Chapter 5

Bob didn't get her email until after his second sleep cycle. He happened to come on duty at ten in the morning, and his job sheet was slim that day, so he had ample time to be ready when noon came and it was time to "take a look at Cheyenne Mountain." That was what he had decided he would say if anyone came in, or asked for some reason why he was focused on Colorado.

She came out looking up and waving. He had zoomed in just in case she did something like that, and felt his groin tighten as he saw she was smiling. She didn't even have her top on this time, and when she lay down, she made it obvious she was playing with her breasts. He could see she was pinching her nipples, and he got stiff within fifteen seconds.

And she was doing it, knowing he might be watching.

He watched her for half an hour before he tore himself away and did some actual work. When he looked again, she was gone. He logged onto the internet as an anonymous user and sent her an email right away.

Riley. You're wrong. You're not only beautiful, you're hot. I know I shouldn't say that, but it's true. You know that song, where Aretha says "You make me feel like a natural woman?" Well, you make me feel like a man. It sounds silly to say thank you, but that's all I can do. You are giving me a really special gift, and I'm not taking it for granted. I wish we weren't fifteen hundred miles from each other. Is that creepy? I don't want to creep you out. But I want you to know you're not ordinary. You're just ... Wow! I will confess something to you, but please don't hold it against me. I went to the Bahamas one time on one of my vacations. I didn't meet any women or anything. I saw a lot of them, but I didn't talk to any. But when I saw you today I had this fantasy that I had met you there and that you'd asked me to rub some suntan lotion on your back. Yes, let's just say your back. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to go to the Caribbean again without thinking about that. Just because of you, I'll probably have to take my future vacations in Alaska or somewhere. I'm kidding. But I had to tell you that.

Bob

After her little exhibition (and she now thought of it as just that - she was exhibiting herself to him), she went back inside and to her computer. She was excited by her very uncharacteristic willingness to expose herself to this fascinating stranger. It made no sense to her, and yet it was the most exciting thing that had happened to her in years.

Part of the oddness of the whole situation was that she knew this whole crazy "relationship" was good for her. Not only was she tickled emotionally that a man found her attractive, those feelings served her craft as well. She always did better work when she was fired up. Her drawings had always been explicit, particularly when she worked in pen and ink, where thousands of tiny lines and dots were the manual equivalent of pixels on a monitor. But they appeared on the page so much more effortlessly than when she worked with digital materials. Curtis was with Bessie, like he was most days after an early lunch, so she could work uninterrupted. She felt a little guilty about using some of her work time to tease a man she'd never seen, and never would, but that guilt was assuaged when she learned how worked up she got, thinking that Bob might be watching her play with her breasts.

She had resisted masturbating out in the back yard, but it had been difficult. Part of her whispered in her mind that doing that would be slutty behavior, and that he would love it. The part that kept her from doing it was the part that said, "You'd love it too, Riley." Doing slutty things didn't bother her at all. She'd done anything Professor Peterson had suggested, and he'd had a vivid imagination. She had once blown him under the table in a booth at a Cracker Barrel, while he ate his dessert. But she couldn't do things like that for Bob. She hardly knew him! Her mind went back to other things she'd done for Chuck.

Remembering that, she decided she was a slut. She was just a slut with a positive self-image, but she was a slut all the same. She was quite sure that, if there was a man in her life, she'd happily do for him what she'd done for Chuck. It had been as much fun for her as it had for him, after all. At least until she found out he didn't really love her. That part had sucked.

She let her un-sated sexual energy fuel her drawings for an hour. There was no doubt whatsoever that her erotic drawings were better if she worked on them while she was horny. Then she finally took a break to masturbate.

She liked to get her jollies naked, and she was in that condition when she decided to check her email before continuing, just to see if Bob had seen her today. If he had, she knew it would enhance her session. When there was a message from him, her mind whispered "slut" when she felt her pussy dampen even more.

She read it. He was sweet, rather than vulgar, something she hadn't had a lot of experience with. She suddenly wished they weren't fifteen hundred miles away either. She wondered what it would be like to sit and talk with a sweet guy, who thought she was hot. Chuck had sent her emails too, but his emails had been filthy. By any standard, they had been just filthy.

Nobody had ever sent her a love letter. Bob's email didn't rise anywhere near that level, but it was the closest anybody had ever come, and it made her wish she could see him ... maybe flirt with him a little ... see what might come from building a relationship with a man who wasn't a sex fiend.

She read his message again, and then went to sprawl on her bed. She wanted two orgasms today, and she got the first one by simply rubbing her clit in circles with two stiffened fingers until she was there, whereupon she whipped those fingers sideways, back and forth, as fast as she could. The ecstasy was perfect, though not earth shaking. It got her ready for her Rabbit, which she pushed as deep as she could, the little auxiliary buzzer planted firmly on the clit she had just abused. The primary spike rotated inside her, and she didn't have to move at all for things to feel just wonderful.

For perhaps the hundredth time, she told herself she'd find a sex shop and get a longer vibrator, that would reach deeper than the Rabbit did. Even as she thought that, she knew she wouldn't. When a woman went into a place like that, she was stripped naked and fucked to death in the minds of every male in the place, and there were always lots of guys hanging around places like that. She'd only stayed in the one she'd visited in Texas for ten minutes before she left, shuddering and shaken. She'd felt stupid, but she'd never gone back into a brick and mortar "toy" shop. She'd gotten her Rabbit online. The Fed Ex guy who delivered it to her Texas address had smirked, and mentioned (hopefully?) that his girlfriend did business with the same company. It had been creepy. She didn't want to feel creepy about her current delivery driver. He delivered all her art supplies, so she saw him regularly.

The Rabbit delivered a different kind of orgasm, one that made her roll to her side, and draw up her knees. It was the kind that left her panting for breath, even though she hadn't really exerted herself in getting it. The Rabbit had done all the work.

Within a minute of grinding to the end of that wonderful feeling, though, the Rabbit was lying on the bedspread, forgotten, and she was back to work, still naked. She'd work that way for probably another hour, and then put something on, slowly getting dressed until it was time to go get Curtis from Bessie's.

She waited until it was that time before she wrote back to Bob.

I wish we weren't fifteen hundred miles apart either. Is that crazy? We hardly know each other. Why do I have such a strong feeling that you're a nice guy when you have spied on me multiple times and invaded my privacy, and probably even broken laws? Not to mention having naughty fantasies about me. I don't trust men well, Bob, but for some unfathomable reason I want to trust you. Of course it could just be hormones. I have to admit the things you say make me feel good. Jumpy, actually. Knowing you might be watching makes me feel very naughty, and knowing you saw me teasing you today made me ... Never mind what I did. We don't know each other well enough for that. See what I mean? Here I am teasing you, just like I teased you outside. Why am I doing that? I don't know. All I know is that I'm glad you came into my life, as wacky as our relationship is. If you were here, I'd let you rub lotion onto my ... back. I'd better cut this off before I become a total slut. See you tomorrow.

Riley

When she hit the send button, she felt like rubbing again. She took a deep breath, shook her head, and went to get her son.

"What's up with you?" asked Jerry, as he relieved Bob.

"Up with me? Nothing," said Bob, who realized he was grinning as he said it.

"You meet a woman or something?" asked Jerry. Jerry was tall, and broad, and worked out all the time. He dated four or five women, all of whom knew about each other and didn't care. If Jerry gave them part of his time, that was good enough for them. Maybe they were all just into casual sex with no attachments. Bob didn't know. All he knew was that the guy was not only good with women, he was an amazing hacker to boot. More than once Bob had wished he was Jerry Springman.

"Sort of," admitted Bob. "I've been talking to her on Facebook."

"Old friend?" asked Jerry, sounding only mildly interested.

"I don't even want to think about how long we've known each other," quipped Bob. He shouldn't have said anything at all. If you gave bits of information to another analyst, you never knew if they'd hone their skills by presenting you with every scrap of information they'd been able to fill in the blanks with. He'd done it himself.

That ended it, though, because Bob didn't hang around. He had 48 hours to spend any way he liked, and anywhere he liked, and he wasn't going to waste it talking to Jerry. His only regret was that he wouldn't be able to tune into Colorado for two days.

He'd written back to Riley, telling her he'd be off, and that he wouldn't be able to see her. He'd suggested that his world was crashing down around his ears as a result, but then told her he was kidding, and that he could manage his "Riley addiction" without any mind-altering drugs. He also said he was looking forward to being able to see her again the following Wednesday, and that he was going to think about her until then.

The first thing he did was go shopping. It wasn't to buy anything specific, really. He just liked walking around in the mall among so many people. He spent so much time alone at his terminal that he liked being in the crush of people, and hearing the noises they made as they lived their lives.

He wandered into a store called "The Wizard's Den" and was reminded of a picture Riley had sent him, when he had asked what she did for a living. She'd sent him the book cover of the dragon eating the virgin sacrifice. He'd been knocked out by the intricacy of the drawing, and had told her he was going to commission her to draw something for him, as soon as he could decide what.

He looked at dozens of figurines of wizards, holding staffs with glass balls on top, or swinging the staff, as if they were in battle. One had a wizard waving his hands over some indefinable object on a table. They were quite good. On impulse he approached the clerk, a pretty young woman who was pierced in at least five or six places on her face.

"Do you have anything that depicts a female wizard?" he asked.

She blinked several times as she thought.

"Well, most people would refer to a female as a mage. That gets around the sexism of calling a woman a wizardess unless she completes an apprenticeship under the supervision of a Wizard. But so few women do, because the apprenticeship is so long, you know? If she did, she'd be called a wizard too, but most women call themselves mages, to avoid the stereotype that goes along with the term 'wizardess.'"

She stopped, and appeared to expect a reaction from Bob, who was confused by the apparent seriousness this strange young woman took, concerning 'wizardry.'

"I see," he said, carefully. "Do you have any mage figurines?"

"Male, or female?" she asked.

"Female," he replied.

"Not many," she said immediately. "And that's wrong. Women are completely under-represented in the wizard world. It's not right. Even in books, women get the shaft. Like in the Soldier Son trilogy Robin Hobb wrote? Did you read that one?"

She waited for an answer, so he had to shake his head, telling her he had not.