“Brooke, I’ll talk to you later. My mind is running a million miles an hour now.”
“Okay, well, message me if you need me.”
Tossing my phone aside, I open my laptop and type out all my thoughts as they come to me. It’s amazing how sometimes talking things out with someone is all it takes to get the creative juices flowing. The more I type, the more excited about the story I become. Random scenes play in my head, and I write them out so I don’t run the risk of losing any of these ideas.
Time passes as I lose myself to this developing storyline, and when I come to a standstill, I see two hours have gone by. I’ve written four pages of notes as it pertains to the plot, scenes, and different characters along with their names, traits, and background details. Mindlessly, I pick up my mug, take a sip, and immediately spit the cold, stale coffee back into the cup.
“Oh, gross,” I mumble and then walk over to the sink to wash out the mug so I can make another cup of fresh coffee.
Returning to my laptop, I save the document and open my email to send it to Brooke, as I do with everything I write. She will typically read what I send in the evenings once she has her son put to bed, and then she will message me to discuss. Doing this helps me stay on track and it’s always good to get a second opinion.
Once the document is sent, I scroll through the mass of emails that came through while I was in Vegas. There are over a hundred of them, so I flag the important ones I need to come back to and delete all the random ones. As I’m going through, I stop when I see several in a row from FetLife.
I click on the first one to see I’ve received a private message from someone on that site. The other two emails are also notifications of users who have sent me messages. It’s a little strange that anyone would message me since I provided no personal information, not even a photo. For all they know, I could be a wretched, morbidly obese woman who has a bad case of acne.
I stare at the message in the email I have open.
ALEC107: Why so secretive?
Curiosity gets the best of me, and I click the link, which takes me to the login screen on the website. I enter my username and password, and when I hit the submit button, I’m directed into a private chat room where I can respond. I notice the message was sent to me at five o’clock this morning from the timestamp.
My fingers hover over the keyboard as I think of a reply. This should be easy, considering I’m a best-selling author and all, but I’m unsure of what to say, so I just type the first thing that comes to me.
ANONYMOUS: Secretive?
I watch the screen for a minute, and then open another window to check my social media sites. As I’m reading a message concerning a book signing I’ve been asked to attend, an alert dings from the private chat.
ALEC107: No picture. Not a member of any groups. No information. All I know is that you’re a 32-year-old submissive female who lives in Boston. I question the accuracy of that though.
Before I respond, I notice the small photo next to his profile name and click on it. A new window pops up and I’m taken to his profile page. His photo is a candid shot of him standing on a pier. I doubt it’s even him, because no one that good-looking would be on a site like this. He probably just catfished the photo, but I’ll pretend it’s him instead of the troll I’m sure he really is.
I then read his profile stats:
Gender: Male
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Age: 41
Hometown: Boston, MA
Fetishes: Breath Play (giving), Impact Play (giving), Munch, Play Parties, Rough Sex, Sensory Deprivation (giving), Swinging, Subspace (giving), Topspace (receiving), Voyeurism
Holy shit! I don’t even know what half of those things are. I click back to his photo, and I know this can’t be him because he looks way too normal to be into this kind of stuff. Hell, not that I live under a rock or anything, but I always associated this kind of stuff with movies and books—never with real life. At least not the life I’ve been living.
ANONYMOUS: It was late when I made the profile. I was tired.