Chapter 2

“So why were you so late last night?” my wife asked me the next morning before I left for work.

“Well, after the meeting we went out to eat and stuff, then went over to somebody’s house. I just didn’t think to call,” I lied smoothly. Most of it was true. Usually after the sci-fi meeting we’d go to some unlucky restaurant making too much noise - geeks in a crowd will tend to do that, and I’d give somebody a ride home.

“Hm. Well, next time, call,” my wife said.

Whatever, bitch. I finished drinking some juice. “Sorry, hon. I gotta go.”

A week later, and it was another sci-fi meeting. Jennifer was happy to see me. I had let her know in a phone conversation that we weren’t boyfriend/girlfriend, which she agreed to, stating she didn’t want to get “tied down”.

Which didn’t help her friend Brian from giving me dirty looks. Brian’s a big, stocky kind of guy. Looks kind of like Silent Bob, if you watch “Clerks” or “Chasing Amy”. On the one hand, I know I could take him in a fight. About a month ago while the sci-fi club was shooting the breeze one of the guys had made the comment that I was probably the strongest guy in the room. Don’t know why he thought that. Maybe because I was usually so reserved, but I knew he was right. I was the one who worked out, rode a bike to work multiple times a week - a 20 mile trip both ways.

He hung around Jennifer like he was some sort of protector. Now, I’m not stupid. I wasn’t going to pick a fight with him. And while I wanted to screw Jennifer some more, I had other angles I was still working. So I was my usual self to the crowd.

Did I feel guilty putting on this false face to my friends, the look of a honest working guy who’s wife died on him, and he didn’t bring people to his house (especially dates) because he “wasn’t ready”?

The sad thing, the sci-fi club is one of the few places where I could be myself. I didn’t just come here looking for chicks, though about 30 seconds I walked into the club I knew that I would use my old “widower’s routine”.

I first came for, well, companionship. I am a geek, computer geek by trade. I like to play computer games, watch anime and manga (Japanese comic books) though I probably know only 5 words of Japanese. I like science fiction and fantasy stories. And, maybe, I was a bit lonely. The other geeks I work with are just into their programming business and could care less about games and such. My wife is more “Friends” and “Pride and Prejudice” to understand why I find the story of Lain, a girl who might not exist except as an extension of people’s perception of reality on the Internet, is fascinating.

I wanted somebody to talk to. Somebody who shared my interests, that I could tell them about a pink haired girl named Utena that wanted to be a prince and not get odd looks.

The problem was, once you start a lie, you can’t get out of it. For a year now I had been coming to to the sci-fi club. Sometimes I wished I had told them I was a married man with a little girl already. Would make things easier, like my excuses as to why people couldn’t go to my house. I was purposely cagey about where I worked for fear that one of them would call me up for lunch, meet my coworkers, and the truth would spill out.

And yeah, I liked dating. There were some cute girls in the group, and I flirted with all of them. That was what I was known for: being a flirt. It might seem strange to think how that’s a good thing, but maybe it’s the way I do it. Maybe the group I’m in. Maybe it’s because I’ve dated quite a few of the girls, and if a new girl shows up that’s cute, I will usually ask them out for a date.

In a group of people where the guys are more interested in playing Magic: The Gathering than asking out a girl, I am the stud. Funny how every group has an Alpha and Omega. Here, I’m the Alpha. I have an actual job instead of working in a video store or just being a poor student. I am in shape, pretty good looking if I do say so myself, articulate, I know how to speak, and more importantly, I know how to listen and act interested.

Usually I am interested in what these people have to say. All of them are my friends. I love them to death.

I just don’t tell them that I’m actually a lying asshole who uses a story to cover up my “other” life. It makes me feel bad sometimes, but it’s the lot I’ve chosen, and I’ve just learned to get by for now. Maybe that’s why I didn’t feel that guilty about sleeping with Jennifer. My guilt receptors are all burned out.

About halfway through the meeting, I vanished and called my wife on my cell phone to tell her where I was, that I was going to head back to the office to work the backup shift, and to remember that in the server room cell phones didn’t work, so on and so forth. I went back to the group and continued talking. I don’t remember what was playing that night - I think we were working our way through an anime series called “Escaflowne” with Byzantine plots and steam-driven magical robots - the Japanese and their giant robots - then left to go to work for a bit.

I did some work stuff to get my hours in, set up an automatic process, and left. I usually don’t do the night job unless one of the usual night operators needs to take a vacation. It’s really just start the backup, leave, then organize the print outs which is done in the morning. For six hours you just wait.

I went to Jennifer’s house instead. It wasn’t too much later that we were fooling around in her bed, once again trying to be quiet to keep from waking up her room mate. I don’t remember his name. Didn’t really care.

I had left the condoms at her place. It wasn’t like I was going to take them home, right? But I didn’t put them on right away. First Jennifer and I fooled around, a little “touch-you-touch-me”. She was still shy about touching my cock, but fine - I was going to have something better than her hand anyway.

I lamented that I was married. For the umpteenth time in my life, I wished I was single. I would let her stay in one of my spare bedrooms in the house and turn her into a sex slave. I knew she had the personality for it. For all of her toughness with her goth hair makeup, she was so needy she was spreading her legs for a man who had never taken her out on a date. I dreamed of leaning her over a chair and spanking her large fanny until it was red, of having her beg for my cock.

There was one fantasy that I wanted more than any other, though. Ever since I was a teenager, my favorite masturbation scenario revolved around virgins and pregnancy. It’s a popular topic - Frank McCoy writes about it. Wollestonecraft was a master of it, my own writings are full of it. Finding the virgin slut: the girl who has never been taken, making you her first, and knocking her up in the process. Starting a new life. Consensual or not - though consensual is hotter, maybe with a bit of reluctance.

I put the condom in her hand. “Hold onto this,” I said as I pulled her to me. “I’ll let you know when we need it.”