Keyboards and Kink (19 page)

“Thanks, hon, I’m a wee bit bagged down here.” She
laughed. “How are you?”

Maggie kissed her. “Fine, well as fine as I can be. I
hear the lion was like daddy.” She checked to see if the girls were
listening. They weren’t. “Dominanny evidently. You been holding out
on me, Suze?”

Suze laughed. “Well, you know, Trev is rather well.
Er, anyway. How are you managing? Is everything okay?”

Maggie sighed. Would people just stop asking her
that? How many ways were there of saying fine? No way could she
tell the truth and say… “Well actually, I’m alone, frightened for
the future, and worried sick about what’s going on in my life. I’m
having a virtual sex session once a week, waking up hot horny and
frustrated most nights, and wondering when the hell this will be
all be over?” Not when Suze’s husband was in China for three
months, and she was left with two hyperactive four year olds to
care for. At least Maggie only had herself—and Germaine the cat!
Talking of which…

“Gotta dash, the blooming cat hid under the bed this
morning, and if I leave him too long, the duvet will look like a
shag pile rug. He’s molting.” And tonight was the night to have her
session. However, she didn’t mention that.

All the way home she felt her excitement grow. Just
thinking about what he might say, might ask her to do had her thong
soaked, her nipples chafing the lace of her bra, and her clit
tingling.

Once Germaine had been removed from the bed—yowling
and scratching his disapproval—she changed the bedding and pampered
herself. Soaked in the bath, waxed a couple of stray hairs, and
made sure her skin was covered in lotion. She smoothed make up over
her eyelids, added eyeliner and a take-no-prisoners mascara, which
lengthened her already long lashes to an improbable degree. Colored
her lips a deep red, and used nail varnish in the same shade on
fingers and toes. As she dressed she blushed slightly at her risqué
outfit. Well, he wouldn’t see it, but it made her feel horny,
desirable, and wanton.

She was sitting at the computer, with time to spare,
when the doorbell rang. Closing down
Solitaire
she took a
quick look at herself and groaned. No way could she answer the door
in fishnets and a Basque. Never had a dressing gown been dragged on
so fast. She hoped whoever was there wouldn’t notice the fact her
nails and lips were fuck-me red.

Maggie opened the door as far as the chain allowed. A
package and a pencil were thrust through the gap to her.

“Sign here.” The guy on the other side of the door
mumbled around the chewing gum in his mouth, without even looking
at her. So much for her allure! Or her worrying. With earphones so
deeply embedded it looked as if they were a permanent fixture, and
the faint sounds of a football match seemingly coming from inside
his head, Maggie reckoned she could have danced naked in front of
him, and he’d only be concerned about scoring a goal, not scoring
with her!

She was smiling as she handed his pencil back and
closed the door, looking carefully at the parcel in her hand. It
was simply addressed, To Maggie, for your Session.

She chuckled, and wondered what it was. She opened
the box, and blushed. From boobs to clit and back again, via her
pussy and her ass.

A camera and microphone with instructions how to
attach them to the PC.

Maggie glanced at the clock. Forty-five minutes and
counting. Dare she? Her mobile pinged to signify a text. Walking to
the table she picked the phone up and looked at the text.

Do it for me, Mags.

No contest, she was taking off the protective
wrappers as she walked.

Simplicity itself, the camera was fixed, and she had
it angled, just as she wanted it, the mic worked and she was all
set.

She logged on and waited.

Session denied.

What? No not that, never that, please. Maggie sat and
stared at the screen. How could they? It was so not fair. This
short interlude meant so much to them both.

She tried again.

Session denied. Session corrupted. Session locked
out.

High heels were not the best things to be wearing in
a temper, especially ones with four-inch rapier heels. One went
flying towards the screen.

There was the tinkle of smashed glass. Maggie opened
her eyes in horror, having closed them when she let fly with the
shoe. Luckily her aim was as crap as ever. She’d hit a particularly
ugly crystal vase that had belonged to her godmother. It was no
loss.

Her phone pinged again.

Try now, use this code. Ignore cameras, lights,
actions, mics, just get on it. Please. Oh but if they are all
ready, good. I’ll look forwa…

Shit, that was it? With fingers hitting the wrong
keys in her haste, Maggie logged in with the code she’d been
given.

And could have cried.

Session available.

Gaunt, pale and tired looking. It was him. His
normally bright eyes were dull. His hair, over long, just as she
liked it, straight, no hint of its normal curl. But it was him.

“Maggie? This is short and sweet.” The beloved voice
was hoarse. “I have ten minutes, a promise of no interruptions.
Show me how you look. Come for me, please?”

“Oh God.” She was crying as she stood so he could see
her. “It’s really you.” A thought struck her. “Are you sure no one
can see me except you?”

“I’m sure. Do you think I’m prepared to share that
sweet, hot-for-me body with anyone else? I’m no swinger, you’re all
mine. If I could, I’d show you how my cock is standing up, hard and
waiting to be touched, preferably by you, but accepting it will be
me. Sadly, I can’t angle the camera, so you’ll have to come by
looking at my face. Touch your clit, Maggie, fuck yourself, let me
see, let me hear. Let me imagine I’m there with you. Sitting in the
big chair in the corner of the bedroom, watching you lie on the
bed, legs apart, hands on your clit, plug and vibrator keeping you
ready for me. Watching you fall apart and shouting my name. Then
putting my cock in you, filling you with my cum…” his voice
lowered. It sounded anguished. “Making babies.”

Shit, he should have kept his mouth shut. He’d put
out her fire in two short words. Maggie knew she couldn’t say
anything. She kept her smile on her face, and moved a hand to her
clit.

“Fuck yourself,” she said, determined to be upbeat,
and get him excited. He liked her to talk frankly, and she was
getting better at it. “If we’ve only got, er, seven minutes now,
you better get going, love. If I touch my clit, you touch your
cock. Deal?”

I can’t believe I’m making myself come on camera,
even if it is for his eyes only, Maggie thought as she began to
tingle, feeling his eyes on her. It was like he was touching her
soul. She felt her juices gathering, and knew she didn’t need a
vibrator when he was looking at her.

“That’s it, Maggie, go for it. I love to see you like
this, eyes misted, body shaking. Oh so exciting. Fuck, Maggie, I’m
so hard I could snap. I’m going to come for you love, now, now ahh
shit, yes.” As she felt herself tip into ecstasy, she saw him
shudder, heard his shouts and saw him shake. It was enough to
finish her. She slumped into the chair and closed her eyes. Just
for a second.

When she opened them the screen was blank.

The cursor hovered…

Chapter Three

Session has expired
.

Maggie slid to the floor. Please, God, not that. Left
the room, been cut off—well, no, not that either—been interrupted,
logged out. Not expired, never that.

From her seat on the carpet she stared at the screen,
willing it to come to life.
Futile, Maggie, he’s gone. Get up,
build a bridge, and get over it
.

But although she told herself to move, her body
wouldn’t respond. Pictures flashed through her mind, his face, his
smile, and those dim eyes. Happy laughter, his cum on her
breasts.

A coffin.

“Noooo,” she shouted, her voice echoing in the
silence. “No, no, no, no.”
Fuck it, Maggie, melodramatic or
what? The link was down, the connection broken. That’s all. Now get
up and get on with it.
But try as she might her legs wouldn’t
obey her, and she stayed where she was, shaking, her eyes staring
at the screen as if by looking she could bring it to life.

She didn’t, of course.

Eventually, like an old woman she stood up, and
logged out. Went into the bedroom and cried. For him, for those
unborn babies, and for what might have been.

Surprisingly, she slept.

And woke up determined, fighting, and stubborn. How
dare they stop them communicating. Session expired indeed. No way,
no bloody way.

She checked her phone. No text so she sent one
herself.

Reinstate session immediately
.

Sent an email.

I expect to see session available 7 pm tonight.

She waited. Eventually an email arrived.

It cannot be guaranteed session available.

Hah. That was easily answered.

You think not? Think again. Remember where I
work.

Then there was silence.

Maggie did her washing. Ironed a shirt, vacuumed the
lounge, all with one eye on the computer and an ear open for any
texts.

Nothing. Niet, rein de tout, zilch. A great big fat
silence. It was like being in a bubble.

Finally several hours later her phone showed a
text.

7 p.m. Be there.

Nothing else.

Well duh, she thought. However, exactly where is
there? In the house, by the computer, what exactly?

She checked her emails.

One
please send me money
—how the hell had that
slipped through the spam filter, one
last days of our furniture
sale
—oh really, how uninteresting, and one short email that she
really wanted.

Conservative, restrained—no, not
restrained—restrained. And remember. Love is everything.

Okay, so maybe no handcuffs and whip then. She went
for a pencil skirt and a lacy blouse. With a strap top underneath,
no bra and knickers—she’d gotten used to the bare assed theme, and
truth be told rather liked it.

And waited. If she hadn’t seen the second hand sweep
round time after time, she’d have thought the clock had stopped.
Maggie couldn’t settle. She wanted it to be seven p.m. Not four or
five-thirty. Seven.

At six she had a cup of tea and burned her lip. At
six-ten she repaired her make up, went to the loo and ate an apple.
At six-thirty she went to the loo again. By ten to seven she was a
nervous wreck.

She logged onto the site she’d used first.

Nothing, a blank screen. Then…

Invalid log on. Session not available.

Maggie banged her head on the desk.

Do. Not. Do. This. Please, she begged silently.

It ignored her—naturally.

Maggie groaned. What next? She tried the other site.
That was worse. It didn’t even acknowledge her.

How can I do anything if it won’t let me? What
next?

Three minutes to go.

She dashed into the kitchen and poured a glass of
wine, feeling she may need it, then went back to the study and the
computer.

One minute. Thirty seconds. Her clit did its
clenching-oh-am-I-going-to-get-attention act it did each time she
thought she might be in contact with him.

The screen flashed, the cursor moved.

Session delayed, please wait.

Maggie groaned. Wait for how long?

Five minutes? Ten?

It was thirty long minutes. That flipping message
stayed stubbornly on the screen.

Maggie replenished her wine, took some crackers and
pâté to the computer, being careful not to drop food on the
keyboard.

Session delayed.

“I know, you keep telling me. For fuck’s sake update,
refresh or something. Don’t keep me dangling.”

Well, it was a computer, so it ignored her.

Finally, after forty-five minutes the screen
flashed.

Session arrived.

Yeah? Where? Maggie waited, feeling her arousal
increase. Why had she put a pencil skirt on, making it so hard to
touch herself?

The seconds ticked by. Still nothing else appeared on
the screen, or on her phone.

She put her glass to her lips.

The doorbell rang.

Maggie jumped, dropped the glass and looked at the
stain on her blouse and skirt in dismay.

Hell, she looked like the whole of the local male
voice choir had come on her.

The bell rang again, shrill and insistent. She’d
better answer the door.

Slowly she opened it to the extent of the chain.

“Take the chain off, Maggie mine. Bring me in and
fuck me.”

She had the chain off in seconds, crying, laughing,
hardly be able to believe her eyes.

“It’s you? Really you, here? How, why? Who?” She was
incoherent with pleasure, as she slammed the door behind him, not
even looking to see if he was alone.

“It’s me. Because I needed to see you, be with you,
be in you. And they knew it. We have an hour, Maggie, a precious
hour. Shall we?” His hands were at the buttons of her blouse, hers
at his fly.

“Oh God, so good, love.” His cock sprung free as she
guided him to the bed and helped him onto it. “Not the chair this
time?” He was laughing as she almost ripped her skirt off and sat
over him.

“Ah, Maggie, this is heaven.” She was impaled on his
cock, her hands moving from his nipples to her blouse, helping him
strip it from her. She felt her nipples pinched and soothed as she
set up a steady rhythm on his cock. Tightening and relaxing her
muscles as his cock swelled inside her, Maggie knew she couldn’t
last long.

“Lean forward. Let me suck your nipples love as we
come. Please, they are so sweet. Your body is so perfect for me.
The feeling of you holding me deep inside you is an invitation to
fill you. I’m going to come. Let me suck as I do.”