Written Secrets

Sara and Justin both have a fascination with pregnancy risk sex, a bond that so far they've only shared online through their blogs. Justin wants to meet in real life, but Sara's certain their relationship is better left to the cyber world. But one night, when they run into each other at a party, real life and online life collide, and they must decide if they're going to live their fantasies or just write about them.

Excerpt:
Just a tiny little buzz. An ordinary sound, but more than enough to make my heart race.

I slid across my bed, reaching out to grab my second phone. The one that I used for only a single contact. The text message read: "Do you have time for me?"

I was supposed to be heading out for a night with my old college friends, was already running late, but there was no way that I would ever turn him away. I always have time for you.

That response earned me one of the rare times that he used an emoji in place of words. A huge grin. Then on a separate message, he wrote: Am at the world's most boring party right now.

And that's what made you think of me? Gee. Thanks.

There was a lag, then his next words appeared on the tiny screen. I was thinking you could be my excuse to escape from this place. I already scouted out the back entrance, which leads onto a private balcony.

I bit my lip and shivered. I had a feeling as to what was coming next. And what would we do there?

Another long pause, as if he could only text in between whatever it was he was doing. I would strip you naked so that I could worship every inch of your body with my mouth. Bet you would taste so sweet on my tongue.

It wasn't the first time he'd written something like this. And yet I wrote back: Naked? At a party?

In our own private space. And I bet you'd look beautiful in the moonlight.

That was the real problem, wasn't it? He didn't know what I looked like. At all.

Not that I knew what he looked like, either. That wasn't the point. I didn't need to. I had seen little glimpses of him on his blog, in the photos that had been carefully staged to hide his true identity. Just the hint of a strong jawline, covered in stubble. A strong body that spoke of a lot of time that had been spent in a gym.

And even those images could have been a lie. I didn't even know if the name that he had been using—Justin—was real either.

I told myself the truth didn't matter. I enjoyed his stories. That was how we had met. I'd followed a subset of writers who posted what were essentially sexual fantasies on their blogs. It was where I'd discovered that reading about risky sex, raw and unprotected, something I would never do in real life, turned me on like nothing else.

Most were pretty much the same thing. Guys tricking women into sleeping with them by pretending to put on a condom.

Justin's were... different. Not just a quick fantasy meant to get off. There were real stories behind them, and the women were never tricked. They were a full and knowledgeable participant in the encounters, even if their minds warred with what their bodies wanted.

It had always struck me as being raw and real in a way that reached to me through the screen.

I suspected that I wasn't the only woman who had written him fan mail. It was likely that he had admirers just for his pictures alone.

And I certainly had never expected him to answer.

Or that the first, brief note would lead to... this.