Page 15 of Dare You to See Me
58 new followers, 176 likes, 13 message requests.
I flip through the comments, like and respond, and sort out the message requests. Spam, companies asking me to rep their product, and a couple of ladies that go on the blocked list. I’ve grown used to the lewd messages, I put myself out there for the world to see. So it’s basically part of the status. I’m just proud of myself for having the foresight to use a different name and always keep my identity a secret. Only a few close friends know who the man behind the mask is, but none of them know about my other proclivities.
I log in to my private server and the messaging app that allows for pictures, short videos, and voice memos to be sent. Not that the other platform doesn’t allow for it, but this allows me to be untraceable. One can only join this server by being invited by me and because the items shared are of a sensitive nature, everything is encrypted.
Upon logging in, I see a dozen notifications. Some just say hello, a few ask for a special treat, and the rest are photos from my members. I don’t ever take any of the women’s offers to meet up for sex, but I’m only a man, so I do admire.
The ladies come in all shapes and sizes, and I love them all. One in particular gets me plenty riled up, allowing me to fulfill a few requests.
I sit back in my chair, secure my black helmet that allows nothing to be seen, and unzip my pants. I hit record and the screen comes to life.
“Hey Baylin. How are you doing tonight? I hope this helps you sleep tonight.”
I pull my hard dick out, fisting the base and snap a photo. I quickly attach the audio and the picture to the message and send it off to her. I don’t advertise my account, and I don’t put the photos up for anyone to see. These are specific to each woman. Some just want to hear my voice, but only a handful want pictures. I’ve had requests for me to remove my helmet, but I’ll never do that. The moment I do is the moment my entire life unravels. I’d lose my job and I couldn’t bear the thought of it.
Once I send a few more pics, I hop back over to my social media account and decide to check out some of my new followers. It’s always something I like to do. They see my footprint on their page and it makes them feel special to see that I’m peeping.
I check out the profile from my new like, Sunny_grl, and my heart soars when my request is approved and in turn, she follows me back.
Soleil.
I start scrolling through photos and see one of who I know is Dahlia even though the face is covered with a sticker. I see some of her and a hot blonde chick, what looks to be her parents, and a man…her husband.
My jaw clenches and I grow the tiniest bit jealous when I see them smiling together. I swallow remembering that Dahlia mentioned he passed and I wonder what the story is. There are photos of the three of them, plenty of just Soleil and him, one on their wedding day that makes me want to throw up, and then suddenly they all just stop. For the last several months it’s been nothing but she and Dahlia. And not very many. A few of them moving into their new house and one from last week when I saw them at the ice cream shop.
My eyes land on one that is Soleil standing on the beach where the sand meets the sea. Her black hair is blowing back from her face and only her face is pointed towards the camera. The smile on her face is small but warm, and the sun is reflected in her eyes. The caption reads…
The ocean ebbs and flows and so does life. Ready for mine to be smooth sailing.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I hit the like button on the post. I consider unliking it, but chances are she got the notification. At least now she’ll know that I’m watching.
I just hope she never realizes the extent to which I will follow.
EIGHT
SOLEIL
D_KING liked your post
I stare at the notification,getting a little giddy as each second passes. It seems a bit silly, but it feels like he’s flirting. He could’ve liked any picture, but he chose the one of just me. I’m sure the guy is only doing it to get more followers. Then again, he does have 187k followers, so why choose my page to look at?
I shut out of the app and finish folding laundry. It’s late and Dahlia has long since fallen asleep, but my brain has not been able to shut down since receiving that email from myex-step-cousin, Meredith. I received quite a few shortly after Gene died, but when we moved and the emails slowed, I figured she was done groveling and asking for forgiveness. When I opened my inbox to see a new email from her, I wanted so badly to just send it straight to the trash and ignore her. But there was a nagging feeling that told me I needed to open it. Boy do I wish I wouldn’t have listened to my gut.
Hi Sunny,
I know you said you never want to hear from me again, and I understand. But Ireally want to mend things with our family. Mom and Dad are so broken, and George won’t even talk to her. If you could just call me and–
I closed the email, not bothering to read the rest of it. I know how it goes. Every few weeks, Meredith emails me to beg for forgiveness and help her get our family back together. Her last email to me said“Family is so important. We need to be there for one another. To help with Dahlia and guide her through her new life.”
Family is important? Is she kidding with that bullshit? If family was so important, why did she go after her cousin’s husband when she could have had anyone? I neither responded nor deleted the email from her. I just closed out and let it be. It was too much for my mind to process and I just couldn’t deal with it. Not now and maybe not ever.
I throw Dahlia’s clothes in the basket and sit down on the small bench in the small laundry room and pull out my phone. I go back to the social media app I told myself I would not open again, and click on D_King’s account.
Clicking on one video I smile, entertained by this man on a bike. I watch as he dances, moving his body while riding, doing dangerous stunts that should definitely not be performed at a high rate of speed, and lifting his shirt to show off his incredibly fit physique. Actually fit isn’t the proper word to describe him. He lifts his shirt to show off his washboard abs that are a beautiful olive tone and so defined they can’t be real, yet they are.
I get lost in watching one reel after another and before I know it, an hour has passed and I have liked more videos than is appropriate. I wonder what he looks like under the helmet? I can imagine the way his hard ridges feel under my fingertips. Are his fingers calloused from gripping the handle bars and if so, how would the rough edges feel against my smooth stomach? I shiver when I imagine the deep timber of his voice whispering in my ear.
I snap out of my haze and sigh, then grab the clothes basket along with some more batteries. My poor vibe now has to keep up with the fantasy of two men.
