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“Cancer.”

The word hung in the air like a suffocating cloud. How could that be? He was only, what, 26? How is it possible that this vibrant, exciting, intelligent man had been betrayed by his own body?

“Oh,” I typed, trying to think of what to say. Wanting so desperately to say the right words but in my mind all I could think was “why” over and over.

“I’ve been sick for a while.” The words made me feel like I had been whisked into a tornado. A while? What was “a while?” I had known him for a year online…we had flirted and talked about this and that, sharing some laughs and a few difficult times, but nothing so important as this. I didn’t even know his real name! And NOW he tells me…now that the flirting had gotten to be my biggest pleasure online. Now that I had started to think about him more and more often, relishing the emails sent, loving to hear about anything and everything important to him.

“What’s the prognosis?” I typed it, wanting so much to hear that it was nothing. Wanting to hear that it was some ‘little’ kind of cancer. A little spot on his cheek from too much Georgia sun, perhaps?

“It’s my lung.” And again, the cloud fell over me. Lung cancer. Not exactly an easy cancer.

And so the conversation went. He was on his way to the Doctor the next day. The choice was to be made about a pretty serious surgery, removing the traitorous lung or not. I encouraged him as best I could and the words just sort of fell from my fingertips in an easier manner than I would have imagined. I didn’t have to think with this man. I just typed as I would speak, trying my best to convey the faith I suddenly felt in my heart that he would be alright. I thought perhaps I had made my point and so we signed off for the night.

Once again, I dreamed about him. But it wasn’t about the “C” word. It was about everything I had known before. His humor, the way he winked at me when he was being flirtatious or naughty, picturing his fingertips on the keyboard of his computer, caressing the keys. There was nothing sexual about my dream, really, but I awoke to find my heart racing and the thought of those fingertips on my mind…. My dream told me everything I needed to know, although it was pretty vague, like a series of snapshots. Nowhere in that mental picture album was his health problem. There was no thought of it when the thoughts were purely subconscious, so it didn’t matter. And anyway, we were just friends. Friends that flirt.

I put the thought out of my head and went about my day, thinking of him in vague terms and turning off my thoughts when they turned more specific. I had made the decision to allow him into my world, and I would, as any friend should, support him with whatever decisions he made at the Doctor’s office. I prayed, though, that God would guide him toward the right decision.

That night I played a game online, really hoping I might run into him, as I had been doing so much lately. It was getting late, though, and I knew he was tired most of the time. I was quite sure he was sleeping, his body trying to regain the strength that the big day had probably taken out of him. I sighed and told the other players I was tired and going to bed. Just before I logged off I was blindsided by his name in the gameroom.

My fingers flew like the lightning that had gone up my spine at the sight of his name. “NG NG NG!!!” and he typed several brackets with my screen name inside them, signifying a hug. All I wanted to do was feel it…

I stayed another hour that night, playing the game and flirting mercilously with him. His quips and comebacks were even faster than usual tonight, and the flirting between us raged back and forth in the room, amusing all of the other players to no end. After that hour I knew he was tired and suggested that he get to bed, and I did the same. The goodbye was long and drawn out, like two 13 year olds saying “No, YOU hang up!” I laughed to myself and he did as well when I mentioned that I was having a hard time turning off my computer while he was still available. He disappeared, like the gentlemen he was, shortly thereafter, ensuring me some rest.

I had laid in my bed for an hour, unable to stop thinking about him when I realized I had not even asked him about his Doctor’s appointment. I sat bolt upright in bed, my heart pounding a million miles a minute. Would he think I had forgotten or I didn’t care? I hadn’t forgotten…I had just gotten so swept up with the flirting and the light that eminated from him that I had completely put the “C” word out of my head! I hopped out of bed and onto the computer, glad I hadn’t closed it down for the night and hurriedly typed an email, sure it would sound trite. “I thought about you all day, but just didn’t get a chance to ask you about the appointment. Tell me how it went.” I signed off and went back to bed.

I had an answer the next day and hurriedly opened my email. He had decided that the surgery was the best option. I canlı bahis felt like he had made the right decision and my heart swelled with hope. I signed onto the game and hurriedly searched the room. There he was….

We spoke a lot that night. About his fears, about how nobody else online knew what was going on with his health. About his life and mine and the things that seemingly “clicked” between us. The flirting became pretty comfortable, not more than I would with anyone else online that I liked. I was very careful about that. I just didn’t want to lose his friendship because I carried some kind of schoolgirl crush on him in my pocket like a lucky charm.

Suddenly, things changed. One flirty comment I made about kissing his neck elicited a more serious comment, and I held my breath waiting for his “lol” to come rolling off his fingertips. It didn’t. Then suddenly my mind was racing, thinking about him more sexually than I ever had. I couldn’t play the game. My points dropped. Players I knew were confused, asking if I was alive and still playing. I was so lost in the thought of the warm skin over his pulse that I almost signed out twice, blushing the entire time.

And then, there it was…a sentence I barely remembered typing. “I would kiss your neck for hours.” Did I type that??? Oh Lord, what if he said “well, yeah, if I let you!” I held my breath and waited what seemed an eternity for the round to end and him to respond. My fingers hovered on my mouse, ready to click the black “X” at the top of the page as soon as I’d been put in my rightful place. What the hell was I doing??

“I’d let you.”

That was all he said. That was it. I didn’t know what to do or what to say at that point, so amazed that he had chosen those words. I wanted him to let me. I wanted him to want me to. I wanted…so many things that my mind just raced. And then suddenly things were back to normal. Light flirting. Laughing and being the entertainment in the game room. Others laughing at our antics. I had imagined the entire thing, apparently. Wishful thinking. And thinking I was! As much fun as I was having, I couldn’t get the thought out of my head. Kissing his neck. Feeling his pulse beneath my warm tongue… and I admitted as much in a flash of bravery that shocked even me. When he admitted as much in return I was completely lost. The game went on, but I was completely lost in other thoughts, and I lost miserably. I noticed, though, that he was playing well.

“I should be getting to bed, Bunny” he said and I knew it was true. It was an hour later in Georgia than it was in Nebraska. He was tired and frankly, so was I. And then, due to lack of sleep or simply bravery, I did it.

“Do me a favor? Don’t talk for a minute.”

And with those words I had sealed it. I was going to take what I needed from him, albeit only online.

I typed that I put my hands on his face and lowered my lips to his, breathing in his breath and caressing his tongue with mine. In that moment, there was nothing in the outside world. Nothing except his mouth.

I apolgoized profusely and to my dismay he reacted positively to my words. “I have wanted that all night.”

All night? What? He had? My mind was racing as I saw the letters pop up on the screen. I couldn’t say anything for a moment…but I didn’t have to. He touched my face and kissed me. He kissed me this time. Was I dreaming? Why? All I knew for sure is that my breath had caught in my throat and I was trembling. Trembling at words on a screen. I couldn’t focus and I felt like I would never breathe again. I hurriedly whispered a quick goodbye and left the game room, desperately sorry I had as soon as my screen went blank. I had run. This was crazy. I wanted things I couldn’t have.

And so it went. I ran into him again the next day and we talked. Neither mentioned the kisses, or their effect. We did, however discuss sex. We talked for hours about what we liked and didn’t, our experiences and what we truly wanted. He had been ignored by the women he had been with. I had been hurt. And all the time I just wanted to touch him. With every quip about sex and every story about dissatisfaction, I wanted to fix it. How could those women be so blind? Although I’m sure being touched by his hands would be heaven, how could you not want to touch and give pleasure in return? In my mind I likened it to meeting an angel. They lay their hands on you and you feel blessed, but wouldn’t you want to touch their wings?

And so that has led me here. Onto this plane bound for Georgia. On the pretense of a trade show, I arranged this trip through my work. My destination was about 100 miles from his home and I had offered to see him while I was “in the area.” Could he see through the guise? Did he know the only reason I was heading for Georgia was to see him in person? Hoping desperately to see in his eyes the passion of those few shared kisses weeks before? Would he treat me like a sister? Like a friend? My mind bahis siteleri raced through the entire flight and I felt half dead when my feet touched Georgia soil.

I grabbed a cab to my hotel and settled in, glancing at the clock to make sure I had enough time to settle in before I was supposed to meet him for dinner. Him. It still amused me that we had not exchanged names. Not real names, anyway. How could I feel like I knew so much about someone without even knowing what moniker his parents had saddled him with? I giggled at the thought that his name might be “Fred” or something equally dull-sounding. Would he mind that my parents had named me Sandra Dee? I certainly wasn’t a blonde bombshell.

A knock at my door 15 minutes later startled me. Shrugging, I went to the door and opened it. The bellman stood in the doorway smiling at me. “You have a visitor, Ma’am, but for safety reasons we will not allow him up the elevator without your okay.” A visitor? I glanced at the clock and realized it was an hour and a half early for him to be showing up! I swallowed hard and asked who it was. “He said to just tell you it was NG.” I glanced down at my clothes, rumpled from the flight and told the bellman to let him up. As he walked away I hopped into the hallway and said “Sir!” As he turned I blushed, looked down and asked simply “what does my visitor look like?” He just smiled and gave me the thumbs up as I slunk back into my room, heart pounding.

A few moments later, after I had brushed my teeth and thrown on a different shirt there was a knock at the door and I hesitated, took a deep breath and opened it. There he stood. Tall. I hadn’t thought about that. He had to be at least 6’1 or 6’2. Compared to my 5’6 frame he was much taller than I was. I let my eyes travel up from his feet to his face, blushing and stammering, trying to spit out a few words that seemed to tangle on my tongue. When my gaze reached his eyes, I stopped dead in my tracks and the words spilled out of my mouth in a rush…”I can’t believe you’re here!” The hug came as quickly as the rush of words and I felt his thin frame tense just briefly before his arms wound around my back and he squeezed me tight. “Can’t believe *I* am here?” he quipped.

Things came easily after that. He sauntered over and plopped down on the bed, sitting at the foot looking like a dream as I nervously took the chair opposite him. We talked briefly about the flight, his car trip and I began to regain my composure. I’m not a nervous person, even around new people, and my natural effervescence soon took over as I kicked off my shoes and curled up in the chair, talking endlessly about everything, just so content to be in his presence. Sometimes he smiled and laughed and he looked so happy that it took my breath away.

I couldn’t help noticing that he looked tired after about an hour and I mentioned his treatments. How were they going? Was he okay traveling this far to see me? He assured me that he was fine. Other than getting tired easily and not being able to walk for too long a period at a time he was pretty happy at the moment. I blushed and he laughed, spurring me into action.

In a flash I was across the little room and hugging him with all the strength I had. I felt his arms go around me and hug me back and I felt like the world was a perfect place.

We broke the hug and I offered dinner downstairs. It was a pretty nice place, so I needed to change my clothes and begged 20 minutes to shower and change. He laughed and said I looked just fine, but I felt a compulsion to look nicer for him, wanting to see what he would think. After about two minutes of arguing I handed him the remote control for the tv in the room and he aquiesced.

I slid into the bathroom and turned on the shower, taking a deep breath. I needed to get away for just a moment and gather myself anyway, and a shower would be the perfect 10 minute escape. As I slipped my clothes off and into the shower I did a lot of fast thinking. “This is great. He’s charming and kind and funny in real life, too. It’s okay that he hasn’t looked at you in any way that would tell you he’s interested. You’re blessed just to know him.” And I was. I didn’t pretend to myself that the attraction wasn’t there on my part, but I came to terms very quickly with the fact that those few stolen kisses weeks before were a one shot thing. I scrubbed the travel dust from my hair and body with my favorite vanilla scented shampoo and soap and felt much better as I emerged from the shower. Toweling my hair off, rubbing it over my shoulders and breasts and then down my legs before I made a startling realization. My clothes were still hanging in the other room!

Sticking my head out the door, just a little bit, I stammered. “Um. I seem to have left my clothes in the closet. You wouldn’t want to be sweet and hand them to me, would you?” Without even looking away from the television I heard his voice in amusement. “Nope. I don’t. Guess you’ll just have bahis şirketleri to come out and get them.”

What??!

“Oh, come on. Fun’s over. Hand me my robe at least. It’s on the chair by the bed.”

“Nope.”

I could hear the amusement in his voice as I saw his head finally turn to look at my face peeking through the door. The grin on his face was priceless. I couldn’t help laughing, too.

OK. I’ll just treat this like I would any of my male friends. He has no interest, so me in a towel isn’t going to be any big deal, I thought. I took a deep breath and wrapped the towel around me and stepped into the room. “Fine” I said, laughing at him like I didn’t care. I even took my time at the closet, pretty sure he wasn’t paying a bit of attention to me.

“Your hair is dripping down your back, by the way,” he said, voice lazy. I turned to smart off to him but before I could I caught his eyes travel up my leg to my exposed thigh where the towel came together. I blushed terribly and pulled the towel closed and yanked my clothes out of the closet, hell bent on getting my ass back in the bathroom where I could gather myself again. My own wishful thinking was getting the best of me as I saw his eyes follow me. I shook my head a little as I stood in the bathroom clutching my clothes to my chest, trying to catch my breath. “Stop it, Sandra.” Whispering to myself, I hurriedly put on my black bra and panties and toweled my hair yet again. As I slid my thigh-highs (worn for comfort, not for sex appeal) up my legs I calmed down quite a bit. He’s such a great friend. This is wonderful. I keep saying those things over and over, willing myself to stop looking at his mouth, to stop thinking about being more than his friend. Much more.

I took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom, snidly throwing a “thanks for your help” at him as I reached down to grab my black heels and slide them on my feet.

“You just didn’t ask for the right kind of help, or I’d have gladly obliged!” His voice was full of humor, but when I turned around his eyes were staring right at me…burning a hole through my facade. Or so I thought.

“oh yeah? And what kind of help would you have offered, smart ass?” I had a grip now. I could flirt with my friends, so I could flirt with him.

“I’d have helped you towel off, of course. I guess I’ll just have to save my help for when you need that dress unzipped.”

“Dinner.” It’s all I said as I stood by the door and opened it, gesturing for him to hurry up.

We walked downstairs and I could sense that he was a little tired. When he seemed to lose his balance all of the sudden I instinctively reached out to him and put my arm around his waist. He smiled. “Better?” I asked. He smiled and put his arm around much shoulder. “Much,” he said. And I chose to believe that it was about the balance issue, and not my arm around him.

Dinner was lovely. He ordered a glass of wine for me, which I was obliged to drink, but only after I warned him about its effects on me. “Just so you know,” I informed him, taking a sip and letting it slide down my throat, “wine makes me relaxed. I’ll tell you absolutely anything after three glasses.” Some women say that kind of thing to excuse their behaviour. With me it’s a genuine warning. All of my censors shut off after three glasses.

He just smiled and ordered his dinner from the waiter and then whispered something to him before I ordered. “What was that?” I asked. “oh….nothing.” I cocked one eyebrow and just decided it was fine and took another sip of the white wine before me.

As our salads arrived the conversation was getting pretty comfortable again. We talked about our mutual love of animals and music, the differences in childhoods and our college years. As the salad was placed in front of me I was a little shocked to see a bottle of wine being brought to the table by the wine steward. “What is THIS?” I asked. He just grinned at me and cocked his head to the side, his smile charming as he simply shrugged.

Dinner was lovely, as was the bottle of wine. It seemed like my glass was always full, thanks to his constant refilling of my glass. I knew he hadn’t had even a full glass, and probably shouldn’t have even that much. The bottle was gone pretty soon after dinner and we were laughing and I was telling him all the stories I never tell anyone.

“So. When you kissed me in that game room, did you really want to?” His voice was casual as he relaxed back into his chair, eyes on me and a grin on his face.

“I refuse to answer that!” I laughed slightly nervously, picking up my wine glass and moving to take another drink to cover my embarrassment. As I brought it to my lips I stopped dead in my tracks and looked over the glass at him. “I get it! I know what you’re doing now! Well, if you want to know, I’ll tell you. I have nothing to hide.”

I waited for him to excuse me from the question, but he simply looked at me with a curious smile on his face. That’s when my personality kicked in overtime. I’m always honest and I’m never afraid to say what I think. By God, if he wanted to know, I was going to tell him and he would be the one that ended up blushing!

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