A Secret Transfer

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Chapter 3

The two weeks passed excruciatingly slowly. Carolyn just couldn’t concentrate on her work at the school. Luckily, her administrative tasks were easy enough this time of the year. Her mind just kept wandering, thinking of meeting Brandon. The anticipation had become more and more difficult to bear as the days passed towards that Friday of all Fridays. She had a big scare when Tim suddenly came up with the idea to join her visit with Lorrie, but luckily his work had prevented him from taking days off that week. Carolyn knew that he didn’t really want to go—he didn’t like travelling abroad—and that this was his jealousy talking. He just couldn’t stand it that she would be travelling on her own. It scared him in some way, her being her own independent person. Of course, this time he had good reason to be suspicious. It made her chuckle and feel guilty at the same time.

In The Box, she and Brandon couldn’t stop talking about meeting in real life. Their friends at Beasts of Burden—the Home where they were regulars—started to tease them about it. Carolyn and Brandon teased them back for being envious. In fact, Carolyn knew that some of the women were green with envy. In their minds, she had snatched Brandon from them before they even stood a chance. When she said that the only thing she’d done was make avatars for him, they scolded her for playing naïve. But she didn’t care because she was his girl, and they spent as much time as possible in their private room. They aroused each other with dirty talk. His hot fantasies made her come every time. But they also talked about other things, about the online world of The Box and, to a lesser extent, about the real world.

“I feel safe telling you these things,” he said one night. It gave her a deep feeling she’d hardly recognised. Only the next day, when she was thinking about their conversation on the bus ride to work, did she realise what the feeling was—a feeling that had been hidden somewhere in her mind and body. It was like a yellowed photo from a distant time, tucked away in a shoebox on a high shelf in a forgotten closet. The feeling was beckoning her to unveil it again. In her mind, she looked at that high shelf where the shoebox had seemed unreachable for so long. But now, she only needed to stand on her toes and grab it. Removing the lid of the shoebox would be like opening Pandora’s box, she somehow knew that. It would unleash a virus that would plague her, and she wouldn’t want a cure.

“Lovebug,” she said out loud in the bus. The woman sitting next to her looked at her with surprise. Carolyn smiled back and felt like a teenager again.

The last evening before her flight they were in their private room. Carolyn and Brandon were using a so-called couple’s Ava she had made. These avatars consisted of the picture of a couple, often in an embrace. With both their username tags attached to this one Ava, it really felt to Carolyn as if they were in each other’s arms like the couple in the picture. Brandon had uploaded a new background for what was now their own private room. It was a picture of a windmill in a beautiful rural landscape at sundown. He’d told her the mill was actually his house, but she didn’t believe him. She thought he’d made a joke because he was often asked if he wore clogs all day when people in The Box heard he was Dutch.

“Are you sure about not wanting to see my real pic?” she asked him.

They had been talking about the fact that he actually didn’t know what she looked like in real life. She had seen his real picture—she asked for it—and liked his looks a lot. She saved the pic in her secret folder. She felt stupid about not showing her own picture. She was not very fond of showing her real picture in The Box, like many other users. She wasn’t very happy with her looks. She felt fat and old, even though she was only forty-one and certainly not overweight. But there was a chubbiness she had developed over the years that she really disliked and wasn’t able to change. She’d tried all kinds of diets, but actually, she wasn’t much of a big eater anyway. And she owned her own horse, which she rode at least once a week. Why the fat just kept being there around her waist and thighs she couldn’t understand. The extra pounds could hardly be because of her diet or lack of exercise. Maybe she disliked herself so much because of Tim being nasty about it. He would call her “fat arse” as a joke, which annoyed her. For her fortieth, he gave her a birthday card with a cow on it. It was one of those so-called funny cards, but she hadn’t been amused by it.

She did like her hair and her hands. She had beautiful, long, thick, chestnut-brown hair. It wasn’t always practical to keep it as long as she did, but there was no way she would shorten it. Sometimes a friend would style it in a thick, single braid. But mostly she wore it loose, as she liked feeling it around her. She knew it made people—men—look at her in a positive, sexy way. She liked that too.

She had narrow hands and long, even fingers. Her nails were nicely shaped. Long but not too long, and well kept. During her studies, she had even hand-modelled, but she quit when she got married. She read in a magazine that if your ring and index fingers are the same length you are a faithful lover and gentle and caring with your partner. She was about to change that. At least the former part.

These still-beautiful hands are going to hold his cock, stroke it, and make him feel good. They will make him come.

It excited her to imagine her hand wrapped around his manhood. She’d always liked holding a cock, feeling it grow harder as she stroked it, the crown glistening with her saliva as she popped it in her mouth to taste it and tickle the sensitive rim with the tip of her tongue. The first time she jerked off a boy in school as a teenager, she’d been surprised at how much it thrilled her. She’d felt a wonderful sensation in her own groin as soon as she held the boy’s pecker. It had made her giggle, and the boy had gotten insecure, thinking she was laughing at him, or worse, his pecker. But she’d made him come soon enough anyway. She sniffed her fingers for the rest of the day, savouring the musky scent that’d lingered even after washing her hands. When she’d told her best friend that she liked the scent and would taste a boy the next time she got the opportunity, Siobhan had been disgusted, telling her she was nuts for even thinking of such a thing. But Carolyn liked thinking about men’s penises, about holding and sucking them. It was actually the only sex she still enjoyed with Tim. The fuck after foreplay had become mechanical. At least while giving him a blowjob she was in control and was able to make it pleasurable.

“Are you sure?” she asked Brandon again. “You don’t want me to send you my picture before tomorrow?”

“The real thing will be better than any picture, no doubt,” Brandon said with conviction.

“Don’t be so sure.”

“How can you not be beautiful? To me that’s impossible.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, but she enjoyed his flattery.

“If for some reason you think I should not lay my eyes on you, you have my permission to blindfold me,” he said.

She laughed at this. “You sound like a master. Am I your sub now?”

“We’ll see after Friday. Who knows, maybe you’ll go to Berlin with a collar.”

A hot, stingy feeling shot through Carolyn’s body.

Oh my god, is he serious? What the hell am I getting into? Why do I even feel excited by these words?

Deep down, she knew there was a sub in her, but she’d never contemplated actually acting it out, as some of the women did in The Box. Her submissiveness remained hidden in a place that was yet to be discovered. She didn’t even know herself where it was.

“I’m just teasing, Britt,” he said. She felt slightly disappointed. But then he continued: “At least about the collar. Maybe not the blindfold.”

Carolyn stared at their couple’s avatar. She could not wait until tomorrow when that image of them would be real and tangible.

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