Slick as Ides (2 page)

He shakes his hand.

“Still trying to lose weight.” He stares at it with longing, though, and then he pats his flat belly. He’s still trying his damnedest to form what used to be flab, into six-pack abs.

I push the can out of sight so I’m not tempting him. “Oh, sorry. I guess I forgot.” I fight off a grin.

“You did not. You suck at lying. This is your way of saying sorry for stressing me out,” he says, smiling back, but clearly trying to look mad.

“And you suck at being angry with me.”

“That’s because for some piss-ass reason I think you know what you’re doing.” He pouts over the specs, his eyes roving over it once more.

“It’s all sound. This will work, and it’s not that you think I know what I’m doing. It’s because I’m your friend, and you’re mine. We need each other.”

Out of nowhere, his hands reach out, and he hugs me.

I bite back the scream, building in my throat and manage to shrug out of his hold. “All right now, let’s not get carried away. Cooties and all that, you know.”

He laughs. “Did you get your supplies ordered online?”

“No. I told you already—I’m going to get them myself. I’ll walk into a store and—”

He pushes off the desk, stands up and waves. “Good luck with that. Call me when you’re stuck in the doorway. I’ll come with a gallon of bleach and some gloves.”

“Shut up. I’m not that bad.”

“Psssht!” He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. See you tomorrow?”

“Nope. I’ll be fine. Don’t need you. Have fun. Go on a date.” I eye him and smile.

“That will happen when you’re able to go fill up your car with gas on your own.”

I flip him off, pursing my lips, my brows scrunched together while pretending to glare, and he leaves, chuckling.

I listen to him lock up and then go over the paperwork once more.

It’s not exactly what they asked for, but it’s better, so they can’t complain.

It’ll do what they want it to.

Guilt surrounds my throat and closes it off.

What if they . . .

What if this is going to be used on people?

I blink and shove the paperwork aside.

No one’s that despicable.

I get up, put my second hoodie for the day into the washing machine and set it to soak on a timer with extra detergent.

Riot touched me.

Why? Why would he take that chance?

“I should fire his ass for that,” I mumble as I close the lid on the washing machine.

I wander back to my desk, and the minute I log into my favorite chat group, I see that name “Vapor,” and I’m tingling and breathless right away.

God, he’s so hot with the shit he gets up to. He knows exactly what to do to get me going.

Vapor:
You there, Ides?

The monitor blinks at me with his private message just for me.

“Yeah, I am, you slimy bastard.” I grin and type out a different reply though.
Ides:
What’s up? Invent anything today?

Vapor: Yep. Invented a way into your wet panties. Wanna come over and check it out, make sure it works correctly?

I bark a deep, biting laugh. “Uh, no. Not happening.”
Ides:
Sure. I’ll be right over . . .

Vapor: See, I knew you liked me.

Ides: Like is not an issue. It’s an issue of trust.

Vapor: You can trust me. Have I done anything to warrant anything else?

Ides: Yeah, you have.

Vapor: Such as?

Ides: You seem to know too much about me. How is that possible? No one knows who I am.

Vapor: Did my research, sweetheart. You’re all over the web, whether you know it or not. I know your signature when I see it, woman.

Ides: Right there—the fact you even know my gender is disconcerting.

Vapor: I’ve been tracking you down for months now. Do you know how hard it was to get into this elite hacker chat group? I swear they patted down my balls and made me turn my head and cough before they’d even let me in. Do they think I’ll hunt you down?

Ides: Would you?
I swallow, and my pussy throbs. God, I wish he would.

Vapor: For you? I might. I want you, and I think you know I touch myself while I fantasize about you. Can’t you tell I’m doing it right now?

“Pervert,” I whisper and grin wider.

Vapor: I’ve got a fucking hard-on about a mile long for you. I swear I practically squirt on my screen each time I chat with you. Want me to film it next time and send it to you? All I’ll need is your email address, hon.

Ides: Nice try. I’m not on here to get hit on or for free porn.

Vapor: Then why are you on here? It’s obvious you like me, or you wouldn’t keep replying when I IM your hot ass. There’s no one like you, and someday I’ll convince you to meet with me. You’ll have a great time, I promise. Oh, and so will your computer. I expect you to film me with your laptop when I’ve got your nipples in between my teeth.

“Uh, okay.” My nipples tighten even though the room is its standard seventy-eight degrees. And what the hell is my stomach doing? It feels like some kind of merengue to a shitty
Dirty Dancing
theme song.
Ides: What am I supposed to say to this?

Vapor: Any fucking thing you wish. But what I’d really like to hear is you cream yourself thinking about me, too. C’mon, Ides, give it up. At least tell me I turn you on. I’m dying over here.

Ides: Okay, fine. I get a little keyed up over you.

Vapor: How long does it take? Am I breaking records, or what?

Ides: You already know my boyfriend broke up with me two months ago and what a mess that was. Only one other guy has ever really done it for me, and he’s long gone. Haven’t seen him since I was a teen, so, yes, I guess you’re breaking records for me. But that’s nothing to brag about. I don’t have a social life to speak of.

Vapor: Really? Why? You’re so fucking smart and hot, you could have any guy you want.

My cheeks heat, and my chest flames with a stirring emotion I can’t and won’t name.
Ides: You asked why I’m on here? This is the one place I’m not a freak. I can be me, and the people here get me, especially you. Or so I thought.

Vapor: What’s that supposed to mean—so you thought? I get you, woman. I get you so much, I ache for you. Can you at least tell me what you look like so I don’t have to rely on my fucking pitiful imagination?

Ides: That’s all you’re gonna ask? Afraid? You’re not gonna go the typical creepy route and ask what color undies I’m wearing first and my cup size? ;D

Vapor: Nope. I already know what color they are. And cup size? Doesn’t matter to me as long as you don’t look like a dude and have a pair of tits that require a bra.

Ides: Bullshit. How could you possibly know the color?

Vapor: Please! A woman like you? You wear black, simple panties, and a matching black cotton bra that you look beautiful in. Simple, yet elegant and smart, like you.

Shit. I sit and stare, my eyes widening with each passing second.

Vapor: Well? Am I right?

I log off immediately, stand up, and pull off my black jeans and undies, head to the laundry room, toss them into the churning washer since they’re wet on the crotch for him, and I feel dirty now.

He knows. How does he know me so well?

I’ve only been talking to him for a month. We’ve never discussed the color of my clothing or underwear before.

I add a little more detergent to the wash, close the lid and head to the shower.

As much as I want to get off, I have to wash. I have to get clean, the bastard.

No more chatting with him, and no more fantasizing about him.

After soaping up twice in the shower, and refusing to masturbate, I dress in my jammies, all black of course, and grab my laptop.

The second I’m on, I can’t resist.

I log in, and there it is. A big fat note from Vapor, simply hovering before my eyes.

He’s logged off, but I still worry he’ll return since it usually doesn’t take him long to figure out I’m online and available to chat.

I read the message quickly—

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to piss you off. I’m crazy about you. You’ve gotta know I think about you constantly and die all day long, searching for anything about you online I can find. I count down the hours until you’ll get on that shitty chat group and possibly respond to me. I’ve never met anyone like you, and although it sounds trite, it’s true. Hopefully I haven’t scared you off so bad you’ll stay away. I promise I’ll cut this shit out if you want me to. I just couldn’t help myself. I wasn’t joking about how hard you make me. Say one word, Ides, and I’ll do anything you say, anything to know you better. And I hope one day maybe I can at least hear your voice if nothing else. Skype is free, you know. We don’t have to do a web chat if you don’t want to—though, I have no idea what you’re afraid of. I can’t imagine you being anything other than gorgeous, because it really doesn’t matter what you look like. I want you for you—for who you are. How many guys have said that to you? It doesn’t sound like there have been many based on the facts you’ve shared with me. Please, don’t cut me off. Talk to me—we can work this out. Vapor.

That’s when I turn my damned laptop off for the night, refuse to cry over this guy I pretend I barely know, and I get in bed, trying desperately to sleep. Only it doesn’t come.

I’m antsy, so turned-on, everything aches and throbs from my belly button to my thighs. And my breasts feel like they’ve swollen, too, and all from his damn words.

Eventually, after a few hours of trying unsuccessfully to sleep, a new invention hammers its way into my brain. So I roll out of bed in the middle of the night and head to my office, working out the details.

I can forget he exists, and I can go on with my life.

My life that includes my office, Riot—currently driving me insane—and my work. These are all I need.

I glare at my near-empty container of hand sanitizer.

“Fuck you,” I tell it. I knock it over, then immediately right it when panic seizes up my lungs, and then I squirt a little dab into my palm.

I’m fine. Don’t need to chat with Vapor at all. He’s fucked me up, and it’s not happening again.

I rub the ache away, by rubbing the cleanser into my skin.

Chapter 2

Blip, blip, blip.

Stupid light!

Yellow. The worst color ever.

Warnings. Those suck big round sweaty ass.

Why am I doing this?

My heart pounds as I turn into the gas station.

I’ve put it off for a week. I can do this.

“Uuuhhhhaaaaahhhh,” I release a tight, dizzying breath.

My knuckles pop as my grip on the wheel doubles in intensity.

Every time I consider what I’ll be doing in a few moments, my vision almost blurs.

My heart is driving its way out of my chest and into my stomach.

Sweat dots my brow.

After passing by two other gas stations too busy for my liking, I pull into the Chevron on the corner ahead of me.

I sigh. “This one’ll have to do.”

My breath catches as I slow the vehicle down and take in my surroundings.

There’s a car on each end—two total, and I can use the standard guys’ bathroom rules while fueling up my car. I stay in the middle stall with as much empty space between us as possible and don’t look at anything but my task at hand.

My shoulders round and hunch forward as I coast the car to a stop.

Why didn’t I get an assistant like Riot suggested?

I roll my neck. My shoulders are tight and achy.

“Stupid know-it-all,” I mutter to myself.

Riot’s words echo in my head and put my stomach in such a knot it feels like there’s a Chinese finger-trap inside, and my guts are trying to break free of the death grip hold it has on them. I’m a step away from screaming, and with my heart slamming about inside my chest, it makes it hard to concentrate.

I stir in my seat and huff a little at my arrogance in thinking I can handle these things myself.

I scan the grocery store gas station once more before opening the door and cautiously stepping out.

The second my hand grips the door, it’s shaking. Fingering the outline of my cell phone in my jeans pocket helps calm me.

Maybe I should get back in my car and log in on that chat group. I haven’t been on it in a week. Will Vapor talk to me again if I apologize and accept his?