At the line where hard, wet sand turns to soft, I sit down to type back.
Stone,
It seems we do have a problem. You know it’s dangerous to write. Words make a connection grow. We should probably take some time before jumping into… Wait, what are we jumping into? Are we even jumping? Gah, don’t you hate when an unexplainable connection doesn’t have a label?
A hat trick: Something like a player scoring three times in the same game. I noticed that the internet tells me that you had many hat tricks in your career. You’ve seen me two times now. The retreat in Lake Spark with Commander Gloria, and Seattle. You haven’t quite scored a hat trick yet when it comes to us.
How is your Illinois weather? I’m in the high 70s, with sun, thank you very much. Are you freezing yet?
-Harlow
Sighing yet again, I decide to head back home. Get down a few chapters about a billionaire who gets his secretary pregnant. Sometimes my plots are ridiculous, but it’s the sex scenes and happy endings that are the escape that everyone needs. This billionaire is demanding. He pulls her hair and won’t stop until she comes, before he stuffs his cock inside of her. What he doesn’t know is his office affair, where he bends her over his desk while he’s on a conference call, will end up with a little surprise that she doesn’t plan on telling him, because he’s a cocky asshole who doesn’t want a family. Pfff, that will change by chapter twenty.
It's the next morning and three chapters later, and I notice that Stone emailed early. Does he sleep?
Harlow,
Huh, you could be my hat trick as you’re someone who is one long game. Never thought of that, but it makes me a little more resolute. It just means that I have to see you again. I’ve thought of hopping on a plane to surprise you. But I’ve already surprised you once. I think the apple is now in your basket, in terms of taking steps.
Low 40s here, but it doesn’t matter because late autumn is too breathtaking to complain about weather. The leaves are in their last weeks of orange, yellow, and red. They will turn to that weird brownish-gray color soon and be extra crunchy under your feet. Then the town becomes colorful, with holiday lights and overdone shop windows with little trains riding around fake cotton snow. The farmer’s market gets vicious about who sells the best candles, stockings, and cookies. We’re not even at Thanksgiving yet, but the battle is on.
It's my niece's first Christmas. I need to outdo Isla’s brother for the uncle-of-the-year award. Presents for sure, but my secret weapon is a stocking with Nora’s name embroidered from the knitting club in town. For my piece de resistance, I’m getting her an overly expensive snow globe with dancing bears inside. I’m going to nail it.
Lake Spark is a perfect time to visit… hint, hint.
-Stone
I laugh out loud. This guy is sometimes ridiculous, but it lights up any day. And the undertone that I should visit is something I’ve thought about. But is an attachment to someone where it can’t really go anywhere a good idea?
It will fuck up somehow. We have too many miles between us, and the possibility that I’ll freak out when he’s sliding into me and making me see stars. I never know when it’ll hit me. That feeling of constraint in my chest that causes me to gasp for air.
Stone could never be just a friend. Friends don’t kiss or want to strip one another naked. We’re moving slowly in an unknown direction with no map. But then I imagine the moment I could snap and give into this unbearable feeling that I need more of him physically. I’m confident he would take his time, kissing every inch before his tongue finds my pussy, and I comb my fingers through his hair as he’s doing it. I would beg him to be inside me, and he would comply.
I shake my head of the fantasy and decide to hold off replying. Until two days later.
Stone,
Shall I already order the trophy for uncle of the year? Damn, you’re going to extremes. I think I need to follow this journey until the big day. You do realize that she has no clue what’s going on. You’ll need to take photos as proof and tell her when she’s older.You’ve turned into a Lake Spark local if you are overly enthusiastic for the holidays.
I got your hint. It makes me ponder. Oh God, it does.
If you could get inside my head, then you’d have to touch yourself and think of me.
-Harlow
I hit send, then realize what the hell I just wrote. I’ve initiated a world that I probably shouldn’t, leading us through a labyrinth of more confusion, like fuel thrown on this emblazing fire.
Bad me. Very bad me.
Almost as bad as the email I get a few hours later.
Harlow,
Have you picked out a gravestone for me yet? I think I just died.
You’ve shared the secret of your thoughts. One that I was confident I already knew, but that’s beside the point.
You think of me. How my mouth would glide along your skin and cause a ripple through your body. Your lips would part, unsure but wanting, which is why you would let me drag the edge of your shirt up with my teeth while my fingers sneak under the waistband of your jeans and slip into your drenched pussy to stroke. You’d clutch tight to my hair because my tongue wouldn’t leave you until you shudder underneath me.
