Authors: Susan Lyons
My name is Suzanne, she typed. I live in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, and I’m single. How about you?
She clicked SEND before she could have second thoughts, then shut down her computer. “All right, Mouse, the keyboard’s all yours.”
As she tumbled back into bed, she wondered how caveman would react to her garbled message, such a peculiar mix of sexuality and practicality. Of outrageous69 and boring-girl. On Monday night, Jax got home from the office around eleven. He shared the apartment with Tod, a visual merchandiser—i.e., window dresser—at Saks Fifth Avenue, and Levi, an accountant with Rothstein Kass. One thing you had to say for him and his roommates: They worked in some of the classiest businesses in town.
Another thing you had to say: They weren’t exactly homemakers. He cleared Chinese takeout containers off the rickety coffee table in front of the wide-screen TV, and crammed the empties into the overflowing garbage bin under the kitchen sink. Then he opened the fridge door, and grinned. Someone had remembered to buy beer. He cracked open a can and headed through to his bedroom, where he stripped off his suit jacket and tie and glanced at his computer.
Since Saturday night, he’d monitored his new caveman e-mail account obsessively. By now he was figuring it wasn’t really his blonde. Still, he wished she’d reply, so he could stop wasting his time this way.
Oh, what the hell, just once more. No way would he get to sleep until he did.
And there she was.
He grew hard as he read her words. Yeah, he sure as hell remembered his fingers threading through her golden curls, teasing the moist, swollen flesh below. This time he ignored his hard-on. Instead, he began to type. Suzanne. What a perfect name for such a beautiful, sexy woman. My name is Jaxon. I’m single too. And as it turns out, we’re almost neighbors. I’m in San Francisco. It would be easy to come visit you—or you could come here, if you wanted. What was he doing? Wasn’t he the guy who never took time off work? And yet . . .
Come. God, I want to come again, with you. I want to hear you come, feel you come around me. To caress your lovely breasts, see the pleasure on your face as I touch you. Just the thought of it . . .
He stopped typing. Should he be saying this stuff? Would she be offended? No, of course not, not outrageous69. He resumed: . . . makes me hard. I want to taste you again, Suzanne. Everywhere . . .
He broke off again, so aroused he felt like he was going to burst.
He stared at the screen. A first draft. He should edit it; he always edited things before he sent them.
But that was the lawyer side of him. Tonight he was just a man. A horny man. Quickly he typed, Say you’ll see me. I want more sexy memories.
He clicked SEND and stared at the screen.
Suzanne. Her name was Suzanne.
Suzanne couldn’t get back to sleep. After an hour of trying, she flicked on the bedside light, tossed back the covers and again evicted Mouse from the keyboard.
Even knowing the odds were slim, Suzanne’s breath quickened as the computer started up. She accessed her outrageous69
account and found three new e-mails, but none were from caveman. Idly, she skimmed, shaking her head in bemusement. Cave sex sure seemed to turn a lot of guys’ cranks. Damn, she hadn’t cancelled the personals ad. She found the instructions Jenny had given her, and deleted her ad. Just as she was about to exit from e-mail, a message popped up on her screen. From caveman! She gripped the mouse with a shaking hand and clicked the message open. Jaxon. What a striking, unusual name. And he was single. Suzanne started to read on, when a thought occurred to her. Was he still on-line?
Hurriedly, she clicked REPLY, then typed, Are you there, Jaxon? and clicked SEND.
Then she went back to his message and read it, feeling her nipples bead. She pressed her legs together, savoring the burn of arousal between them. Good God, this man could turn her on, even via a computer. More than any other guy had done in person. Another message popped into her in-box. I’m here. I can’t believe it’s you, Suzanne.
She beamed with delight. A real—or virtually real—conversation. Quickly she typed: It’s me. Wow, San Francisco, I’ve only been there once, but it’s a terrific city. She wanted to ask a thousand things. What did he do, and how did he like his job? What were his parents like, did he have siblings? What did he do in his spare time? Did he like animals? What should she ask first?
Her fingers faltered. Mouse regarded her with a steady gaze that seemed almost amused. Like he knew she was all set to gush like a teenager who’d just met a boy who might turn out to be The One.
Suzanne frowned. What was she thinking? This was not a teenage crush, nor was this her Mr. Cleaver—and she didn’t want him to be. She was way too young to be thinking about marriage.
What was it she really wanted from caveman? Jaxon?
Sex. Excitement. Proof she could be sexy.
A new message popped into her in-box. Suzanne? Are you there? Did I go too far? Sorry if I offended you. Now she knew how the conversation was supposed to go. She deleted her unsent comment about San Francisco. Like Jenny had said, skip the travelogue and get to the good stuff. That’s what he’d expect. That’s what he wanted. You didn’t offend me, you got me hot! Just like you do every time I remember what we did in that cave. SEND. His reply was immediate. That was one wild afternoon!
She paused, fingers poised over the keyboard. She’d held herself out to be outrageous69. Could she deliver?
If the gals were only here to help.
The thought of the four of them brainstorming the wording of erotic e-mail made her giggle, which in turn relaxed her. This should be easy. All she had to do was fantasize about being with him.
But first . . . On one side of her desk, family faces smiled at her from picture frames: her mom and dad in the garden; her sister, Bethany, with her husband and two kids surrounded by Christmas clutter. Suzanne turned the photos facedown. Now there was only one face left, this one feline, gazing at her with a quizzical expression. She lifted the grey cat from her desktop and he gave a squall of protest as she set him on the floor. “Sorry, Mouse. Go sleep with Melody and Zorro. Trust me, you don’t want to know about this.” Then she began to type.
Remember how we walked up the hill, holding hands? Both naked, both aroused. Then we slipped inside the cave and it was so dark I could barely see you.
Imagine we’re there. Feel me, Jaxon. We’re kissing and our bodies are pressing together and then, suddenly, you lift me. I grip your shoulders with my arms and lock my legs around your waist, and we’re still kissing. Are you with me?
She clicked SEND.
Waited.
Double-clicked eagerly on his response.
Oh yeah, I’m with you. I’m with you, and as hard as I was that afternoon.
Wow! Was he, or was he just saying that to be sexy?
No, this was her caveman. Of course he was hard. Beautifully, achingly hard. For her.
And she too was intensely turned on, not just by the memory of Crete but at the thought of Jaxon, at his computer in San Francisco, aroused long distance. By her. Her words, and the memories they conjured.
She hadn’t felt such a sense of female power since that afternoon four years ago. Yes, in this moment she really was outrageous69. You are naked, aren’t you? she typed.
His reply came. I could be. Do you want me naked?
Always! She typed back. But undress slowly. Undo your shirt buttons one at a time, and pretend those are my fingers, parting your shirt, slipping inside.
Shirt. Was he even wearing a shirt with buttons? Or maybe a T-shirt? She hadn’t the slightest idea how the guy dressed. He answered, Okay, but what I’d rather be doing is reaching inside your shirt. In my mind I can see those high, firm breasts of yours, each a perfect handful.
He liked her breasts. Even though, to be honest, you could fit the two of them together into one of those amazing hands of his. Speaking of a handful, she typed, would you like to feel my hands on you . . . She stopped again, knowing exactly where she wanted her hands. If she left the message as it was, he’d be bound to pick up the innuendo, but . . . What the hell, this was Jaxon and he made her feel sexy and daring.
. . . your cock? Unzip your pants, pull them down, take off your underwear. And touch yourself, Jaxon, wrap a hand around that beautiful big erection, and imagine it’s my hand. Sliding up and down, squeezing but not too hard.
She stared at the message on the screen. As much as she and the gals might have joked about gi-normous dicks, she’d never in her life typed the word “cock” before.
Oh, what the hell. SEND.
A message came back. And you put your hand between your legs, down among those pretty gold curls. Those are my fingers stroking, opening you. Are you wet for me?
She stared at the screen. Then down at her pink cotton pajamas, printed with a pattern of Siamese cats. Should she take them off? Did he think she was naked?
Her hand went tentatively to the drawstring bow at her waist, then stopped. No, she couldn’t do this. Not here, with her parents sleeping just across the yard, her own cats on the bed. This was definitely not a cave on Crete.
But maybe . . .
Her hand slid lower, outside the soft cotton, down the seam that ran between her legs, trying to imagine it was his hand. Her body throbbed in response. She closed her eyes. Jaxon’s hand, so dark against the pale pink fabric. Jaxon’s fingers stroking the seam, creating friction against the tender flesh beneath. She moaned, clenching her thighs against his hand. Her hand. Their hand. She wanted to keep the hand there, but, even more, she wanted to type to him.
Yes, I’m wet for you, she typed. But I want more than your hand. Remember how it was that first time in the cave, when my body was wrapped around yours? Remember how hard and hungry your cock was? How you plunged inside me, where I was all wet and wanting? That’s what I want now. You, inside me. Suzanne’s muscles clenched as she imagined the act she was describing. She wanted to press her hand between her legs again, but right now she was inspired, on a roll, feeling like that sexy woman in the cave. She squirmed on her chair as she began to type again.
Now feel me sliding up and down on you, lifting my body, then moving down just as you thrust up. You’re so strong, I don’t know how you can hold me like this, but your strength is such a turn-on. Everything about you excites me, and now all my sensations are centering as you plunge into me even deeper and faster. You’re so big and you fill me completely. The friction as you move is almost unbearable and I can feel the tension building and building and I want, I need you to give that one final thrust and pour yourself into me. Do it, Jaxon.
Come now!
Breathless, she stopped typing and reached one shaking hand toward the mouse. Did she dare send this? It was almost pornographic. But then, what healthy red-blooded male didn’t respond to pornography? She clicked the button. And waited.
She reread his last message, then her reply. Her right hand hovered near the mouse, but her left one slid between her thighs and she caressed herself through her pajamas, imagining his touch.
He still hadn’t replied. Had she gone too far? She removed her hand from between her legs. Worrying about his response was a turnoff.
Finally she saw the envelope icon. Hurriedly, she doubleclicked. Jesus, Suzanne.
I’m having trouble thinking what to say.
Oops, she’d gone overboard, blown her chance with him. In fact I’m having trouble forming a coherent thought. Woman, you just blew my mind.
And that’s not all you blew. You just made me come so hard it hurt.
Suzanne let out a sigh, made up of equal parts relief, pride and arousal. Now there was a turn-on!
And now it’s your turn. Let’s concentrate on your pleasure now. Are you ready?
She groaned. Was she? Could she really do what he was suggesting?
Yes. SEND.
Then be patient, give me a few minutes and I promise it’ll be worth the wait.
She waited nervously. What was he typing? When the message came, she sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly, then clicked it open.
Here we go, lover. Is your hand between your legs? Mine is there, in my mind, and let me tell you what it’s doing. She drew a shaky breath and let her hand drift down again. It’s stroking your silky, satiny, hot swollen flesh. As I stroke, your body moves with my hand, pressing against me, letting me know how you feel, telling me how you want to be touched. We’re both totally focused on the place where my hand meets your body. I’m limp from that earth-shattering orgasm you gave me, yet amazingly I feel my own body stir to life as I see the way you respond to me.
Oh! He’d left the Crete scenario and was creating something new. It’s the sexiest thing in the world, feeling how much you want my touch.
All I want to do is pleasure you, and your body is squirming, pressing, your hips are lifting and circling, you’re telling me with every move that the tension is building.
I slip a finger inside you, feel your muscles contract around me, your body rock against me. I’m hard again and I know that’s what you really want, so I take my finger out, suck it so I can taste you, then ease my cock into you, and your pussy is so tight and hot and wet all around me, and you’re moaning, those little sighing, panting moans you make. God, Suzanne, I love those sexy sounds you make.
I reach down and with my thumb I press your clit and your body bucks, and now I’m circling that swollen nub as I thrust into you faster and harder, and you can feel the pressure building, the climax approaching, and you twist your body against me, demanding the release you need. And I want to give it to you, Suzanne. I want you to come. Now, Suzanne.
“Jaxon!” She cried out his name as her body clutched and spasmed.
* * *
“This had better be good,” Rina grumbled as she dropped into the last chair at the sidewalk table at Sophie’s Cosmic Café.
“I had to move a clarinet lesson and deal with the dratted bridge traffic.” She lived on the North Shore, over the Lion’s Gate Bridge.
“Well, I had to reschedule a client,” Ann said. “And catch a cab from Georgia and Burrard at noon, along with three dozen other businesspeople.”