The story I am about to share did actually occur between Beth and I. My memories are so fond. I want to say that Beth and I talk several times a year, still, on the phone. She has moved on, and so have I.

We had been together on the Internet for three or four months. She was very becoming; I was hopeful. She was 38, I was 48. She was divorced for two years and I for five. She wass from North Carolina, me from Colorado. We had chanced upon one another in Excite.com, in a chat room-it was my first foray into the Internet, in 1996. We visited before a hurricane a few times ... I forget which one. It may have been Hurricane Andrew, or one of the big ones. She said she'd have to move inland and would talk to me later. I waited, with anticipation.

After 2 weeks, or so, she was back. Said she was ok and seemed ready to resume ... she was anxious to talk, so was I.

After a few weeks, she wanted to talk on the phone. I had been through a nasty divorce and wasn't really desirous of anything too serious, but, so had she. She was as tentative as was I and I finally I told her she could have my phone number and call it to get my answering machine and listen to my voice and see what she thought.

When I got home that night, there were five lights blinking. That meant that there were five calls. But, there were no messages. Later, I found out she had called, from North Carolina and listened to my message five times, just to hear my voice before she actually called to talk. In the evening the phone rang. It was Beth. A Pleasant, most feminine voice, directed my attention to the conversation. We chatted for an hour Exchanging pleasantries. Over the course of the next few months, maybe a year ... we talked by phone and on the computer ... and it became graphic.

She was suppressed. She was a woman who had been in a 20-year marriage without gratification, and me, a man free from one of 25 years and looking. She was not sure; I was not either. Slowly, we teased each other into more.

She slowly opened up, and I was most eager. She told me of stolen glances at men, when she shopped, at their crotch, at their butt, at their demeanor ... while I told her of more lurid things ... of my imaginings of young ladies at the checkout counter with their braless tops, of their short skirts, of their long and luscious legs. She responded so deliciously.

We had Internet sex. She said that she had masturbated to my words. I certainly did, to her responses. After another week, she wanted to talk on the phone. So did I. But it was her call.

The phone rang and it was Beth. Husky, mature, friendly..."Bill ... Hi, this is Beth"

"Beth," I am over the edge," I said. Those were my words.

"Bill, me too." She replied.

We had phone sex. Over the next 3 months, we did this every day. Sometimes we talked two or three times in a day. My phone bill skyrocketed. We talked for many hours. She became aggressive, desirous to explore all of her repressed sexuality.

Finally, in November of 1998 I bought her a ticket to fly to Denver. Both of us were so primed. We had been enmeshed in something that had transfixed our very lives. Nowhere could either of us go without the other ... we had to see one another. We were not strangers though we had not met. She had sent me pictures, and I had sent her mine. This was about to happen.

So, Beth flew into Denver. The atmosphere between us was so charged after a year of sexual phone exploration that it seemed like neither of us could wait.