When Xenia awoke the next morning, she still didn't find herself bubbling with a plot for a the book.But that was okay, she assured herself. After a cup of coffee and a bagel eaten while peering out on the snow encrusted mountains in the distance, she put on a pair of jogging pants and a comfy long sleeved T-shirt and situated herself before the computer, still convinced last night's release would surely be followed by a burst of creativity.
On some level, she'd decided to believe Monica's theory since maybe believing would make it so, helping her put some words on the computer screen today.
As she pulled up the file in which she was utterly determined to start writing a novel within the next few minutes, she glanced out the window, the view too beautiful to be ignored for long. But then her gaze stuck on the presumed webcam. A sense of relief washed over her when she saw that, yes, the little green light remained lit, meaning it was always lit and that no one had really been watching her last night.
Slowly, the first seed of an idea began to grow in her mind. And whereas her plots were usually well thought out before she ever committed a word to the page, she knew that this time she needed to simply take this kernel and run with it. She began to type.
Just then, the computer let out a beep and a window appeared. An Instant Message box.
FLYBOY1: Good morning.
Xenia couldn't have been more stunned. Flyboy. Must be Monica's pilot , corporate raider cousin.
Well, maybe he was being polite enough to check on her arrival like this rather than with the webcam. Even so, given her exploits last night, it was unsettling.
The reply box that automatical y opened was labeled FLYBOY2. She figured she had no
choice but to answer. After all, the guy was letting her use his vacation home for free.
FLYBOY2: Hello.
FLYBOY1: I trust you arrived okay. How do you like the house?
FLYBOY2: The house is fabulous. A perfect retreat. Thank you for letting me use it.
FLYBOY1: Glad to have you there. Monica told me you were having some trouble writing in your usual environment. Are your creative juices flowing yet?
FLYBOY2: Starting to, I think.
FLYBOY1: Good. Are any other juices flowing?
Xenia's stomach pinched tightly. She hesitated, trying to figure out how to respond.
FLYBOY2: Um, not sure what you mean.
FLYBOY1: Come on, Xenia, you can be honest. Your secret's safe with me .
Her pussy clenched, along with the rest of her body. She simply sat there, frozen, unable to think clearly. or reply.
FLYBOY1: I saw you last night, Xenia. I saw you make yourself come.
Her breasts ached as her chest tightened. Her heart threatened to pound right through her rib cage. Again, she couldn't answer. She couldn't fathom that he'd really seen her, that she'd really been performing, touching herself, for a real, live voyeur.
Yet another message appeared.
FLYBOY1: Forgive me. I didn't do it on purpose. Was just up late working and it occurred to me I hadn't checked on your arrival, so I flipped on the cam, and there you were. I shouldn't have watched, you're an incredibly hot little houseguest, honey.
Xenia stared at his message in awe. Sensible responses to what had just happened raced through her mind. She should shut down the computer right now. More than that, she should pack up and leave, head right back to Seattle.
