MY CYBER VALENTINE
FROM CHAPTER ONE
She poured two cups of coffee. Black for Gifford -- that much she knew. She’d
fallen into the habit of drinking hers black, too, just because he did, and
because he’d made comments about cream and sugar and diets and cholesterol.
Looking at the second cup of richly dark brown coffee, she firmed her mouth.
This was her house, and she certainly had no worries about her weight, so she
was damn well going to have some cream and sugar. And a good-sized glop of chocolate
syrup.
She sat down next to him and handed him his coffee while he draped an arm over
her shoulders.
“What is that, mocha?” Gifford said, making a face at her odd-colored
coffee.
“Yes,” said Chandler. “It’s good. Would you like me
to doctor yours?”
“No, thanks.”
It’s not good for you. He didn’t say the words, but Chandler heard
them in his tone. One point for her, she thought -- she could read his mind.
Gifford sipped his coffee as if to fortify himself, then set it down on the
end table next to the lamp. As he leaned sideways toward her, Chandler took
her own gulp of courage.
The one time in your life you had to go and make decaf, she thought,
and then Gifford kissed her.
He slipped his hand under her jawline, cupping her face and turning it a little
to deepen the kiss. Chandler responded as best she could, but it really wasn’t
doing anything for her except getting her lips wet. When his tongue touched
her, requesting access, she drew back with a jerk.
“What?” Gifford said, looking insulted.
“Sophocles,” Chandler ad-libbed. “I heard Sophocles. He probably
wants out of his cage. I’ll go check.”
In her bedroom, Chandler sat down on the floor next to the ferret’s cage.
Sophocles, ever uncooperative, was sound asleep. Glancing back toward Gifford,
who couldn’t even see her from where he sat on the couch, Chandler shook
the cage. Nothing.
“Okay, okay, baby, I’ll let you out.” She unlocked the cage
and poked the ferret. Still nothing. “I know, you’ve been in here
all day and you really want to come out and play.”
Yeah, sure he did. Chandler picked him up, hoping he’d wake up and show
some interest in the world. But he only hung over her hands, limp as a wet dishrag,
so sound asleep she doubted a nuclear meltdown would wake him. Chandler shook
him.
“Wake up, Sophocles, you little idiot,” she hissed. He made a deep,
long-suffering sigh and opened his little black eyes. Chandler set him down
on the floor. “Go play.”
Sophocles yawned and stretched, then crawled into Chandler’s lap and went
back to sleep.
“Oh, great.” She picked him up by the scruff of his neck, like the
vet did when he gave the ferret shots. That caught Sophocles’s attention.
He opened his eyes and blinked at her. “Go freaking play.”
He looked at her as if to say, “Yeah, whatever,” and started to
squirm. Chandler put him down. Finally getting into the swing of things, he
meandered into the living room. Gifford grimaced.
“Is it going to bite me?”
“Not unless you take your shoes off and wiggle your toes.”
“You should get a cat.”
“I don’t like cats. I like Sophocles.”
Finally awake, Sophocles chittered and jumped at the sound of his name, then
disappeared under the couch.
Well, that distraction had been milked for all it was worth. Chandler sat back
down on the couch, took another drink of her decaffeinated fortification, and
turned her attention back to Gifford.
He decided to make another attempt at kissing her. She responded as best she
could, hoping he would do something -- anything, please! -- to spark her interest.
His mouth teased hers, his hands sliding down her arms, up her back. She tried
leaning into him a little more, shifting with his caresses. Still nothing.
Then it got worse than nothing. She started falling asleep.
Gifford put his hands against her waist, and suddenly time warped and they were
lying down, leaving Chandler with no memory of how they’d gotten there.
This couldn’t go on much longer, she thought. Surely he’d notice
if he initiated foreplay and she started snoring.
Still, she didn’t know how to get herself out of this. She couldn’t
just stop --
The phone rang.
Thank God, Chandler thought, and reached for it, but Gifford stopped her. “Let
the machine get it.”
Well, hell. Chandler suffered through four rings, then the machine kicked in.
“Chandler, it’s your mom. Are you there?”
Chandler took advantage of her mother’s patented patient pause to jump
out of Gifford’s arms and grab the phone.
“I need to get this. It’s important -- Hey, Mom. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to tell you I got the card you sent.”
“Oh, my God!” said Chandler. “That’s horrible!”
“What in the world are you talking about?” her mother protested.
Chandler covered up the mouthpiece. “I’m sorry, Giff. It sounds
like a family emergency.”
Gifford stood. “I’ll just get going, then. Call me later if you
need anything.”
Chandler gave him a quick kiss and saw him out, telling her mother everything
was going to be all right. As soon as the door closed behind Gifford, she said,
“Thank God you called, Mom.”
“Why don’t you just break up with him if you hate him so much?”
“I don’t hate him, Mom. I just --” Okay, so how did she explain
this to her mother? “There’s no spark.”
“Well, dump him, then. If there’re no sparks now, he’ll never
be able to give you a decent orgasm.”
“Mother!” Sometimes she wished her mother wouldn’t talk to
her like she was a grown-up. “Don’t say things like that. You know
I’m a virgin.”
“Yes, your sister told me all about your declaration of re-virginization.
Now, I just wanted to say thank you for the card, and I wondered if you’ve
decided when you’re going to come visit.”
“Not yet, Mom.” Sophocles gave a muffled squeak, and determined
scratching sounds came from under the couch. “Look, Mom, I have to go.
Sophocles is tearing up the couch lining and I have to lure him out. I’ll
talk to you tomorrow.”
“All right, hon. Go attend to your ‘family emergency.’ Oh,
and don’t let the specter of Testosterone Johnny scare you out of another
relationship.”
“It’s not that, Mom. Gifford’s nothing like John.”
“That’s what you said about Brian, and I think you could have worked
that relationship out quite nicely.”
“He watched too much hockey.”
“He had a nice ass.”
“I’m hanging up now, Mother.”
“Goodbye, dear. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
Chandler lured Sophocles out from under the couch by shaking the bottle of liquid
ferret vitamins, which was one of Sophocles’s favorite treats, then sat
down with her day planner to see when she could squeeze in a trip to Illinois
to see her family, including her mother who wanted to talk about orgasms and
raise the specter of Testosterone Johnny. All of it was easier than thinking
about how pathetic her life really was.