5PM (3 page)

“Oh, yeah, that’s it. I’m getting so wet now,”
she types.

“What the fuck’s going on here?”
a new chat bubble appears in the scene, and as the offending avatar loads, I see the blonde from last night, dressed in a short black skirt with a short sleeved white blouse. Her hair is in a ponytail and not flowing free like last night, but the name doesn’t lie—BluesGirl88 is back to see me.

“I was just chatting with my friend who was showing me some of the things this chat scene does,”
I type.

“I guessing rubbing boobs must be one of the highlights, but I must ask, do you rub the boobs of all your female friends?”
BluesGirl88 asks.

“Not as many as I’d like,”
my typing grows in cheekiness.

Her avatar is on the sand. “
Get over here now
.”

“Gee, you found yourself a bossy one there, Terry,”
DancerGirl says.

“
Who the hell asked you... slut,”
BluesGirl says.

“Go fuck yourself, psycho.”

“Hey, girls, can’t we all just get along?”
my avatar says.

“Listen here, Terry. It’s either her or me. I didn’t come here for a ménage á trois with two guys,”
BluesGirl88 says.

“What the fuck?”
DancerGirl asks.

“You were rubbing a man’s tits, Terry. So if you want to stay here and pursue some homo fantasy of yours, that’s fine. As they say, people can be anyone they want on an internet chat site.”

“Is this true?”
I ask the accused.

“Tell the truth or I’ll find you and hurt you,”
BluesGirl88 says.

“You’re not real and you can’t hurt me, so don’t throw stupid threats around,”
DancerGirl says. Her avatar starts laughing hysterically.

BluesGirl88 transforms into a ninja in full white attire, including the head covering. She has a samurai sword in her left hand and swings it around in a high arc from behind and over her head, and it connects with the neck of her target.

The beach scene coupled together with the lack of gore animation enabled for the DancerGirl avatar results in the sword going straight through the character’s neck without decapitating her.
“That was cool but pointless. Yes, I’m a guy, but please don’t tell anyone.”

BluesGirl88 invites me to a private chat, and I soon find myself materialising in her virtual mansion again. I close off the chat with the other woman, or should I say man, and find myself in the entertaining room on the second level of the giant house. She appears in a matching white lace crop top with G-string panties, and picks a spot on the carpet and starts dancing.

“Please be seated for the show,”
she types,
“and make sure you’re wearing something... comfortable.”

I zoom in on her, and she’s dancing like the highest paid exotic dancer at an exclusive gentleman’s club. My head stops at the term and breaks it down, amusement growing from it. When I was a boy, my mother told me how gentlemen behaved, and I find it hard to believe ogling a naked woman while swilling booze qualifies someone as a gentleman. I click on the couch and my avatar sits down. Then I give him an instant costume change, and he’s wearing nothing but a pair of black cotton boxer shorts.

“So how did you know she was really a man?”
I ask her.

“You can just tell. It comes with experience and time on this site. The men who try and pose as women here generally act a certain way. They don’t care that in real life they’re chatting with another man, because men are visual creatures and what they see is a man and woman engaging in heterosexual acts, which they then use to assist them as they fist pump the trouser snake.”

“You have a way with words, and obviously, a hell of a quick typist. Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Lots of things, but I’m not about to advertise my shortcomings.”

There’s a shiny pole in the middle of the animated room we’re in, and her avatar materialises, instantly swinging on it in tune to a slow rock song. I look at my scotch bottle and see I’ve almost drained it.

It certainly explains why I’m feeling so light headed, almost carefree to anything happening in the real world outside of this desktop computer. Here there is no stupid office politics and a jerk-off boss. No sick kids and hour long commutes in the morning and late afternoon. The packet of potato chips is almost empty and I’m not feeling good in the stomach for it.

“You’ve gone quiet. Is something wrong?”
she asks.

“I’ve been drinking and put down the whole packet of chips. I’m too old for this shit.”

“So you’re not twenty-five years old then like your name says?”

“I was once.”

“So you lied about your age? It doesn’t surprise me. You don’t seem like a twenty-five-year-old. But age doesn’t matter here, does it? As long as we’re both consenting adults and we are the opposite sex to each other, I’m okay with it. But please tell me you’re not seventy.”

I type ‘LOL’ in a speech bubble and my avatar bursts out laughing.
“I’m thirty-nine, actually.”

“Well, you better not lie to me about anything else,”
she says, and her character loses her top.

“Wow, I love the way your boobs swing as you do that.”

“Like I said, I paid some good money for these. Have you been spending some money on yourself?”

I make my character’s cotton boxer shorts disappear, and his penis is visible and in its default erect state.

“Wow, that’s impressive. We should go to the top floor and test it out.”

“Lead the way, baby girl,”
I could face palm myself for the cheesy comment, but it’s too late once I hit enter and it’s on the screen.

Her character pops up in the bedroom. I zoom in and see she’s now fully nude. I send mine up there too and click on the bed. The bed has different points to click on and with each location my avatar goes, he engages in a different sexual action.

“You starting without me?”
she types, and she sends herself to the middle of the bed, lying on her back with her knees in the air. I soon find myself on top of her in what looks like missionary position sex.

I watch the animations from my chair, taking the last drink from my bottle. Every few minutes, BluesGirl goes to a different spot, and I follow her and we engage in intercourse in a different position. There’s not much typing going on, and if she’s doing what I’m doing while watching this from my chair, I know why.

I finally look at the time and see it’s three a.m.  I tell her I have to get up for work in a few hours, and I really should leave and go to bed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, and when I do, I want you to take me to a place you’ve bought. I can tell you’re a man who earns a lot so I don’t want to hear any whining about having to spend money.”
Her character is standing by the bed with her hands on her hips.

“I’ll see what I can find. Thanks for the fun tonight, BluesGirl.”

I leave the chat and exit the program. Where did the time go tonight—and what does it mean when I have myself as a pixel built entity having sex with another one? It’s not my physical body, but my mind was in the room with another’s mind, involved in intimate activities. I may not have been there in the real material form, but spiritually, I was with another woman.

I sneak into bed and Talissa doesn’t even move, nor does my son who’s sleeping in the middle of us for the second consecutive night. Here I am, looking at the woman who loves me and the little boy who looks up to me as if I’m some sort of hero.

I’m no hero, and after my actions tonight, I’m an awful husband.

Day 3

“Terry, wake up.
Terry.” I wake to my wife’s face and feel her hands rocking me. It’s nearly eight a.m. and I don’t remember my alarm going off at all.

“Yeah, I’m awake.”

“What time did you come to bed? Once I woke up at two and you still weren’t in yet.”

“Yeah, I know, sorry. I’m still brainstorming a business plan of mine, and I was coming up with all sorts of strategies.” Damn it, I’m lying through my teeth to cover my own sick self-serving activities from last night.

“I worry about you when you don’t sleep well. Get in the shower and I’ll have an extra strong coffee and cooked breakfast ready for you.” She gives me a big kiss on the lips. “Were you drinking last night?”

“I had a couple of scotches. It helps with the creative streak.”

She rubs a hand through my hair. “Please don’t keep doing this. I love you.” I receive another kiss on the lips, and she smiles at me.

I could cry. She’s the most beautiful woman inside and out, and I’m doing sneaky shit behind her back while she’s comforting the boy we brought into this world a little over seven years ago.

I shower, drink my coffee, and eat some bacon and eggs at the table with Talissa and the kids, and I barely say anything. Why am I carrying so much guilt about this virtual blonde girl? I kiss my kids goodbye and after I give my wife a big kiss, I say, “I love you, so much. Please don’t ever forget it.”

I take a large hot thermos flask of coffee with me to work. I have about forty-five minutes to do a trip to work, which usually takes me just under an hour

* * * * *  

“Geez, Terry, you
look even worse than yesterday,” Roger says as I get into the office at about five minutes past nine. The rest of the staff are already there, even Phelps.

“Did you forget to shave or just couldn’t be bothered?” Phelps asks.

I put my hand on my jaw, and I come to the realisation that I clean forgot. I never forget to shave for the office. “Oh shit, sorry Phelps.”

He turns away from me and addresses the room. “As I said on Monday, we have a temp working with us for a while to help us catch up with the increasing workloads. If we do well enough, she may stay on longer.”

“She? Wow, I won’t be the only chick here anymore.” Kate smiles as the door opens and the new temporary agent walks in, and I could fall over when I see her.

“Everyone, this is Emily. Not only is she pretty, but she has a brain that’ll make any of you look like a single-celled organism in comparison.”

Kate is the first to shake hands with her. Then George and the cheeky smile-wearing Roger are next. I feel faint. I take a deep breath and am the last to shake hands with the blonde woman. She looks me in the eye as she says, “Pleased to meet you, Terry,” and flashes a smile.

My head’s spinning. She has long blonde hair in a ponytail, is wearing a white short-sleeved blouse with a short black business skirt. Her eyes are blue, and while being careful not to take a leering look at her, I do notice the blouse is very tight fitting against those high and mighty breasts of hers. I try not to look at her face too much; she reminds me of someone I had virtual sex within the early hours of the morning.

“Are you okay?” she asks me in a husky tone.

“I’m not feeling well today. I need the men's room,” I say, and run out of the office. I get to the men’s toilet and almost dive for the bowl in the solitary cubicle. My throat burns as my breakfast makes an exit and splashes into the water in the bowl, a couple of drops hitting me in the face.

How the hell am I supposed to work in this branch with the woman I’ve been chatting to on 3DDreamChat? I mean, it has to be her. She’s wearing the same clothes and has the real life husky voice like the one I heard the first night. And her face—the avatar has an uncanny resemblance to the woman.

It’s not possible. How can it be? A familiar voice cuts through the fog in my head.

“Terry, you okay, mate?”

“I’ll be fine,” I say and walk over to the hand basin to wash my face.

Roger grabs my shoulder and tries to spin me around to face him., “Hey, I’ve known you for a long time, even longer than Talissa has. What the fuck is going on?”

“It’s her, the girl from the chat. I chatted with her again last night and she was wearing the same clothes as Emily. Her face, her tits, even the voice—I’m telling you, it’s her!”

“Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound? Yeah, Emily is hot and definitely worthy of a night of hot steamy sex with yours truly, but she’s like a hundred other blondes with a nice body. You need to get it together and get back in there.”

“Roger, I’m not crazy. I’ll prove it to you by the end of the day.”

He sighs. “Buddy, I hope you can. Now, come on, let’s sell some properties.”

* * * * * 

I get back
to the morning brief, and Phelps gives me a glance as he carries on talking as if he doesn’t care whether I’m there or not. I tune in and out and steal an occasional glance at this Emily. At one stage, she catches me and gives me a small smirk. She’s messing with my head and all I can think about is whether she looks the same naked in real life.

Damn, I’m a pervert. It has to be the lack of sleep causing this paranoia making me think this chat girl has invaded my real life. There are millions of people living in this city, and what’s to say BluesGirl88 even lives here? She could be from another state or living in another country. But then again, I didn’t detect an accent.

The brief goes for another ten minutes before Phelps decides someone else should talk. He invites Emily to speak about herself.

She stands with one hand on her hip and the other to annunciate her words. Looking at all our attentive faces, she tells of her education in real estate sales, small business management, and her working holidays overseas, and lastly, she’s looking to anchor herself and settle down. Listening to her speak is like sexual chocolate, and she exudes enough confidence to put even Roger in his place if need be.

“So are you single?” George asks. 

Roger looks at him and raises his eyebrows as if to ask, “What the fuck?”

“Recently single, yes, but I don’t think I’m your type,” she winks as she says it.

George laughs. “Well, this is obvious. I thought we could go out for drinks sometime and you can see what’s on the market in this city. At least, if they’re not your type, they might be mine.”

“Hey, George, we’re not here to play Mr Matchmaker. Now, Emily, you can work with me today, and tomorrow you can go out there and do your magic,” Phelps says.

We all go our separate ways, and I watch from behind as this blonde newcomer follows the boss to his office. As she turns to the left to go in, she notices me checking out her arse as her head swivels, and then turns away as she steps into the dragon’s den of Phelps’ office, as we have nicknamed it.

I walk to my own office and close the door and the blinds. I boot up the work computer and wait for it to load. Why the company doesn’t update their system is beyond me. I have enough time to go make a mug of coffee and bring it back by the time the system is ready. I type in the internet address for 3DDreamchat and download the basic, low graphic version. I know this will take a while, so I call up Mrs Pellmont, but reach a younger sounding woman saying she’s her assistant who is able to confirm our appointment for Friday. Then I do a few followup calls for clients who have expressed interest in buying property in certain areas. I make mention to each of two or three properties that might possibly meet their needs. I do a kick-arse job of disguising my tiredness to help ensure I make them feel confident I am able to help them find their dream property.

Checking on the progress of my download, I see the chat program has completed so I install it. I know this goes against the company terms and conditions for using their computers, but I need to check to see if this BluesGirl88 is online so I can eliminate my suspicions. It takes a few minutes for the PC to install the software and then restart, so I refill my coffee mug again whilst waiting.

I’ve lost count of how much coffee I have ingested today, but I care little for those stats. The computer is ready and I run the 3DDreamchat software. Entering my username and password, I soon see there is no sign of the blonde I’ve spent hours chatting to online.

Damn, I’ve loaded contraband software to the company computer and haven’t achieved anything to dispel my suspicion about the chat girl and Emily being one and the same. I exit the program and make sure there isn’t an icon for it in my start menu, desktop screen, or quick launch buttons. Someone would actually have to search to find it if they wanted to see if I have anything on my system that shouldn’t be there.

I look at my appointment book. There’s a young couple booked in to take a look at a property in their price range an hour from now. It’s a great opportunity to get out and try to clear my head and if I leave now, I’ll have time to grab a latte to go from the cafe a couple of blocks from the property I need to be at.

I shut down the computer, grab my briefcase, and head towards the back entrance to make for the car park at the rear of the building. I manage to avoid human contact until I exit the rear door of the building and see Emily out back smoking a cigarette. My heart rate climbs and I breathe in long and hard, then let it out at the same pace. While she’s still out here smoking, I have my chance to confront her.

“Terry, are you feeling better?” she asks.

I nod and head for my car. Feeling her eyes follow me, I turn back to her and stop in my tracks. I then start heading her way. “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask from a few feet from her.

She takes a couple of graceful steps my way and stops as I do, with just a foot between us. Taking a long drag on the menthol cigarette in her mouth, she stares at me while exhaling smoke in my face. “I work here.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I mean, why are you following me from 3DDreamChat to my real life?

She laughs. “3DDreamChat? Hey, whatever you’re smoking is obviously a lot more fun than this menthol. What are you talking about?”

I point at her shirt. “You were wearing the same shirt last night with the same skirt. You dressed like this on purpose to mess with my head. Even your ponytail.”

“You’re funny but obviously nuts. How would you know what I was wearing last night?”

“Like I said, 3DDreamChat. You had me at your mansion and you had a white shirt and black skirt on. We talked for ages and then... did... other things.”

“Oh, Terry, I’m sorry, but you must have me mixed up with someone else,” she looks at my ring finger, “and what’s a married man doing chatting to a woman who looks like me on the internet?”

I could throw up again right now. Have I made myself look really stupid now? I guess this is what happens when one doesn’t get enough sleep in a day. “Never mind. I’m so sorry, Emily. I must sound like a crazy man.”

She throws down her cigarette butt and grabs my hands with hers. “It’s okay, Terry. You’ve obviously had a rough night.” She releases one of her hands from mine and feels around her handbag, pulling out a small coin purse and opens it. “Take one of these. It will help you get through the day.” She puts a small white pill in my free hand.”

“What the hell is it?” I ask.

“You’re tired. This will make you not tired. Don’t worry, it doesn’t have any hallucinogens in it, but when it wears off, you will crash down pretty hard.”

“How long does it work for?”

“Eight to ten hours, give or take. Depends on the person, but for me, it’s normally ten hours.”

Her hand is warm and soft, and she lingers with a fine touch for a few seconds longer than she should have. “I have to go,” I tell her, and release myself from her hypnotising blue eyes. As I walk towards the car, I throw the pill down my throat and don’t look back at Emily until I’m in my car.

She looks back at me and waves as I drive away to meet my clients.

* * * * *  

When I’m tired,
I like to tell myself the coffee will fix it, but today it was a little white round pill that fixed it. I’m driving home and I haven’t felt better in days like I have in the last few hours. Emily had been right about the pill.