It’s not like they’ll ever meet
He sent the emails, he knew, he shouldn’t have. Well, more in reply to hers, she’d hit him unexpectedly, early morning watching some old film starring, he can’t remember who. In truth a film he hardly saw, too caught up in chasing her with words. All he said was he missed her, her beauty her quirky ways … and that she was special, and other things he’d said before, come on, where did he go wrong?
Within the hour she’d sent back photos, quite a few, most innocent, except one or two. The pole in her bedroom, okay, he guessed she exercised, but the tattoo, the last letter of his name clipping her pantie line. Had to be seen to be believed and yes right then he wanted to. He craved to trace the inked label, even though six thousand miles away, his night, her afternoon. A bit of fun, okay, taken a bit too far, no real harm done. It’s not like they’ll ever meet.
He played it cool, sent back ‘Looking good!’
She followed up ‘I’m on my way.’
On the way to where, he grinned, so up himself he thought his words were that good. Reality sank in, bloody hell she’s coming to the UK! No worries, he thinks, how can she know where I live.
‘Hi, just arrived, I’m in a taxi, found your address on Goggle, I’ll be there in half an hour.’
Internet liaisons … be careful what you wish for and what you leave out there.