Chapter 1

It all started about 10 years ago, when I interned at one of the largest PR firms in New York City. My name's Marianne, and at the time, I was 22 years old, bright eyed, eager about my future, and more than a little excited about my plum position in the trenches at this great firm. I still remember that first interview after all these years; when I met David. That interview still stands as one of the oddest moments in my life. There was something about David that I couldn't put my finger on, but through the entire interview, I could barely move my eyes from his... there was just a strange connection that to this day I swear I felt, and it was the strangest thing... so familiar, like I'd known him before. Of course, some of this might have had to do with the physical attraction I felt for him also. His piercing, sex-filled eyes burning back into mine did nothing to deter the innate draw that he seemed to hold for me. When I left, with assurances that the internship was mine, I tried my best to shake that odd feeling that I'd had, and managed to, for the most part-until I started the internship 2 weeks later.

I showed up for the first day as eager as ever to start learning about what I hoped at the time would be my future career, not to mention excited about seeing David again; I was especially curious to see if he'd have the same effect on me as before. It didn't take long to learn the answer to that question. As I turned a corner on my way to the company lounge to get my morning cup of coffee, I saw him step off the elevator, and my heart leaped into my throat. What was it about him?! I'd never felt so strongly about anyone in my life, particularly someone that I didn't know the least about... on the one hand, I felt like I was being irrational; on the other, I was realizing that I felt what I felt, and couldn't deny it. Maybe I'd experienced the phenomenon of "love at first sight."

He showed me around that day, and I was impressed by how thorough he was in showing me daily minutiae-not to mention sweet and patient when it took me a while to catch on. He introduced me to my coworkers; I would be spending a lot of time with Pete in particular, who was a real asswipe when it came to me, with his sexist/racist comments, but it didn't seem appropriate to bring that up to David at the time... or ever. But I took solace in the hope that someday a jerk like him would be the equivalent of gum on the bottom of my shoe-and besides, I got to work with a cutie like David.

We worked together for almost 3 months over the summer, until the Fall semester started and I had to start grad school uptown. During that time, I still never learned much about him except the usual, regarding his age, upbringing, family, education, that sort of thing. I did pick up on his loneliness in some of his comments around the office, never directly to me, so I was fairly certain that he'd been disappointed in love somewhere along the line and wasn't involved, but we never talked about our personal lives aside from the casual. It might seem odd that despite our long hours working together, that that was all I really learned about him, and perhaps it is; but despite that, I still was never able to shake that feeling of being "close" to him. There was an obvious sexual tension any time we were together, and I felt that we were both making it clear that we liked and wanted to be around the other. It kept building all summer long until all of my masturbatory fantasies starred the lonesome and mysterious David. I would wake up in the middle of the night, in a sheen of sweat, disappointed that he wasn't really there, twisting my nipples furiously while growling his arousal into my ear.

By this point, I realized that no matter how much he was attracted to me, he wasn't going to compromise his promising career by asking out a summer intern over 10 years his junior; so I decided that I'd have to be the one to make the first move. About a week after I'd left the internship, I was still living in New York, and I decided to drop by his office that night, knowing he'd be working late as usual. To say he was surprised to see me would be an understatement. When I saw the happiness in his eyes, I was relieved beyond belief... despite the way we'd flirted during my time there, I was very aware of the differences in our ages (17 years), backgrounds, financial status, etc., and always had the fear of rejection at the back of my mind. We hung around his office a little bit, making small talk before he suggested a neighborhood bar where the interns and a few of the company execs frequent. For a few hours that night, David and I probably had the longest, most interesting, least hormone-driven conversation we'd ever had and would ever have again. We talked about nothing in particular, flirting and drinking all the while, and to put it shortly, by the end of the night I knew that I wanted to feel his lips on my lips, his firm muscular chest against mine, his strong arms pinning me down to his bed, big strong hands running up and down along my smooth thighs, his hoarse, lusty moans in my ears... and his thick cock sliding in and out of me hard and fast, in wanton desire as I writhed under him, moaning his name.

As he paid the tab, I offered to walk him back to his place, which was on my way to the subway... Once there, we got into a lip lock that I hoped would induce any red-blooded male to invite me up for a nightcap... and he did! Riding the elevator up the 20 floors to his apartment was the longest minute of my life. As I felt the wetness seeping through my panties, I had to stop myself from rubbing my thighs together in anticipation of what I hoped was coming. It was kind of weird once we got up there, though. He insisted on giving me the full tour, which was nice, but I had no interest in it-I wanted him to take me hungrily right then and there. But I was patient... After about 15 minutes of small talk sans flirting, I figured that he was either gay and I'd been totally misreading his signals for the past few months, or he was nervous about making a move. In case it was the former, I let myself down mentally and prepared to leave, telling him that I really liked his place. As I picked up my clutch from the coffee table and walked towards the room's door, I felt him come up behind me. His arms wrapped around me, as they had in several of my tamer fantasies, and he took my clutch, tossing it back on the table... ahhh-so he WAS just a little nervous, I sighed inwardly, in relief. He turned me around to face him and pressed against me, allowing me to feel his hardness through his pants. Our lips met in the sweetest kiss I'd had in years. Feeling his soft, sweet lips press against mine felt so right, and fueled the fire that had been growing in me since I'd met him. His hardness pressing against my stomach, the feel of his lips, the safe, warm way I felt in his arms was so familiar... I felt lost in his arms, and I let myself go in a way that I never had with anyone else. To this day, I still don't know what it was about him, but everything just felt so good, and like it shouldn't have been any other way than the way it was that night. As our kiss grew more intense, he ground his manhood more heatedly against my torso, making me ache to touch it. I began to rub him through his pants, loving the moans and raggedness of his breath in my ear, exactly the way I'd imagined it to be. He hungrily rubbed my crotch and my ass through my pants... I could hardly stand it, and knew I was moving way too fast, but I wanted to feel this man, who'd aroused feelings and thoughts in me like no one else had, I wanted to feel his hands and his lips roaming all over my needing flesh, wanted to feel his hard, toned body against mine. I hurriedly ripped off my shirt and bra, dying to finally see and feel those soft lips that I'd daydreamed about since meeting him suck and kiss my turgid nipples and aching breasts. He latched on to a nipple, and sucked and lapped at me in such a way, that I swear the wetness in my panties increased three-fold. I was so aroused... I had to touch his cock, hold it, taste it, let him fill me with it over and over. I grappled with his belt and trousers, and when they fell to his knees, my mouth watered at the tent in his boxers... I dove my hand into the material, and felt his hot, hard cock, pulsing and venous; he moaned into my mouth, and started pumping his hips slowly back and forth into the tight grip of my hand. The heat in his shorts was tremendous, so I pulled them down a little, also wanting to feel his firm cock against the skin of my torso. Both of us aching to be one, he began unbuttoning my slacks, and once he got them off, wasted no time rubbing my ass, which were exposed by my thong, and running his fingers back and forth across my slit, feeling the wetness that he alone had caused. After fantasizing about him for so long, I felt like things couldn't move fast enough, which was pretty atypical for my style. Tonight, I wanted this man that I hungered for to fuck me the way that I knew he could. With unrestrained, primal, wanton passion. I could see the challenge and the base sex in his eyes the first time we met, and now I wanted him to prove it to me with every fiber of my being, to fuck me long and hard, to make me scream his name while I came hard, bucking and writhing, pierced by his thick cock, or moaning and rolling my hips as I came into his sexy mouth. He lifted me effortlessly towards the bed and laid me down across it. The lust in his eyes would've frightened me had I not felt exactly the same way at the moment. His firm hands spread my legs, and before I could even take a breath, his hard cock was piercing through my soft folds mercilessly, as he fucked me with relish and force. He slid out almost the entire way, then slid back in, hard, making me gasp his name as he sucked my earlobe, pounding into me again and again. His sweet lips latched on to my sensitive nipples again, laving each one with pleasure, while he slid in and out, making me hotter and hotter with each firm stroke. I couldn't believe that I was finally fucking this virile fantasy of mine, and that he was everything I'd imagined. He kept a steady pace, fucking my tight hole harder and harder as he came closer to exploding in me; and when he finally did, his thick cock twitching madly and pulsing as it let loose it's sweet nectar into my needy cunt, I came also, calling his name and grasping the sheets as I had so many times in my David fantasies.

After our climax, we laid there for a while, touching silently. I would be lying if I said that thoughts of rejection didn't again cross my mind. The fact was, we were very different, and though I knew I could deal with it and what it would bring, I also knew that as a red-blooded male in the corporate world, he had an image to keep that didn't include a 22-year-old Latina from the inner city, no matter how much he was attracted to me... to be honest, with a situation like ours, I didn't even want to embarrass myself by suggesting a relationship to him-I wasn't clueless. As we each lay there with our separate thoughts, the shrill ring of the phone interrupted. He walked out to the living room to pick it up, and alone once again with my thoughts, realizing that I'd crossed the safe fantasy line into a reality that I knew would end up hurting me, I decided to get dressed and leave. Besides, I had to pack anyway to move to my new place near campus. I left my phone number with David, knowing I'd probably never hear from him again, but hoping against hope that my initial gut feeling when I first met him was right, and that he was different from the typical corporate white male I'd pigeonholed him as post-coitus.

I woke early the next morning, feeling slightly more positive about the night before, and later in the day, decided to call David and tell him what a great night I'd had with him. He sounded a lot more brusque than usual, and although he said he'd has a good time also, he seemed in a rush to get off the phone, so I took it for what it is was, and left it at that. I thought maybe he'd call if he was in a better mood, but didn't count on it; I'd heard enough from friends about guys like him, and knew better than to get too excited.

It was about two weeks later. I'd finally finished moving into my new place, and was settling in as a grad student. I wasn't seeing anyone, and after my last serious relationship, which ended about 2 months before the internship, added to my experience with David, I wasn't too interested in getting involved with anyone, and I was feeling really good about being alone. One night after a long day of classes, and of course, a long two weeks without any sort of sexual release, I logged on to my favorite erotica site to read a little and get off before going to bed. Sex at work being my favorite category at the time, I started there and browsed through the stories that were posted since the last time I'd logged on a few months ago. There was a recently posted one, with a lead character by the name of David. Intrigued at finding a sex at work story centering on a character with the name of my recent crush, I decided to read and see how much this fare compared with my own fantasies of David from a few weeks ago. It was well written, and from the female perspective. A very detailed, engaging story about a young woman working in a small office with a guy named Dave, who loved it when she called him David; the awkward flirtations between the two, and how right it felt when they finally got together, but the doubts that each felt after their heated tryst at the obstacles they would face if they tried to be together. As I read on, it occurred to me that except that I hadn't, this story could very well have been written by me! The writer's words, emotions and feelings toward this "David" were all mine! Down to how "right" and comfortable it felt being around each other. I couldn't believe it! It was just too damn weird. I racked my brain, trying to think back about whom I could've possibly told such intimate details about that night to, or my emotions surrounding it, and the answer was absolutely no one. The only two people who could've written that story were David, or I-- and I knew for sure that it wasn't me. I sat at my computer, staring at the story for about 20 minutes after reading it, trying to think things through and be rational. I asked myself what the odds were that it wasn't him... that it was a complete coincidence that someone wrote a story directly paralleling what had happened between David and me a mere two weeks ago. The odds seemed pretty low on that. There were details, interactions between us, things that were just too close to home to not have been written by him. And on the one in a million chance that it wasn't him, then who was this person whose story so directly paralleled my life? It was at that point that I decided to do something that would end up forever changing my life. For years, I had read erotica on the net intermittently as a passive observer, never voting, mailing the authors, or even writing my own work. But this night, I sat there and I composed a message to the author of this story. If it was David, and he wrote what he honestly felt, and his emotions paralleled mine so completely, how could this be wrong? Given the strong way I felt about him before he did a complete 180 after sex and brushed me off, and given the fact that out of all of the erotica websites that he could post a story on that it had been posted on the only site I'd ever read from-- that we both somehow ended up crossing paths on the same one... if it was really him, wouldn't that have to mean something? And if it wasn't him, then I could find out about this person whose story paralleled my life in such detail, and that would be that. So I went for it, composing a rather (I think) polite letter about the story, then went to bed, a million thoughts about who David really was, how little I actually knew him despite the intensely close feelings I'd felt for him since day one, and wondering if my initial feelings towards him, and that uncanny affection I secretly felt for him, were of any significance after all.

I woke up the next morning, and checked my email right away. Of course there was nothing, and I was somewhat disappointed. But I put myself in his shoes (if it was indeed, David who'd written the story) and suddenly felt like an idiot for sending the email... if I were in his shoes, and had written a story about him like that, and he'd found it and emailed me, I would've been so humiliated that I wouldn't be able to put words to it. How could I have been so stupid as to write to him about it? Maybe I should've written story in response? But I had no experience writing erotica, I couldn't have possibly done a good enough job to turn him on and let him know that I'd read it, and how aroused it had made me. Should I have asked him out again, playing it cool, and then bringing it up later that I like to read erotica? Surely I could've done something smarter and less confrontational than an email... what an idiot I was, I thought to myself. I waited an entire week and still got no response. At this point, I realized that I had to ask someone for advice here. I felt like maybe I'd exercised bad judgment in even thinking that he'd written the story... Maybe I'd gone off the deep end with my initial idea, and I needed a good friend's honest opinion on my sanity. With that, I paid my best friend and ex-boyfriend Marc a visit. He'd already known about what I'd felt for David since day one, and encouraged me when I asked him on the first date, and then stroked my ego when he never called me back afterwards. He also knew most of the intimate details of that night (I know what you're thinking, but no; several of the details in the story, I'd omitted in my retelling... best friend or not, some details cross the border into "too much information" territory) so I sat him down and admitted to him that yes, puritan me, who'd only lost my virginity a year before and was so ladylike on the exterior was a closet erotica fan... he even pored over the story with me and assured me that I wasn't insane, that it certainly seemed likely that the story was indeed written by David. He told me that the email was a bad idea, and that maybe I should just call him... clearly if he's writing things about me that mirror my exact feelings, not to mention that we're both clearly highly sexual and into erotica, that we could surely find some way to be together, whether just as friends, lovers, or maybe even just fellow erotica fans. There just seemed to be no reason to hide, especially considering how much I genuinely liked him in the first place... the idea that he was some sexy, secret erotica writer just made him seem that much more special to me. I waited a couple more days, and when I thought to myself that if I don't call this guy soon, there's a possibility that I might never again speak to the intelligent, lovable, sexy, and (talk about icing on the cake) secretly erotic sex writer who I hadn't been able to get off my mind since the very first day, there was no stopping my fingers from dialing. Truth be told, at this time, I was far from in love with David; but the feelings he aroused in me, not to mention the other part he aroused... I just felt like I couldn't ignore this, especially now with this new amazing facet of him that I'd possibly discovered. It just made him seem so much more human to me, and if I felt drawn to his soul before, I was doubly so now. Unfortunately he didn't share my enthused outlook. If I didn't think it was David that had written the story before, I knew it after that phone call. His voice was ice, and he made it quite clear that he didn't want to speak with me or see me again. I tried to be my usual bubbly self, but he didn't even pretend to make small talk this time; he shut me down in less than 1 minute, saying that he couldn't talk, and before I knew it the line was dead. I was upset, to be honest, and Marc again consoled me, trying to get me to see David's point of view. How humiliated he must've been, and angry that I'd found this secret side of him... perhaps worried that I'd use it against him as sexual harassment, or blackmail of some sort. To top it off, all I could think about was that he probably was wondering what kind of terrible, promiscuous person I was. Here I was, his intern for the summer, and not only had I asked him out, but also slept with him on the first date, then to top it off, I also read Internet porn? He probably now thought I was some easy sleaze. To be honest, I hadn't expected much after that night with him; I know what the world is like. But when I saw that story, and his feelings or at least what he wrote seemed to match so closely to what I'd been feeling for him since day one, and it seemed to me that he'd felt the same... I can't even describe how buoyant that thought made me feel. The closeness I'd felt for him suddenly made a little more sense... I thought maybe we were alike, maybe he was different from the typical guy I'd cast him off as, and he could see past my age and background to the mature, caring, wholesome person I was. I know I was being naïve, in retrospect, but that's honestly how I felt at the time. And when he brushed me off a second time, even more coldly than the first, added to what I thought he now assumed about the type of "sleazy" person I was, I can't even describe how much that hurt me... like I hadn't even been given a chance to explain my part of it. And I guess what bothered me most at the time was the avoidance of it; Nothing soothes my mind more than a complete clearing of the air. I hate secrets, lies, and dishonesty... The only time things are clear is when they're in the open, and people are straightforward. It burned a hole in me to not be able to talk with him about this. But on the other hand, I could wholly understand why bringing this out into the open would make him uncomfortable... but it still ate at me, and to be honest it still does, because I know that if things had been addressed and cleared up then, that I could've avoided years of heartache and confusion after that moment.

Chapter 2

It was about 1 week later when I got the email. It was from the author of the story, a "woman" from the western US, named Vivian. I'd already put two and two together about David by his reaction the last time we spoke, and figured, "fine... if he wants to pretend he's someone else to protect his identity, so be it." Truth be told, I'd be a little skittish myself if I found myself in such a compromising position; who knew what I would resort to? We struck up an email relationship, "Vivian" and I, discussing everything from our families to our childhoods to our favorite authors. Of course, everything David told me as Vivian was false, but I understood his need to talk with me a little, to find out what kind of person I was. I realized quickly that foremost among his thoughts were fears of sexual harassment charges, or public humiliation. The notion kind of surprised me-- considering how strongly I felt about him the entire time, those were the last thoughts on my mind. In retrospect, it was quite stupid of me, talking with and being drawn into the world of this ridiculous alter ego he cooked up, but it grew out of my loneliness at the time, and a growing need to find out more about this hidden, kinkier side of a man who I'd found so sensitive, endearing, and while sexy, extremely vanilla before I'd read his story. And it wasn't just the email back and forth, and eventually the chatting that kept my interest. What really got me hooked were the stories. It didn't stop at the first story. Although it was never discussed (I learned the hard way earlier that this wasn't a man you confronted directly with your worries, questions, thoughts, comments-or anything at all, really) oftentimes, after we chatted, or mailed one another, sharing particularly intimate details of our lives, or qualities of character, I'd find a story written with one of the themes from our discussion... I found these beyond entertaining at the beginning; especially the one where I was the naughty schoolgirl flirting with, then taught a lesson by, the professor who was twice my age. There were oftentimes Dom/Sub themes to these stories. I'd found male Dom fare intriguing for some time, and the idea that he too had a taste for this kink made him that much more desirable to me. Maybe this was the man who I could finally explore this side of myself with. I thought if I could just put up with his email/story game until he was comfortable enough, maybe trusted me enough, to play a little in the real world, then maybe he could be what I'd been waiting for sexually. His writing expressed such passion, such a deep erotic nature... quite frankly, his writing made me more wet, and more aroused than anything ever had in my life. Despite the silly game we were playing, I wanted him even more than before... wanted to sit down face to face and talk with him about what was going on. Find out who HE really was, not this stupid Vivian character... and let him know who I really was. At one point, I even told him about a period of my life that I'd never talked to anyone about... the most heartbreaking things I'd ever gone through, hoping that by sharing this with him, he'd understand that I was trusting him with this, and that if he felt the same, then he could in turn trust me, and if he was just fucking around with my head, that at least he'd have the heart to at least stop toying with me after reading my sob story. I was really starting to get emotionally involved here, and more intrigued about David by the day... I felt like I had to do something drastic to either bring this into the real world, or end it.