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I want you to do whatever you want with me
Will
Oh, I will, Bridget. One of these days I fucking will. You can count on that.
Another swipeof my fingers over my clit and I nearly explode, having to squeeze my eyes shut to keep my release. I grit my teeth, every muscle in my body as tense as a bowstring.
Bridget
I need to come.
Please let me come
Will
Normally I’d make you wait, but I’m so fucking hard, so close to coming just thinking about you like this, alone in bed, getting off to thoughts of me
Fuck, baby. Come. Come all over your hand but pretend it’s my face.
“Oh my god! Will!”I cry out into my apartment, breaking into a million little pieces and being put back together in the same second. I come harder than I’ve ever come by myself, writhing alone on my mattress as thoughts of Will—this faceless, incredible man—fill every corner and crevice of my mind. An electric current travels through my body, every nerve on my skin a live wire aching to be touched. I’m sticky with sweat and come, and gasping for breath as I try to recover.
Will
I need you to fucking tell me what you taste like
I’m gonna dream about this for months, Bridget. For fucking months.
And suddenly it’slike a bucket of cold water is thrown over my overheated, sweaty body.
What the hell did I justdo?
The fall from the high comes just as quickly as it arrived, crashing me into reality as I become aware of the magnitude of what just happened: I just sexted the person I’ve grown closest to, and potentially ruined what’s felt like the most honest and dependable friendship I’ve ever had. Except he’s also a complete stranger.
I am a fucking idiot.
With a groan, I roll over onto my side, my jeans open and just below my hips, and cry quiet tears into my pillow. I throw my phone onto the floor, ignoring it as a symphony of incessant vibrations coming from my phone fills the room.
Gripping my pillow with both hands, I whisper four words I never thought I’d ever say in relation to Will: “Please, stop texting me.”
WILL
He’s never felt more alone; never felt less lonely.
6
IT’S ABOUT TIME
Last night plays over and over in my head on a loop, going over every moment, every single interaction I’ve had throughout the day, making it nearly impossible to exist.
What happened between us was a mistake—how could it not have been? Two complete strangers who’ve never seen each other in real life should never have done anything like that. That and the fact that Will was my confidant, my virtual bestie, made it so incredibly wrong. But it happened so quickly, I couldn’t have stopped myself even if I wanted to. And if I’m being honest with myself, I didn’twantto stop myself.
After I finally pulled myself together by taking a shower and consuming about twenty pounds more of Valentine’s Day candy, I managed to fall asleep. It was a restless night, filled with nebulous dreams of me and different versions of Will sitting outside a café somewhere, laughing over coffee and dessert during springtime as cherry blossoms blow around us in the chilly air under a warming sun. Me and Will rolling around in my bed as he and the morning sun kiss every inch of my skin at the same time. His lips soft as they explore, strong when he’s in between my legs, shoulders pushing them open as he makes me come harder than he did last night with just a few words.
Sometimes he’s a pale, short king with bright blue eyes, or a beefy gym rat. Other times, he’s the perfect guy you’d find if you googled “tall, dark, and handsome” or the adorable boy next door type. Regardless of what he looks like, however, he’s alwaysamazing, every version of him absolutely perfect and sweet and kind. I know that I’ll like him, no matter what he looks like. And I ache for that moment; ache for that place where I can see and touch him, where I don’t have to keep playing the imagination game, and we can just hang like two old friends.
I want that. I want that more than anything these days. Despite having a few friends here, New York City can get lonely, and I’m hungry to have the easy relationship Will and I have virtually, but in person. And I know it’s as simple as asking him to meet up somewhere, but maybe it’s for that reason alone that Ishouldn’t. Risking this odd companionship and relationship over just wanting to touch him—or fuck, at least just see his face for once—seems a bit foolhardy—especially after what we did last night. We still haven’t talked today—something completely out of the norm for us—leaving me terrified that I’ve already ruined things. And maybe I’m being stupid; maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal to him and I should trust our friendship more and?—
The slap of a manila folder on my desk brings my recurring daydream and concerns to a violent halt. I jump about a foot in my chair, almost knocking my Diet Coke over my entire office set-up.
