call you while she's not around."

"Is she OK?" I asked, worriedly.

"She's physically OK, but Mark -- I have to tell you, she's lovesick and misses you terribly. This 'one month without contact' thing has been hard on her, much harder than Jim and I realized it would be."

"It's been hard on me too," I admitted. "I miss her."

I could hear Jennifer's smile over the phone as she continued. "So I take that to mean you'd like to talk to her, soon?"

"Definitely."

Jennifer went on to explain that she and Jim had decided that this weekend -- Saturday marking 28 days since the end of the cruise -- was a good time to allow us to get in touch with each other.

"Riley works a 3:00 - 7:00 PM shift at Publix on Friday night; Jim and I thought we'd tell her she could call you after she gets home and eats some dinner. Will you be home on Friday night?"

"I will now," I told her.

"Thanks, Mark," she said. Jennifer went on to say that she and Jim would allow Riley to text and call me from now on -- other things, like video chatting, they still wanted to wait a bit longer. I agreed and told them I'd respect their wishes.

"There's one other thing, Mark," Jennifer said. "This is slightly awkward, but Jim and I want to protect both you and our daughter. Remember, she is still 15 years old and very much a minor in the eyes of the law. The two of you can't -- just can't -- have any, um, 'dirty' text conversations or send any 'inappropriate' pictures to each other."

"Oh," I said, blushing. "I hadn't even thought about that."

"Riley and her friends text each other pictures all the time, and so I bet she's thought about it. Mark, if something happened and Riley's phone -- or yours -- got stolen or something, it would be bad for all of us."

"You're right," I said, imagining what would happen if the police -- or my employer -- found naked pictures of a teenager on my phone.

"So please," she continued. "No nudity. Risque text conversations are not quite as bad, but it's probably best to avoid those as well. Anything that leaves proof on either of your phones is a bad idea. Jim and I will be looking at Riley's phone occasionally, and we'll rescind her privileges to call and text you if she can't behave."

I agreed, and we chatted a bit more before ending the conversation. Jen told me that Riley had been irritable and unpleasant the first week, asking constantly if she could call me. Things had gotten a little better in the subsequent couple of weeks; Riley was doing well at her new job, and so her parents decided to relent a little bit.

At 7:43 Friday evening, my cell phone rang with an unknown central Florida number.

"Riley?" I answered, nearly dropping the phone in my excitement.

"Mark -- oh Mark, it's so good to hear you," Riley said, her voice sweet and soft in my ear. She and I talked for nearly two hours that night, catching up. She told me about her job at Publix, about seeing her friends, about what Caitlin and Steve were up to, about how unbearably hot the central Florida summer was.

I told her about work, about my own friends, about my flights back to Boston, about my plans to see the Red Sox play this weekend and the fireworks for July 4. She had a couple of club soccer games over the next two weeks, and was staying in shape for tryouts for her school team in August.

"I really think I can make varsity this year," she said excitedly, and I enjoyed the mental picture of her flying down a grassy field, legs pumping, skin glowing with perspiration. My cock hardened at the image.

As our conversation wound down that evening, we promised to keep in touch with each other, chatting a couple of times per week or so. "Can I text you too?" she asked, and I readily agreed.

"Your mom warned me about texts and pictures," I said. "We have to keep everything PG-rated."

Riley giggled. "I know, she told me too, and I would never do anything to get you in trouble."

"I know you wouldn't, Riley. But even talking to you is a little arousing," I said. "It might be hard to keep that promise to your mom."

"Oh, I bet it will be hard," Riley said, giggling even more.

Over the next couple of weeks we chatted regularly on the phone, usually after Riley got home from a shift at the grocery store. We also started texting frequently; I loved getting random texts during the middle of my workday, many of them saying things like:

"Sitting by the pool. I wish you were here with me."

Innocent enough on the surface, of course. But the mental picture of Riley, in a swimsuit -- maybe even that purple bikini -- was incredibly arousing. Our phone conversations, while mostly innocent, contained enough innuendo that I often had to masturbate after she and I disconnected our calls.

About a month later, I was home on a Thursday night, waiting for Riley to give me a call. Via text, she and I had scheduled a chat specifically for this evening. The next day, she was heading away to a soccer workshop in Atlanta, and wouldn't be back for a few days. Given that she'd be sharing a hotel room with another girl, our communication was likely to be limited.

My phone buzzed, and I glanced down to see my custom wallpaper for Riley -- the picture of her kissing my cheek on the balcony. I was surprised to see that the message read "Riley is requesting FaceTime," but I quickly answered.

My breath caught in my throat when I saw her face -- live and in motion -- appear on my phone screen. She was as lovely as I remembered, her long blonde curls cascading around her face, tumbling down over the neckline of her green t-shirt.

"Riley!" I exclaimed. "Oh my gosh, it's so nice to see you," I said.

"It's so nice to see you too," she echoed. She swiveled the phone around and said, "say hi to my mom," and Jennifer greeted me warmly before Riley moved through her house, heading for her bedroom.

"I just wanted you to know for sure that mom and dad were cool with this," she said.

"This is great," I said, looking into her deep blue eyes, watching them twinkle as she grinned at me.

We chatted for a bit about her soccer weekend and the upcoming end of summer, and her classes for the fall. She was taking honors-level math and biology classes in her sophomore year, dovetailing nicely with her eventual career goal of becoming a nurse.

"I saw Caitlin today," Riley said. I asked how she and Steve were doing, and Riley told me they were doing well, Caitlin excited to move out of her parents' house and into a dorm.

"She asked me if you and I were going to do some naughty video chatting," Riley said, lowering her voice, her cheeks pink.

"Riley," I said, a warning tone in my voice. "I promised your mom."

"I know," she said. "I did too. But I miss you ... touching me, holding me, doing things to me."

"God, Riley, I miss that too," I said. "Every time I touch myself, I think of you." She blushed more, and I looked at her. "Do you touch yourself, thinking of me?"

She cast her eyes down, away from the phone screen. "Maybe."

"Are you going to touch yourself tonight, after we talk? Imagining my fingers running over your skin, touching you everywhere?"

Riley looked back up at me, her eyes wide. "Yes, Mark. God yes, I am."

As July turned into August, Riley and I kept texting and video-chatting with each other on a regular basis. Our conversations were occasionally risque, but keeping with my promise to her mother, we refrained from any sort of nudity or "cybersex" activity. We did continue to say "I love you" to each other quite often, though. Riley told me her parents had tried to discourage that, but to no avail.

When Riley went back to school in late August, our communication frequency dipped a bit. She was busy with soccer tryouts and classes, plus homework in the evenings. I texted her when I could, letting her know I was thinking about her on both the first day of school and her first day of tryouts, and she called me excitedly when she found out she made the varsity soccer team. "I'm one of only three sophomores," she said.

She often texted me at random points through the day, and I asked her if students at her school got in trouble for using their phones.

"As long as we're not in class, it's OK," she said. "We can use them at lunch, and in the halls between classes."

"Does anyone ever see what I text you, or what you text me?" I asked.

"Not really," she said. "Maybe just a glance here and there. I updated your contact in my iPhone to say 'Uncle Mark, ' just in case. And I put the photo of me kissing your cheek on the balcony."

"That's what I have for you," I laughed.

About a week later, Riley video-called me. It was the Saturday of Labor Day weekend, and I'd been on a friend's boat most of the day. I'd showered and thrown on shorts and a tshirt, and was still towel-drying my hair when she called.

I grabbed my iPad and answered her call. "My sweet Riley, how are you?"

She smiled widely at my greeting, or maybe my appearance. "Hi there, sexy Mark. Just out of the shower?"

I nodded. "It's too bad you weren't here to wash my back," I said boldly.

"Ooh!" she exclaimed. "I would have loved that."

We chatted innocently for a few more minutes, but one or the other of us kept making double entendres, or sly sexual references. I hadn't masturbated for a couple of days, and I felt my cock stirring beneath my shorts.

"Mom and Dad are over at some friends' tonight," Riley said slyly, "So I helped myself to half a glass of mom's wine," she said, holding it up to show me. "And I also I thought maybe we could have some fun," she said in a low, breathy voice.

"Hold on, Riley," I said. "You know we can't."

"We can, actually," she said, "And you've been flirting with me so much tonight, I know you want to."

"I do, Riley, god I do, but I promised your mom..."

"You promised her no nudity, right?"

"Yeah."

"No pictures, no incriminating texts, nothing stored on your phone or iPad, right?"

"Yeah," I said, exasperated.

"So I've been thinking about this for a while," Riley said, bending over and reaching down out of the frame for a second, wiggling in her chair. I was distracted by the momentary glimpse down her shirt, the top of a white bra briefly visible.

She sat back up and gazed at me, keeping her hands out of the frame, those bright blue eyes piercing into my own. "Mark. After we get off this call, what are you going to do?"

"Well, I mean, I would probably watch some TV or something, then go to bed."

She looked at me, saying nothing.

"All right. You know what I'm going to do. I almost always make myself come after I talk to you Riley. You're just so damn sexy, and I keep thinking about what it's like to touch you, to taste you, to be inside you..."

Riley shivered. "I know, Mark. I know. And I do the same thing after I talk to you. I never made myself come before I met you -- now I do it all the time, dreaming of you. It isn't the same as being with you, of course."

"I know," I said.

"So," she said, her cheeks turning slightly pink. "I thought that maybe, tonight, we could do what we normally do after our call, during our call."

She held up her hands and showed me what she was holding. In her right hand, a pair of blue shorts. In her left hand, a pair of white panties.

My brain froze up for a second, as I tried to process this new information. "So you're -- I mean you took off your -- so you're not wearing anything..." I trailed off.

"That's right, sexy Mark," she said, tossing the garments to the floor and leaning back in her chair a little. "Below the waist, I'm completely naked. Above the waist, in view of the camera, I'm perfectly covered."

I groaned. "Oh my god, Riley. That is so fucking hot."

She grinned. "Thanks. I was pretty proud of it myself. Now, get naked on your bottom half like I am, and let's make each other come."

"Riley, I'm still not sure this is a good idea --"

"Mark. Pleeeeasse," she said. "I need this."

Truth be told, I needed it too. So, I slipped my shorts and boxers off, holding them up to show Riley the evidence, and I slowly began stroking myself, watching her on the screen. Her hands once again slipped down below the border of the display, and I watched her shudder with pleasure as she made contact with her pussy.

"Oh, so good, Mark," she moaned. "I've been thinking about this for a couple of hours."

"Tell me, Riley. Tell me what you feel like, what your sweet little pussy feels like."

She blushed, some of her wine-encouraged boldness slipping away. "I -- I don't know if I can. You first."

"OK," I said, staring into her eyes and describing my actions. "I'm stroking my cock, slowly for now. It's almost all the way hard, I got stiff very suddenly when I realized you were holding your panties in your hand!"

She giggled, and I continued.

"I'm wishing it was your soft hand wrapped around me," I said, "moving up and down, slowly. The skin pulling in each direction as I stroke myself."

"Fuck, that is hot," Riley moaned, shifting in her chair slightly. I watched, the motions of her upper arms incredibly arousing. Even though I couldn't see her hands, I knew where they were, and what they were doing. Unconsciously, I craned my neck forward, trying to violate the laws of physics and see what her fingers were doing.

"Tell me, Riley," I breathed, stroking myself a little faster.

"OK," she said in a quaver. "I'm touching myself -- my lips and my clittie. I'm so wet and warm, Mark, thinking of you. Wishing that my fingers were yours -- or that it was your tongue, licking me up and down."

I groaned, and she continued. "I'm touching just around my -- my hole," she said. "Not quite going inside, just around in circles," she said, breathing heavily.

"Put it in, Riley," I said. "Put your fingertip in."

"Oh god," she moaned, arching her back. "It's in -- Mark, it's in, sliding a finger in and out of me, so wet..."

I stroked myself faster, telling her about it. "My cock is as hard as steel now, Riley. I'm gripping myself even harder, feeling my balls start to tighten now, wishing you were touching them with your sweet hands."

"God, Mark, I wish you were here, I need your cock in me soooooo bad," she moaned.

I pumped my cock for a couple of minutes, staring at her image on the screen, listening to her soft sighs, mesmerized by her heaving chest. I could see her nipples making points in her tshirt.

"Riley -- touch your nipples," I moaned. "I'm so close."

"Oh god, me too," she said. She slipped one hand up her body, pushing it up inside her tshirt, clutching at her breast. The motion exposed a long swath of her smooth stomach.

I imagined the feel of that soft skin, the smell of Riley's musk, the taste of her wet pussy, the feel of her lips on my cock, and it was just too much.

"Oh Riley. Oh I'm going to come baby, going to come for you, my sweet Riley."

"Oh god, Mark, me too, oh I'm going to come all over my hand, oh god I wish it was your hand, your mouth, your beautiful dick spurting in me..."

Her last words triggered my climax, my cock throbbing in my hand. "Oh!! Oh god, coming, oh god Riley I'm coming!" I shouted, my cock pulsing in climax. My come shot out over my clenching fingers, blasting up onto my tshirt, in view of the camera.

"Oh god! Oh I saw it Mark, ohmygod I see you coming, ohgodohgodohgod," Riley cried out, arching her back in pleasure as she came. As her hips raised up off her desk chair, I caught the briefest glimpse of her navel and the top of her bare pelvis, before she collapsed back down, exhausted.

We both caught our breath, chests heaving, hands still sticky in our own laps.

"God, Riley, that was amazing," I said, when I was finally able to catch my breath.

"I know, it was," she said, holding up one hand to the camera, showing me how her fingertips were wet and shiny. "We will be doing this again," she said, and I nodded.

Over the next month or so, we had a few chances to repeat our mutual masturbation fun, but not many. Riley was too worried about getting caught to do anything when her parents were home, so our opportunities were restricted to the times when she was home by herself. Between school activities, soccer, and a couple of shifts per week at Publix, there simply wasn't a whole lot of time.

We kept up our texting and occasional phone calls, too. It was nice to get a text from her at random times, and it kept our connection strong.

I stayed in touch with her parents over text and email, as well. Jen was great about letting me know the results of Riley's soccer games and her achievements at school. She would also send me pictures -- including Riley's school pic, pictures from soccer, and pictures of outings with her friends. While I loved seeing these glimpses into her life, they also served as a constant reminder of just how different our lives were.

One mid-afternoon in early October, I got another jarring reminder. I was driving back from lunch when Jennifer called me.

We made pleasant chit-chat for a couple of minutes, but I could tell she had something on her mind. Finally, she was able to broach the subject. "Mark, I wanted to tell you -- last night, a boy in Riley's class asked her to their school's Homecoming dance."

I pulled over to the side of the road, suddenly unsure of my ability to safely drive a car. "I see," I said. "Did she say yes?"

"Not yet," Jennifer said. "She told him she had to get permission from us, and she would let him know by tomorrow. I think she's going to tell you about it tonight."

"Oh," I said. I wasn't sure what else to say.

"Mark," Jennifer said. "I -- I like you so very much. Both Jim and I do. But we also think it's important for Riley to date boys her own age, like we told you on the cruise. And, for that matter, you should date women your own age. Have you dated anyone since the cruise?"

"No," I admitted quietly.

"This is Riley's decision," Jennifer said. "Jim and I told her we'd start treating her more like an adult after The Arrangement, and we meant it. But he and I both wish she would accept this invitation. It's good for her."

Later that night, Riley and I had a tearful and somewhat painful conversation on the topic. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, Mark," she said, tears running down her face. "I love you!"

"I love you too, Riley," I said quietly. "But if I wasn't in the picture, would you go to the dance with this guy?"

"Yes," she admitted. "He's sweet, and I've known him a long time, and I don't want to miss the dance."

"Then go," I said, knowing it was the right thing to say. "Riley, I love you, and I know you love me. But you're 15, with almost three full years of high school left. If you don't do things like this, you're going to miss out on a lot."

She nodded. "That's pretty much what daddy said."

"I'm not going anywhere, Riley. If you and I are meant to end up together, we will. But in the meantime, you have to live your life."

She nodded, and sniffled. "I know. But that goes for you too, Mark. You should be asking girls out, if you want to."

I nodded. "Your mom said the same thing."

So, Riley went to the Homecoming dance with some guy named Trevor, and I tried not to think about it too much that night. Would he try to kiss her? Would she let him? Would they do more than just kiss?

In the end, I drank way too much that night, and passed out in a confused stupor.

Riley's mom emailed me and asked if I wanted to see their pictures from the dance. I agonized over the decision, eventually asking her to send me one, and only one.

Riley looked radiant in a dark green dress, with a mid-level slit that showed off a wonderful swath of leg. In low heeled shoes, she was still about an inch taller than her date, who looked like a typical high school kid. Messy hair, dorky look on his face. They stood in front of the camera, arms awkwardly around each other. I was pleased to see Riley wearing a wrist corsage, instead of a corsage pinned to the front of her dress -- that was one less chance for Trevor to grope at her!

I didn't ask Riley much about the dance, and she didn't offer much. Jennifer gave me bits and pieces of information, and I even talked to Caitlin a couple of times about it. It seemed like Riley went out with Trevor a couple more times following the dance, but I didn't get the feeling I was being replaced. For my part, I saw no one in my own life that could compare to Riley, so I simply didn't date.

Our conversations were a bit strained for a while following the Homecoming dance, but I tried to get them back on normal footing. Our first chance to have a mutual masturbation session was about two weeks after the dance, and we cried out each other's names in passion.

The leaves changed color on the trees (at least for me, not as much for Riley in Florida), and the calendar turned to November. I knew Riley's 16th birthday was at the end of the month, and I wondered what I could get her. I was thinking about lingerie, wondering if she could privately model it for me on FaceTime or something, but I wasn't sure if that was appropriate.

I was sitting in my cubicle, thinking about her and avoiding work, when my cell phone rang, Jim calling me. We greeted each other, and then Jim asked me what I was doing the week between Christmas and New Year's this year.

"No plans yet," I said. "Why?"

"Well, as a birthday present for Riley, her mom and I thought we might get her an airplane ticket and let her come visit you for a few days."

"Wowwww," I breathed. "That would be great!"

"Once she turns 16," Jim said, "Her mother and I feel comfortable with her spending some time with you. As I'm sure you know, the age of consent in Massachusetts is 16."

"Oh, it is?" I said, trying to sound innocent. In reality, I'd looked that up the day I returned from the cruise.

Jim laughed. "Indeed it is, Mark. Indeed it is. "So Jennifer and I looked at a calendar, and we'd want her here on Christmas, of course. But maybe she could come up and see you the 27th-30th, or something like that?"

I pulled up my calendar, thinking fast. "Jim, when does Riley start school again?"

"Um, Monday the 4th I think."

"Well, maybe she could come up like the 29th or 30th, and stay through new year's, maybe flying home on the 2nd? It would be fun to spend new year's eve with Riley."

Jim was quiet for a moment, then said, "I'd have to talk with Jen, but that sounds okay to me. Mark, you know she'll still just be 16, so you can't take her out on the town or anything on new year's."

"I know, but it's a dangerous night to be on the roads anyway. We can have a quiet evening at home," I said. It was still somewhat unbelievable to me that I could casually chat with this man about my plans for his (soon to be) 16-year-old daughter.

"Okay," he said. "Let me check with Jen and then we'll get Riley the ticket."

"Actually, Jim," I interrupted. "I'd like to buy the plane ticket for Riley, if that's OK. As my present to her."

Jim was quiet again for a moment or two. "That would be nice, Mark. And would really mean a lot to Riley. Okay, thank you."

Jim and Jennifer and I corresponded via email to work out the details, and I bought Riley's ticket from Orlando to Boston.

We agreed that I could be the one to surprise her with the news, on her actual birthday, which fell on the day after Thanksgiving this year. She and her mom went "Black Friday" shopping in the morning, but Jen texted me in the early afternoon when they got home, and I sent Riley a FaceTime request.

"Hi beautiful -- happy birthday!" I said, when she answered.

"Thanks, Mark!"

"Sweet 16, wow. Sweet 16 and never been kiss... , well, that's not exactly right," I said, winking at her.

"Mark!"

We chatted for a few minutes about the sales that morning and her birthday plans with her friends later that night. I refrained from asking if "Trevor" was included in the group.

Finally, I said, "I have a present for you, and I think you're going to like it. At least I hope so."

"Oh, Mark, I'm sure I will," she said, excitedly. "Where is it?"

I clicked the send button in my browser, forwarding the airline reservation information to her, and said, "It should be arriving in your email about now."

I watched as she pulled her phone out of her pocket (like me, she was FaceTime-ing from an iPad most times, now) and checked her email. "Let's see -- email confirmation, American Airlines -- are you coming to see me? -- wait, no Orlando TO Boston..." her voice trailed off as she realized what this meant.

"Wait, really? I'm coming to Boston to see you, December 29, going home January 2?"

"Yep."

"Oh Mark, I love this love this love this and I love you!! I can't wait to see you!!"

I eagerly anticipated Riley's visit over the next month; in some ways, it turned out both better and worse than I expected.

We kept up contact in the intervening weeks, of course. I sent her parents and Steve and Caitlin Christmas cards, with gift certificates to local restaurants I know they'd like. We did a video chat on Christmas Day, exchanging holiday wishes. I promised Riley that I had presents waiting for her under my small tree, and she said she'd be bringing a present for me as well.