Page 10 of The Roommate Subtext

Thanks, he replied. It’s the price of anonymity.

So this was about his identity. Maybe someone recognized him somewhere. Are you famous? Am I chatting with a celebrity? She added a shocked-face emoji and a wink.

You’ve figured me out. I’m Ben Affleck. She smiled at the phone. Internet Kink Guy had a sense of humor.

It all makes sense now. You want me to call you Ben or Benji? Maybe get some Dunkin?

Dunkin does sound good right now.

His playfulness was endearing. Maybe he’d be open to more of an actual conversation. Serious question, she asked. Do you not play with anyone at all anymore? Only write these stories? That doesn’t seem like a good substitute for the real thing.

This time, the silence stretched out without even any dots appearing. Maybe she’d upset him. But she really wanted to know. And it wasn’t like he’d logged out; he was still in the chat. Finally, the message arrived.

It’s not a good substitute. But I don’t have another option right now, so I make do.

Maggie felt kind of sad for the guy, which was another surprise. Maybe that’s what he relied on: using someone’s pity against them. What about online? Sexting?

Seems like another poor substitute for the real thing.

She huffed. This was some serious hard-to-get behavior. Probably a better substitute than typing alone. At least text would be reciprocal. She sent her message and waited for his reply.

Curious Rose, are you propositioning me?

Maggie grinned at the phone. Took him long enough. How else was she going to learn what he was like to play with?

What if I am? she typed. Maybe I like the thought of somebody telling me what to do.

Her message went to “read” for a moment or two. A very long moment. This was a more delicate negotiation than she’d been expecting. She was persuading him, rather than the other way around.

Finally, his reply came. Tell me what turns you on.

The words were written, but she could hear a voice asking her that question, murmuring in her ears, and her heart rate quickened. Her first instinct was to tell him what she thought he’d want to hear. Something about whips and chains, or whatever it was that kinky people were into. But if she made it up, he’d surely see through her eventually.

Instead, she could share her actual thoughts. The anonymity of the app made it easier. She sent one sentence at a time, letting her texts line up down the screen.

Your story was really unsafe.

I would never do that.

But it turned me on.

I think I would like being helpless like that.

Only if I trusted the person.

Although I think the danger turned me on, too.

I like the idea of being used for someone else’s pleasure.

I’ve never stopped right at the edge before, but I think I might like to try that.

I like the way he made her wait.

And the thought of what she has to do to come is fucking hot.

There, is that enough?

She set down the phone, wiped her sweaty palms on her pajama bottoms. All she’d done was send him a short confession, and she was burning up all over. She grabbed her water again and downed a few gulps.