Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
VIOLET
The low-key panic is in my veins all day, and as it remains long after the hangover wears off, I know what it’s about.
I’ve known what it’s about ever since I dropped off my computer.
I sigh and try to do some work with my notes. I have a very old computer, but while it still works, some of the keys are screwed up, and the OS is super old. But it’s good to read emails from, and you can bet I’ve amassed a few for the whole damage control meetings tomorrow.
Isaac has sent through a few, and for the first time, there’s nothing creepy in them. Even the one-on-one emails to me. He wants my input on a couple of things tomorrow to handle what he’s called the deep fake AI of the leaked photos and video.
But he’s given me a side job for the morning to try and find the girls in the photos. The ones he thinks are The Ghost.
I don’t point out if it’s deep fake, then how do they exist, and how does he know.
My notes, however, which I’ll talk to him about off the record, are simple.
I mean, sure, I’ll do what he’s asked, but I don’t know how to find either masked woman.
I don’t even know what club it was all taken at or if it was a hotel room, or what.
I’m one hundred percent convinced there’s nothing AI about it, but that’s for a delicate approach.
Off the record.
I personally think he should own it, try and invite a broad spectrum of marginalized people into his base, truly represent all.
He could call it birthday fun gone astray, or just play it down a little but own it.
Others do worse.
When I finish all my notes, I cook some pasta, throwing open my windows in my studio to air it out, and eat while watching a crap movie, the kind I got mad at Jack for putting on.
And every now and then, I check my phone to see if there’s anything from Cade.
I almost jump a mile when a text comes through from him.
Does he have my number? Clearly, he must.
I don’t remember giving it to him, and why would I have in the past? There’s been no reason for my boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend’s brother to call or text me, or me him. But then again, knowing Jack, he gave it to him.
Cade
Vi. Cade here. Running diagnostics on your computer, trying to find the issue.
Me
Can my work be saved?
My heart starts to hammer as the panic starts to swirl.
Cade
Your work will be fine, but I need to fix it. When it’s done, do you want me to drop it at your place?
Me
No! You’re doing me a favor. I can pick it up.
Cade
I can drop it at the office.
But I don’t want him there. I don’t want anyone I know there. And besides, it’s still out of the way for him.
Me
Just let me know, and I’ll pick it up.
Cade sends me a thumbs-up emoji and for some reason, I find myself smiling.
I settle in and watch the rest of the terrible movie.
I’m drifting off, half in a dreamy state when my phone buzzes.
I groan, and it pulls me back into the wakeful world.
It’s probably Jack. Texting or calling me late at night, knowing I’ve got work in the morning is so him. Actually, being Jack, the idea I’ve got work in the a.m. might not even cross his mind.
But it doesn’t buzz again.
Jack’s not a one-time texter when he needs something. Actually, Jack’s a caller. Texting is often too time-consuming for him. Even if he’s going to beg for me to give him another chance, which I can practically smell in the air. He’ll do it, soon. So…why not now?
I grab my phone and pull it to me, but there’s no text.
An email?
What if there’s some emergency with work? Political analysts and advisors aren’t nine to five, especially when there’s a firestorm or a campaign or both.
This is both.
The last tendrils of sleep evaporate, and I click open the phone, going to my email.
It’s not Jack.
It’s not work.
My heart thumps hard against my ribs.
The Ghost.
It’s an email from The Ghost.
Oh, hell, what did I say to him in that message I sent?
Heat starts at my toes and burns, rapid-fire all the way up to my scalp.
What the actual fuck did I say to warrant a response, and do I want to read it?
It’s one thing letting my fantasies spool out on a forum and having someone answer, or me reading other ones that unfold like stories, but it’s another thing to exchange messages with someone.
I know, I’ve done it.
They want to meet.
I don’t want to be raped, not in real life. I don’t think anyone does. But the fantasy is intoxicating. The fantasy of a hot man who takes control and shows me what it is I really want by giving me orgasms I’m not responsible for is intoxicating.
Just like the fantasy of being shared and treated as nothing more than something to fuck.
My entire body throbs.
I understand I don’t want the reality of men I don’t know all treating me like holes to fuck. It’s a horrible thought, but at the center, the fantasy is like salted caramel; utterly engulfing and addictive.
Because in that fantasy while they treat me as a thing to fuck and give them pleasure, they’re giving me everything. Worshiping me and…
Fantasy is just that. Reality is something different.
I love the idea of having my control taken from me, of being something worthy of being chased down, of being hot enough a man might lose his mind over. I love the thought of someone guiding me and showing me all the sides of obedience and submission, of being theirs.
Shit.
Do I open it?
Ghost’s a fantasy I don’t go that close to.
I’ve hovered around the idea of him, and in my mind he’s this impossible creature, a voice of dark flowing silk, a touch that defies reality.
He’s the ultimate controller, the ultimate master.
After all, look at his deft and dangerous control when he makes someone pay, look at how he lords it over those people, how he turns his hacking into art.
If I get too close to wondering what that would be like turned on me, in an erotic sense, it’s hard to breathe.
I don’t want to ruin the fantasy.
And if I delete the email without looking, I’ll hate myself.
I take a breath and click it open.
Text me.
555-039-2543
That’s it.
Text me.
A number.
Like he knows asking me to call is a step too far.
Or…he’s fucking with me.
But on that forum, all those girls who claimed they’d fucked him were light on details, even generic ones, like he texted me or he asked for my number.
They dove into their particular ‘experiences’ which were so varied from vanilla to spankings and St. Andrew’s crosses that I suspect they were writing about their own fantasies and those things only happened in their heads.
What do I know? Maybe that’s what he does, spends his days and nights fulfilling fantasy after fantasy with different women and men…because there were dudes on the site, too.
I almost giggle.
Almost.
Thing is, it dies in my throat, because I don’t know what to do. It’d be crazy to text him. Giving him, a stranger, my number is vastly different from an email address or in this case, the one on his site that came through to my main account.
I’d be not only crazy, but someone with a death wish.
Lia will be up, she’s not a morning person, but I don’t call or text her. Mainly because I know what she’d say. She’ll tell me to do it.
But after ten minutes of dithering, I pull the trigger and do what I wasn’t going to.
I call Lia.
“So, let me get this straight. The Ghost gave you a number and asked you to text and you’re calling me? Why?”
“Because—”
“I mean, you know what I’m going to say. Why the fuck haven’t you done it already? Why are you looking to me for permission when you’re a grown-ass girl, and we both know you’re stalling so it’ll be too late.” She takes a breath. “And what did you say to him?”
“I can’t remember.” I look up at the shadows on my ceiling. “I’d be crazy to do this.”
Lia scoffs. “You’d be crazy not to.”
“What if he’s a psycho? I’ve got no idea who he is. And this isn’t an email exchange, it’s him asking for my number.”
“Guys ask for numbers all the time. How’s this different?”
“I don’t know…it just is.”
Lia groans. “Because he’s a hacker and women are all throwing their cyber panties at him? Get a grip, girl.”
“I’m trying to. But you’re making it hard. You’re making me sound crazy for being hesitant over doing something insane.”
“You want to do it, and you called me to make me tell you to do it.” Lia sighs. “Download an app that’ll give you another number, so you can keep your identity private. You both can be private. Do you think he gave you his home one?”
I…I never thought of that. “Okay, that’s actually a good idea and a good point.”
“I’m always full of good ideas. And with your privacy intact, you can let your hair down, have a little fun, right?”
She’s right. There’s nothing to stop me from doing just that and staying safe.
“I see your point, Lia. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“With all the hot tea.”
When I hang up, I download an app and set it up, so my number is hidden.
What did I call myself?
Vi2l—as in vital, but it looks like Vi 21, too. I probably should have thought of something else. Like a real pseudonym. But it’s too late now.
My heart thumps so hard it bangs in my ears, and I try a few texts. But in the end, I settle on something so bland and neutral I think it’ll do.
Vi2l
Hey.
He replies almost instantly.
Ghost
Do I need to caution you on the dangers of giving your number to random strangers?
Vi2l
You told me to text you.
Ghost
Do you always do what you’re told?
I think about it.
Vi2l
Depends on the situation.
Ghost
And what do you think this situation is?
My breath catches, hot, at the top of my throat.
Vi2l
I don’t know.
Ghost
Sure, you do.
My palms start to sweat.
Vi2l
Are you planning on hurting me?
Ghost
Only in ways you want me to.
I struggle to breathe.
This is out of my world experience. I’m in water, and there’s no land.
Vi2l
I’ve never done this before. I—
Ghost
Are you scared?
Vi2l
I’m not stupid. I should be scared. This is out there. Isn’t it?
Ghost
Some might say the things you told me you wanted me to do to you were out there.
Vi2l
I don’t remember.
Ghost
Answer this. Do you have fantasies you never tell anyone about, things you want done, forced on you within the perimeters of a safe place?
It’s the moment of truth and…
I can’t.
Vi21
I took precautions to protect my identity, so I can just back out.
Ghost
I think that’s exactly what you want…all your fantasies brought into being. But it can be daunting to face that.
I’m moments from hyperventilating.
Vi21
I should go.
Ghost
You can. But remember what I do for a living. I hacked the pentagon once, got in, looked around, and got out, and they never knew. That’s something you now have on me.
Vi2l
I think I don’t want to know that. Let’s leave it as you don’t know who I am, and I’ll go.
Ghost
As I said, I’m a hacker, I got into the pentagon, a lot of other places. Do you really think deleting this exchange is going to stop me from finding out who you are if I wish to?
Vi2l
I have an app.
Ghost
That I can walk through in moments if I choose.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, what have I done?
Of course, some silly app isn’t about to protect me. I’m going to have to change my name, leave, start—
Ghost
But having said that, if you want to end this now, you can. And I’ve no plans to invade your privacy by getting your real number or anything else. Unless of course, you ask me to.
I suck in some air and try to settle my crazed thoughts.
Ghost
Any kind of kink play relies on boundaries, trust, and time. And you don’t have to do a thing. We don’t have to take it further than this. But not everyone out there’s like me.
I hold my breath.
Ghost
There are bad people out there, and I hope you’re careful with your encounters or exchanges with others. You need to be careful about who you trust.
I bite the corner of my lip a moment.
Vi2l
Can I trust you?
The answer isn’t immediate, but it doesn’t take long, either.
Ghost
That’s the wrong question.
Vi2l
How so?
Ghost
The only person you should be trusting is yourself. What does your gut say about me?
There’s a flare of something bright and clean in me, and I sit up, and think, then type.
Vi2l
That you’re either very clever and diabolical, or you’re being honest.
Ghost
I am very clever.
That makes me smile.
Vi2l
Mr. Clever, my gut’s saying you’re probably not a murderer, but that I should keep my guard up until I learn more about you.
Ghost
Good answer. So, let’s keep this casual until you feel more comfortable. It’s something I do, anyway. Even if we just flirt with this, or meet up, we need boundaries, and that comes from you being comfortable and us getting to know each other a little. Sound good?
I nod, then roll my eyes. And send him a yes.
Ghost
I’m guessing there’s no boyfriend on the scene?
Vi2l
Are you worried about him finding you and beating you up?
Ghost
Hardly. It’s more I’d be intrigued why you’re not sharing this dirty fantasy of yours with him rather than me.
I don’t bring up I can’t remember what I sent because whatever it was, it’d be in the perimeters of my sex fantasies and—oh, my god, I can’t believe I’m talking to him—even if I got really filthy, I’ve still got a good idea what I said.
Control.
Forced.
Filth.
Vi2l
I recently ended things with someone.
Ghost
I’m okay with rebound as long as you are. Or we can wait as long as you like.
If we take things to that level. If.
Ball’s in my court is what he’s saying.
Vi2l
No, it was a long time coming. I just put it off. But the final nail in the coffin came when he cheated on me in Vegas. On our anniversary.
Ghost
Sounds like you’re better off without him. Is that why you messaged me? It’s not a rebound thing, you want a palate cleanser? A distraction?
Vi2l
I don’t know why I did it. I sure as hell never expected you to reply.
Ghost
Honesty. I like it.
Do you regret it?
Me: No…
He doesn’t answer for a while.
And then my phone lights up, and my clit throbs.
Ghost
You might by the time I’m finished with you.