Flirting with Danger


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Flirting with Danger

It was early spring, yet it had been unseasonably hot for the past week. Preparing for bed she opened the window to let in some fresh air and hopefully force out the thick, stale air that had risen to collect in her second story bedroom.

Her three kids were spending the entire weekend with their dad in his condo across town. She had been looking forward to having this time all to herself, to do her favourite thing – write.

She had been toying with the idea of writing erotica for some time. Recently she’d written a few short erotic stories to post in her blog. The response was encouraging. Her “likes” on Facebook increased and her readership peaked with these types of sexy stories. Ah, Facebook. She loved Facebook. It had allowed her to reconnect with so many people from her past. Many were guys she had dated at one time but had long ago lost touch with. It was fun to see where they were in their lives now. She had even met up with a couple of them…to see if there were still any sparks between them. Why not? She was single again and so were they. No sparks. Not yet anyway.

Facebook was how she met her “friend” Devon. He was “friends” with someone else that she knew on Facebook. One day he followed a link she’d posted to her blog and read one of her stories; one of her erotic stories. He was immediately intrigued and started to read through all of her older archived stories. Wow, this woman is sexy! He went through every picture in her photo albums (what some refer to as “creeping” a page) and he was delighted to see that she was beautiful too. She was naturally photogenic and often flashed an amazing smile. He loved how, in many of the photos, she looked directly into the camera with what he perceived as a sexy glint in her eye.  It made his pulse quicken. He had to find out more. He started sending her direct messages and was excited when she responded to him right away. They began emailing each other back and forth with long, long letters full of humour and flirting. She was so forthright and honest, it took his breath away. The emails became more and more intimate and before long they were talking on the phone with each other for hours on end. She desperately wanted to meet him in person.

He knew that could never happen. Never.

He always had a quick, believable excuse why it couldn’t work for him to meet with her in person whenever she led the conversation that way. It annoyed her a little but she decided to let it go. All in good time, she thought, and put it out of her mind.

He encouraged her writing. He liked to write himself he said. In fact, he had written down a dream he had, well more like a day dream, but it was a day dream featuring her. Would she like to read it? Hell yes, she’d said, so he emailed it to her. It was very erotic;  his fantasy began with him watching her sleep. In his story her eyes were closed and she was unaware that he was standing over her – watching her. She mustn’t wake up.

This was her kind of writing. She loved it. She loved it so much she even felt inspired to write the next chapter of the story; the story from her perspective. She began her version with her female character also in bed, eyes closed, pretending to sleep. In her story the woman always knew what was happening. She was still in control and loving every moment of it. His story sparked her creativity. Not only did she feel inspired, she felt that the writing itself was pretty good. She could imagine them working together and creating something together in this format. Imagine. The same story but told from his perspective, and then told from her perspective. People will love it! She was so stoked.

She devoted the whole weekend while her kids were away to writing – writing erotic fantasies with the idea that he could write his male perspective to the same story. What a great writing exercise. Who knows where it might lead? The fact that she still hadn’t met him gnawed at her a little but she dismissed the thought and decided instead that it was probably better for their creative process not to meet at this time. There – rationalized!

She switched off her bed side lamp. It took her eyes a minute to adjust to the dark room but when the shadowy outline of her furniture came into focus she adjusted her position so she could look toward her open window. Her eyes felt heavy as she watched her curtain move gently, hypnotically in the breeze.  It was a relief to feel cool air gently waft across her cheek. She would sleep better now. She always woke with a headache if her room was too warm. Her bed felt so cozy and she was utterly spent from a full day of writing. Her lips formed a small satisfied smile as she drifted off. Her breathing became rhythmic and deep. In and out. In and out.

She didn’t see his gloved hand slowly move her curtain all the way open. She didn’t wake when the street light shone directly across her face. He never made a sound as he moved towards her bed. While she slept he stood only a few inches away – watching her.

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