They arrived the next night as the Twin Foxes, Albert and Ebenezer Fox, famous poachers from the late eighteen hundreds. That night the avatar Juliana was to be the “game” they were hunting. A huge reward was set for their capture. An even larger reward was set for my
avatar’s capture. Once they caught me, I was bound, gagged, and treated to innumerable delights by the twins.
Tonight, they promised a “special treat.” At half past ten, I’m beckoned by a silky sensation along my throat. I stroke my lips and I wander into my Headspace for some fun. “Hey, big dogs, who wants to come out and play?”
The scene immediately shifts to baked summer hills and sparse grass plains. Puffy white clouds linger in the summer sky.
Two huge roan stallions prance into the space, bearing two Greek gods, Castor and Polydeuces. Thank heavens I excelled in my Greek mythology courses. Here we are in ancient Greece again. The horses’ necks are covered with foamy sweat as if they’ve been racing to get here. They toss their heads as they stand, impatient, excited, eager to move.
I immediately split into two avatars, Phoebe and Hilaera, known as the “daughters of the white horse,” who married the twins, defying their intended husbands. I and I look at each other and shrug. It’s the first time I’ve experienced myself as two entities and I’m eager to see what happens. My avatars are dressed in simple gowns that drape down to sandaled feet. One of us wears an earthy orange chiton. The other sports a green tunic. All that hooey about Greeks wearing nothing but white is just that—hooey.
Castor and Polydeuces are built of solid muscle. Their skin is burnished gold with touches of green, like oxidized copper. They dismount their stallions at the exact same time, like it’s a choreographed dance. They strut before me—I mean us—they strut before us, giving us time to take in their strength…to admire their long foreskin-covered phalluses hanging proudly between their legs. My two avatars coo and compliment. It’s odd to have two perspectives going on at the same time but I manage to roll with it. In one mind, I’m demur and shy. The other avatar is bold and outspoken.
“What say you, maidens?” the one called Castor asks. “Think you you could find us pleasing to run off with?”
“You are fine to behold, sir, but we are betrothed.”
“We think otherwise,” Polydeuces claims. “We are here to prove you wrong. Wouldn’t you rather have us?”
“Why, yes, fine sirs, you are without a doubt handsome. Your strength is legendary. But our betrotheds will not stand for this. You must leave us and get away while you can.” I’m enjoying this fanciful play. I always was a sucker for make-believe. One of me, the shy one, bats my eyelashes and looks at my feet, dusty in the heat of the midday sun.
The horses whinny and scrape the ground with their hooves.
“Our steeds grow impatient. Let us leave. Together…”
Two horses with riders appear in the distance. They are galloping with a fury in our direction.
“Oh, it’s our betrotheds! Get away, fine sirs!”
In synchrony, the twins leap onto the backs of the stallions. One of the horses rears in the air. The men kick the flanks of their steeds, move toward us, and scoop us up onto the backs of the equines. “Hold on!” they shout in unison.
I’m so caught up in this fantasy I’ve forgotten that it’s all a virtual world. Both avatars cling to the backs of the gods. Our long hair whips in the wind. The men’s hard muscles radiate heat to our breasts and bellies. We’re tickled by hair, flesh, and sweat while the muscled animals beneath us propel us forward, stimulating our kitty-cats to arousal.
We out-race our captors and find ourselves in a green and blue oasis. We stand at the opening to a breathtaking cave. We’re surrounded by green trees and golden grasses. Below us lies beckoning turquoise water.
“Care for some refreshment, brother?”
“The horses are thirsty,” Polydeuces responds. “And I’ve got a thirst that needs quenching as well.”
The two men shrug, spur their horses forward, leap, and we fall down, down, down into the cavern, landing with a mighty splash. I’m surprised we all remain on the backs of the horses, but in a fantasy world, you can do as you please.
The horses swim to the edge and haul themselves out of the water. They lower their heads and drink from the cool clear water.
Castor turns and grabs my Phoebe avatar and lowers me to the ground. He deftly dismounts and scoops me up in his arms. He wades hip deep into the water, lifts my sodden skirts and lowers me onto his shaft where he proceeds to rock me against his hips, making gentle splashes as he moves.
Polydeuces pivots, takes my Hilaera avatar and moves me to the front of him. “I’ve got wood that needs waxing. What say you?”
I glance down at his throbbing heat. “Oh, yes,” I breathe, fully engaged with my avatar.
He coaxes me to spread out along the neck of the roan. I lean forward, allowing my arms to drape around the muscles of my strong steed. I grab onto the stallion’s coarse-haired, reddish mane. Polydeuces grabs my hips, lifts me, and leans into me, entering me from behind. He pumps vigorously.
No foreplay here
, my Hilaera avatar thinks.
Unless you call ‘capture and flee' foreplay
.
Nor here
,
my Phoebe avatar agrees.
Still, when the men release inside of us, we moan, shriek, and wail as if we are having the orgasms of our lives.
After that, HoloMess 500 interrupts to see if I’ve accepted Himeros as a new client. I haven’t vetted him yet but I’m in an expansive mood so I take the bait. He pulse-coms within seconds.
“Hey, big dog, who wants to come out and…?” I’m immediately cut off.
“Can you feel me inside your pussy? You’re soaking wet and I’m big and hard and inside you right now.”
“Why, yes, I…” I start to stammer and lose control because he’s right. It
does
feel like he’s inside of me. I take a deep breath. I need to be in control in here at all times. This is
my
Headspace. “Who wants to know and why?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Sorry, but the rules are you tell me who you are, I access your headspace, and then we play.”
“This is just a game.”
“That’s right.”
“So, let’s play by my rules. You don’t like them, you don’t have to play.”
I’m busy scanning him to see who he is beyond the pixel wall. I get fragments of images, nothing more. He’s wealthy. He’s got a wife—wait! He’s got several wives. None of them know about the others.
“That’s my business,” he interrupts.
“What?”
“You scanning me to see who I am. That’s my business. Now do we play or not?”
The green lights go off in the corner indicating that the guy has put money in my account for his pleasure. A number flashes indicating it’s twice as much as I usually get paid for a first session. I regard it and frown. The red lights go off in my head. Big, blaring red flags finally get my attention. There’s something about this guy that bothers me. Something’s not right here. “I’m going to issue you a refund.”
“Keep it.”
“I don’t think this transaction is going to work.”
“We haven’t even begun.”
“Yes, I’m afraid we have. And it’s not going to work.”
“You haven’t even seen my avatar.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It will when you see me.”
Against my better judgment I say, “Okay, show me.” I sink onto the sheepskin rug and wait. “I’m waiting.” Nothing happens. I start to unplug from the session when the room changes. Now we’re in the headspace of Himeros, a lesser-known Greek god of sexual desire. He stands before me, completely naked. He’s muscular. Gorgeous, shimmery golden wings extend from his ravishing shoulders. His cock hangs, slightly aroused. It’s one of the most beautiful cocks I’ve seen in my life. It says desire. It promises pleasure. It speaks of endless satisfaction. “Do you know who I am?” he asks in a soft, rich voice.
“Sure,” I say nonchalantly. “You’re Himeros.” I do know my Greek mythology. Inside, I’m quivering with anticipation.
“What do you know about me?”
“You’re a Greek god. You hang with Aphrodite. You’re the god of uncontrollable desire.”
The room has changed to a stone temple. Soft torches illuminate the walls. I can’t tell if this is his doing or mine. He’s in
my
Headspace and I don’t know who is in control here. This is both disturbing and intriguing.
“Are you feeling me?”
My pussy is throbbing. Sure enough, I
do
feel uncontrollable desire. I want this avatar. I want to play with him like I’ve never played before. I decide to roll with his rules. He’s probably a control freak. “Oh, yes, Himeros, I feel you.”
“I told you you’d like me.”
“Liking my clients isn’t part of the job description. Servicing their needs is.”
“All I want to do, baby, is to get you to come.”
I pause.
Does he know about my little problem
?
“Don’t you want to come around my hard cock?”
“You know I do, sugar. I want to come and come again.”
“Yeah, well I heard you have a problem with that.”
I pause again. “What are you talking about?”
He laughs.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Himeros.”
“I don’t have any problems.”
“Really?” he says in a mocking tone.
This guy confuses me. Once again, I start to unplug from the session. I’m going to keep his damn money for the upset he’s caused in me.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Unplug me.”
“Look. This is just supposed to be a game. It’s all a fantasy. I don’t know who you are and how you came to find me but I don’t like you. We’re done.”
“You’ll come around.”
“No refund.”
“Suit yourself. This has been fun.”
“Take my pulse off your list.”
“You’ll want me to call.”
“I doubt it.”
His mood shifts and once again I’m filled with desire. It overwhelms me. It’s like a tidal wave of sensation that crashes through me and surges me to and fro. I fall, I literally fall to my knees. “What do you want me to do?” I breathe. “How can I be of service?”
“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough,” he says. He sparks out of the room and I’m left wanting, yearning, desirous of more. I roll onto my back. I place my fingers between my legs and push apart the wet silk. I stroke. Excitement builds. I stroke some more. Pleasure intensifies. I push a finger up inside. This feels good. This feels great. And then that persistent little voice starts inside, reminding me why I never touch myself, never play with toys, have given up trying.
You’ll never orgasm. You’re thirty years old. Haven’t done it yet and never will
. I try to push that voice away but the more I push, the louder it gets until I can’t hear anything else. Finally, I get up, turn off the pulse-com and head to my bedroom to fall asleep, or at least try to. And I swear to myself that I’ll never accept a call from this Himeros guy again. Whatever his thing is, I’m not playing. Not in
my
headspace.
After my week of non-orgasmic-as-usual action with my clients, I decide to take a few days off. My bank account is fat and I’m wiped out. Working in my Headspace is harder than it looks. It requires a lot of energy to merge minds with another. It’s a breathtaking autumn day and I need to get out. I pulse-com Jonas to hear what’s happening with him. They guy who answers is not the guy I know and love. It’s like an imposter has taken his place.
“Hey, V,” a weary voice greets me.
“Hey. What’s going on?”
“Not much. You?”
The conversation is so stilted, I falter. “Not much,” I finally manage to say. “I, um, I wondered if you wanted to go grab a bite with me. It’s a pretty day.”
A sigh lands in my ears. “I’m afraid not, V. We’re working on the Joner Restoration project over here.”
“Okay, so?”
“So, no on grabbing a bite.”
“Okay, maybe tomorrow?”
“I’m afraid not. We’re trying to work things out.”
A burst of sudden rage pummels my gut. “What, so that means you don’t get to have any friends anymore?”
“Oh, I still get to retain a few.”
“Are you kidding me? Which few? Am I on the list?” A stiff silence cuts a hole in my ear. “Are you fucking shitting me, Jonas? Have I been booted from the list?” More stabbing silence. “I should be at the top!” Tears erupt from my eyes. I will never, ever in a thousand years understand a dysfunctional couple like Jonas and Jenner. “Seriously?” I say to the silence. “Jonas? Talk to me.”
“I’m sorry, V. This is over. I can’t do it. For now.”
The pulse-com echoes in my ear, letting me know that Jonas has disconnected. Disconnected! My friend of umpty-ump years has disconnected from me! “Fuck him,” I yell into the room. “Fuck him and his ancestors.”
Nigel saunters into the room.
Having a little upset
?
He parks his haunches and sets to grooming his paws.
Keep it down, will you? I’m trying to digest
.
“Grrr,” I respond. “Grrr, grrr, and double grrr.” I’m hurt, angry, and bewildered. I reconsider.
It was just a moment. We can work this out.
I pulse-com Jonas back. No one answers. He
always
answers me, even if he’s in a meeting. I wait a few and try again. Nothing. Impulsively, I pulse-com my new friend, Magicka.
“Hey, girl, what’s doing? I’m just about to go out on a date.”
“Lucky you,” I grumble into the phone.
“Oh, my, honey, whatever’s the matter? It’s not a
date
date. Want to come along?”
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much company. I just got stood up by Mr. Inched-Away-from-the-Edge. We’ve been friends for years! Now, suddenly, I’m on a watch list courtesy of jealous bitch girlfriends who go out on their man and then have the nerve to tell him who he can and can’t be friends with!” That came out stronger than I intended. “I’m sorry to burden you with my shit. Sorry. Go on your date. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re coming with me and Dean, darling. I insist. We’ve got two pairs of caring ears and need a little drama. Give me your address.”
I sheepishly mumble it into the com. I hate to appear weak or incompetent. I especially hate to appear weak.