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  He walked me to my door then. He wrapped his large hand around my petite one. The heat rolled off his body as we walked toward the building. I thought desperately for any way convince him to come inside and finish the job. We stopped at my door. Before I said or did anything, he picked up his hands and wrapped them in my hair, securing my face.

  His hold was gentle but inescapable. For a wild moment I hoped I would get my way. "Next time we meet, I'll take care of you like no one ever has." He kissed me again. His tongue moving in my mouth made my body feel like jelly. He pulled back looking into my eyes. He stroked my cheek. "Let's get together soon. I'll text you."

  I had a difficult time breaking our contact "Thanks Mason, I had a wonderful time." I told him still tangled with him. He pulled away gently said good night and turned to walk down the hall. I stood in the hallway for a few minutes. I had the odd sensation someone watched me, but I looked around and saw no one. I looked down the hall to make sure Mason closed the main entrance behind him.

  I opened my door, went inside, and locked it behind me. Each foot I put between us caused physical pain. If he wanted this I needed to manage. I had a hard time saying goodbye when all I wanted was for him to come inside and finish the job. My imagination reeled as I thought of him showing me what he meant by "take care of me". I started to make sense of why he denied me. If I left him desperate and turned on this way it would drive me crazy.

  10

  The first two weeks at the library were so hectic I scarcely remember them. I remember being happy at least. Competency grew my self-esteem. Gavin Wolfe acted pleased enough with my work and continued my trial to the full month he promised. I left work late each night, exhausted. I didn't have a single moment to spend with Mason those two weeks. My work overflowed my days and my nights and left me always in need of more time.

  The next month of my trial employment continued as busy, though a bit smoother running. I became well acquainted with most of the staff. A few of them didn't warm to me as I feared, but I couldn't let myself be bothered. Wolfe put me in charge.

  None of them were nasty. So, I continued like there were no problems at all. Most of them seemed to like me well enough. I enjoyed having people to interact with especially closer to my age. I was surprised to find I liked dealing with people. Everything depends on context.

  An unfortunate side effect of all the wonderful new things happening for me was a lack of time to spend with Mason. The lust I had for him after that first date didn't fade. I pushed my feelings to the back burner of my mind out of necessity. I couldn't spend the night with him like I wanted. I couldn't even meet him at a reasonable time for dinner. We did have lunch a few times. Even then I didn't have more than forty-five minutes to spend with him.

  One afternoon we met at a park near the library. They had a little concession stand that sold good coffee and fresh pastries. We had another beautiful spring day to share. We sat on those metal chairs that leave lattice marks on bare skin. People walked their dogs. Couples strolled hand in hand. The playground sat on the other side of the park.

  We ate croissants and drank café au lait. I found myself feeling Parisian with no actual knowledge of what that would be like. There were birds chirping all around us. "Birds"

  "Birds" He agreed.

  The breeze twisted around us pushing my long hair in my face. I looked him over wondering if he would offer some information up himself. "You never did tell me why you were looking for that book on birds." I pushed the strands behind my ear.

  "No, I didn't." His voice sounded solemn.

  I waited a moment thinking he would continue on his own. "Well, are you going to tell me?"

  He did some type of calculation. He looked deep into my eyes. "When I was a kid my mom always told me about birds." He looked down. "She was a happy person. She used to whistle a lot. She memorized of their songs. We used to have this book." He paused a minute judging if I still listened. "It had lots of birds, every bird anybody knew about. It was a scientific reference and had all the common and Latin names. I loved that. I loved looking at the pictures with her."

  "Why can't you get it?" I asked, not sure I wanted the answer.

  "My mom's dead, Claire." His green eyes were full of sadness. "and who knows where it is."

  "I'm sorry." I was unsure what to do. I had never been good in situations like that.

  "Me too." He agreed mildly.

  "What happened?" I tried to make my voice sound consoling and not prying.

  "She died in a car crash." His voice came out calm and deliberate.

  My face twisted. "How old were you?"

  "Fourteen." He took a bite of his croissant. Neither of us spoke as he chewed and swallowed. "My mom always had a smile on her face. She was special." His tone closed the subject. "What about you, you must have parents?"

  "I didn't hatch out of an egg, you're correct." I told him trying to bring some levity. He gave me a look that told me I succeeded, but he wouldn't be distracted. He wanted to know.

  "There isn't much to tell. I never met my dad. I have no siblings, and my mom and I aren't close." I tried to sound matter of fact, but I came across sadder than I meant to.

  "I'm sorry." He told me, reaching across the table to stroke my hand. "Why aren't you and your mom close?" His voice sounded gentler than I was used to.

  I pulled his hands affectionately into my own. "We're very different people." I told him, unwilling to say more.

  Those lunch dates were wonderful, but too brief. I wanted more than anything to spend more time with him. I hated always leaving with more to say. It made him seem like the most interesting person alive. I would text him whenever I had time. I felt bad for not giving him more attention. One Monday night as I dealt with a massive pile of paperwork he texted me.

  Boss Lady, do you think you'll have any time for this, this week?

  A picture of his hand wrapped tight around his hard cock accompanied the text. It looked perfect, well-proportioned and attractive. The quintessential picture of manhood on display, strong and viral. I took a sharp breath in as I imagined him stroking the length. I imagined his face twisting in pleasure as he maneuvered himself closer to orgasm. His teeth bit at his lip and he groaned, about to cum.

  I wrenched myself out of my imagination and back to the question at hand. Did I have any time for that? I didn't if I wanted to be responsible person. I wished it didn't matter. If I didn't spend the night with him soon I would lose my mind and everything I worked so hard for.

  Things are going well at work; this Friday night would be perfect for me.

  I laughed at my too casual reaction to his photo.

  Friday works. Don't tease me.

  I knew what he meant. I said nothing about the picture he sent me. He had his privates out in the breeze and I didn't even compliment them. I wondered if I should put him out of his misery. Teasing him seemed like a better option, especially after what he did on our last date. I pulled my skirt up and my panties to the side. I took a picture of my bits spread open and seductive. I pressed send.

  Only with this, on Friday night.

  His answer came fast.

  You're too sexy for your own good. Tell me if you like.

  I couldn't help the bubbling warmth in my chest.

  No, I'm too sexy for your good. You first.

  I countered.

  It would be impossible for you to be too sexy for my good. Of course, I do. That's the hottest pussy I've ever seen.

  I couldn't help the stupid smile that spread across my face as I read his text.

  Thank you, baby. I can't lie that cock is incredible.

  I smiled as I sent him the message.

  I'm glad you like it. Sleep tight, baby.

  Once again, I decided to make myself cum thinking of him. It made it so much hotter if he knew.

  Good night, I'm making myself cum thinking of you.

  It became too easy to imagine him having his way with me. Since our first meeting I fantasized ab
out him. Since that first date I'd needed him worse than an animal. I pulled one of my favorites into mind. His strong body held me against a wall. His arms rippled as he held me up and slammed himself recklessly into me. His teeth bit hard into the soft skin at my neck. I tried not to moan out loud when I masturbated, but I couldn't help it this time. It felt too good and I needed it too bad.

  I had such a physical reaction to him it I couldn't think straight when he was near. I couldn't figure out why he still wanted me. You could say that's a pessimistic way to look at things and maybe it was. Still, I couldn't believe he still wanted to talk to me. I agreed to have string-less sex with him about two months before. So far, he didn't fuck me. He went on multiple dates with me and given me a lot of his time. Those were a lot of strings for someone whom I promised none.

  He agreed to see what unfolded when I told him I wanted more but this was not how either of us expected. I had so many people tell me in my life that if a guy was willing to wait too long it meant he had a problem. It could be sexual dysfunction, or he thought he had a small penis. Grinding my ass against his erection told me neither of those things were true.

  He told me he wanted to make me wait that one night. I was confident now that was a silly power play. He never expected it would take more than a day or two to seal the deal. I could get wanting to fuck that much. I wanted to fuck him that much, but who would want to fuck me that much?

  I couldn't think of any super redeeming qualities I possessed. I looked good, but drama stuck to me. My emotions showed too openly. I let my mood get out of hand. I had to try to stop myself. I could get carried away with negative thoughts. I decided I wouldn't let that happen then. Maybe he liked me. I told myself with significant effort. Why did that have to be such an impossible idea? I tried to force myself to believe it.

  I made my interest in fucking him clear in a variety of interesting ways. I sent him plenty of pictures that he seemed happy to get. He told me he thought I was sexy and other more meaningful compliments. I wanted to look at his face. Looking at his face would calm my nerves. My imagination spun out of control, this would help.

  I had plenty of nudes but no pictures of him just looking handsome. That's what I wanted, his handsome happy face smiling. I went onto a search engine and typed in Mason Harris expecting to see a picture of his face, him with friends. I could find someone on a search engine, no problem. I told myself as I typed in his name. There were a lot of results, more so than I would have thought. None of them were my Mason though.

  I didn't get upset at first. More people shared the name than I thought. There were too many results and I didn't find him yet. Exhaustion got the best of me. I was being silly. I shut down my computer and put my phone on the charger away from my bed. I set my alarm for the morning. If I wanted to get up I needed to walk to turn it off. I decided to go to sleep and simply find Mason Harris in the morning.

  11

  The next day I found as little as I did the night before. I didn't understand it. He worked a professional job. Even without knowing exactly what he did that had to be true. Everyone has a web presence. He didn't even have an account on any of those business networking sites or a phone number.

  I started to get concerned. I couldn't think of many good reasons a person could have for not wanting to tell you their name. What if he had a wife and a bunch of kids, or was a criminal? He could have been a murderer. With all those thoughts rushing through my mind the one that upset me most was the thought this had all been a joke. What if he wanted to screw me and to have an interesting story to go along with it? What if the time he spent with me meant nothing?

  Wednesday morning, I called information and asked for a Mason Harris locally. The operator informed me he had one match. I should have been skeptical of anyone with a landline, but desperate times and all. An old man answered the phone. He expected a call, because he answered the phone "Jim, is that you?" I told him, no. He made his displeasure about the interruption clear. I asked if he had a son Mason, and he hung up on me. I took that as a no.

  My body reacted riotously to not knowing his real name. It was a messed-up cocktail of stomach turning anxiety and lust. It was humiliating to be so aroused by deception. I don't know why it turned me on and it's not worth dwelling on. Each time I thought of him it got worse. It excited me to the point of pain. There's nothing like a mystery to keep you up. Especially, when you have a fantasy that the mystery would turn up in the middle of the night to fuck. I had the perfect recipe for insomnia.

  Thursday night I decided I couldn't take it anymore. I had a long day at work. I didn't know if it was actually a bad day or that's how I saw it. The anxiety threatened to tear me apart from the inside out. I tried to make myself sit down as I texted him, but manically paced the apartment instead.

  What's your real name?

  The anxiety made me uncouth.

  You know my real name.

  I couldn't breath as I read his words. He lied to me.

  Mason Harris?

  The next came a little slower.

  Well, Mason at least.

  I shivered in excitement for more than one reason. My heart pounded in my chest. Should I be relieved or not that he alluded to the truth?

  Is there a reason why you don't want me to know your last name?

  My fingers were clumsy as I tried to type. He took a while to answer me. I stopped pacing around my apartment. I stopped breathing long enough that passing out became a real concern. I was going insane.

  You never asked me what my name is. I also don't know yours. I never lied to you. You only overheard someone speaking to me. I do have a reason for not wanting to share it. It's not something I'm going to talk about in text.

  His words upset me. They hinted at what I already knew. I was dramatic and prone to overreaction. It didn't answer my question and further stated that he wouldn't answer it tonight. I still didn't know his name or why he didn't want me to know it. I had a simple reason for him not knowing my last name. He didn't ask. I could sense the hypocrisy I exuded but I couldn't seem to stop it.

  Green.

  I sent him my last name, trying to quell that sensation.

  My name is Mason. Yours is Claire. Isn't that enough? Can I still see you tomorrow?

  It took me a while, but I responded to him.

  If you'll explain, I'll see you tomorrow.

  I reluctantly agreed to a date not knowing why he would keep his name from me. I needed to get to the bottom of this. Also, I couldn't stay away from him.

  We'll talk tomorrow. Goodnight, beautiful dramatic girl.

  He had this magical way of complimenting me and irritating me in the same breath. I was impressed. I brushed away the emotions he stirred in me and set to work. I decided if he didn't want to tell me his name that would be okay. If I planned to see him tomorrow I would find it myself. He underestimated me if he thought that answer satisfied me.

  I went to my computer. I widened my search parameters to all local Masons. To say there were a lot was an extreme understatement. I guessed he had to be between twenty-five and thirty-five. I realized how silly it had been to enjoy knowing nothing about him. In hind sight I knew that I didn't want to answer those questions for myself. It was a relief at the time.

  There were about half as many results as before when I applied the age restrictions. There was still a daunting amount. I sifted through them with an intensity I don't ever remember having. If only I had this kind of determination to apply to long term goals in my life. It took me about half the night, and I looked at every possible person. Eventually, I found him.

  It was an old picture. At first, I almost missed it. The photo showed him as a teenager. I clicked the picture thinking I would explode from the stress of it. The name attached to the account was Mason Mason. I rolled my eyes. How incredibly helpful. I clicked through the photos seeing a young Mason. Some of them were preppy, taken on the expensive lawn of a private school. Somewhere in the cafeteria that had better food than
a five-star restaurant. In other pictures he looked kind of dirty and high.

  He was a rich kid. Anyone could see that. I started to wonder if he didn't work. He must have a trust fund large enough that it didn't matter. One of the pictures showed a mansion and the sprawling grounds of its estate. I wondered if that could be where he grew up. I couldn't see a number or any signage that would show where it was. I tried to imagine what his life would have been like. I came up blank, the idea of that much excess completely incomprehensible.

  I stopped at one photo. He looked eighteen. He had no shirt. His chest and stomach were well sculpted and sweaty. It didn't come off as gross like most guys but how models sweat. His hair hung long and shaggy, the way I would have preferred it. A girl wrapped around him liked a designer scarf. She was tall and gorgeous. Her hair moved around her like a halo long and blonde. She'd flat ironed it until it was pin straight and looked like shimmering gold. Her body was perfect, toned, tanned. She wreaked of money and proper grooming.

  They were twisted together in a passionate kiss. Her legs were wrapped around his waist as he held her up. Her arms twisted in that hair I longed for. It's hard to explain how it affected me. Watching his mouth in action turned me on. The girl looked gorgeous too it was a pretty picture. I liked looking at it.

  I wanted to keep looking at it even though a pit formed in my stomach. It took me a few minutes to understand it as jealousy. Rationally, I had no reason to be jealous of this girl who he loved years ago. Then I remembered that at least she knew his name. There were somethings to envy. The caption read "When you've got the right girl." Tagged in the photo was Rebecca LaMontagne.

  I followed the link to her profile. There were a lot of pictures of her to say the least. All her schooling and accomplishments were listed proudly and at the top of the page. I clicked on the page for her private high school. It took me a little while of searching and discovering a lot I didn't need to know like how much it cost to attend. That unfortunate glimpse into how much money his family had was one I could do without. I found the page for their alumni after a while.