This story is mainly fiction and any resemblance to people, places or events is purely coincidental.
******
My wife does not fly. She takes trains. I drove into the city to pick her up from the city terminus three weeks ago after she had visited the grandchildren. Only the train was running an hour late. Being familiar with the station, I popped down to the concourse for a beer in a familiar restaurant/bar. Nursing my beer at the bar, a retired old geyser sat next to me. He introduced himself as Mike. Uninvited, he told me about his retirement and the Magnus Opus he had written and self-published online on all the usual platforms. He suggested I might like to read the book and gave details. At ninety-nine cents I thought of the phrase 'one does not value that one does not pay for'. But who am I to pass judgement when I post for free on this site?
A week later at home I was wracking my empty brain for a story line for my own writing. I am in a dry patch. I think of the encounter with Mike and wonder about his story. I look on my Barnes and Noble Nook. I find the book. Not my favorite genre -- a Sci-Fi story. A bit of a page turner though. Some mild sex. With some heavy content. The good news is that it gave me an idea for a 750-word quicky. The bad: it turned out to be precisely three times longer. Triple the pleasure, you say. Or not. The sex scenes are quite cursory.
******
"Like to go into a private room?"
Hank typed. "Sure. Invit me." Enter. Just another fucking typo. Fat fingers. He grinned as he hit his forehead. This was a first. He usually had to make the first move in the chat room. For sure they connected about being cat lovers, but...she's assertive. Shows promise for a dull Monday evening.
After a few moments Eva's voice returned, "You there? Room seventeen."
"Yep. Got it. Going now."
Eva sounded tentative, "Hear me?"
"Hot to trot."
"That's better. No snoopers. What's you real name?"
"Hank. Yours?"
"Eva. Like my handle says 'Eva327'? Married?"
Wow, straight to the point, "No. Not for a decade. You?"
"Yes. Oil platform worker."
"Don't they go away for months on end?" Hank brightened even more.
"Three months away and one month at home. His middle month away is the worst. That's when I get on the chat rooms. Like now."
Hank's grinning as he thinks this get better and better. "You work?"
"Of course. I'm a librarian."
Hank deflates. An image of Mrs. Write the school librarian comes to mind. Two-hundred and twenty pounds of mean. He perks up as he pictures the porn trope of the librarian. "Want to go video?"
"No Hank. I don't do that," Eva answers in a sweet friendly voice.
He feels this opportunity may be slipping away. "How about a photo then?"
"Really. Let me think about that. Give me a minute to see if I have a shot I can send."
The audio goes silent for a full minute. Hank thinks she may have left.
"Here I am. Okay, I'll attach a photo."
The photo came through almost immediately. It showed a distant bikinied, full-length slim, shapely woman whose legs seemed to go on forever and clearly sporting a fine rack. After a pleasant rush at the sight of her, Hank had a nasty thought. "How do I know that's you?" It didn't look quite real.
"That's not very trusting Hank. I thought we were getting along fine. Okay you turn on your video first and let me see you. And I might do the same."
Hank was on it in an instant.
"You're a good-looking guy. Mmm. Okay. Just a moment."