Chapter 7 - Caught Between Worlds
The next day…
Once again, I’m deep in an intense conversation with Emmy. Our exchanges quickly grow more intimate, moving beyond small talk to fuel a growing tension between us. My heart races with every message she sends, the tension between us becoming almost unbearable.
- Emmy (message): “By the way, what do my photos do to you? I need to know… What do you really feel when you look at them?”
A warmth rises within me, each word from her stoking a fire that burns stronger and stronger. I take a deep breath, my fingers gliding over the screen as I type my response, raw and honest.
- Me (message): “When I look at your photos, Emmy, it’s like my whole body reacts. Your body drives me crazy… I want you, to feel you under my hands, to touch you…”
Her reply comes quickly, as if she’s toying with me, pushing further, testing my limits.
- Emmy (message): “Tell me exactly what you’d do if I were there. Give me every detail… I want to know what you feel, what you want to do.”
My breathing quickens, excitement building with each message we exchange. I hesitate, my finger hovering over the camera icon. The idea feels reckless, but the rush of adrenaline wins. In a moment of surrender, I snap the shot, my heart pounding in my chest.
- Me (message): “Look at what you’re doing to me… I can’t take it anymore, I need you to finish me.”
I send the photo, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. Every second that ticks by feels like an eternity as I wait for her reaction. When her reply finally arrives, it’s even hotter than I’d imagined.
- Emmy (message): “Well, what a body… if I were there, I’d start by taking it in my hand… Then I’d use my mouth to satisfy you…
Want me to help you go all the way?”
A wave of heat surges through me; every word she writes pushes me closer to the edge. I’m completely under her spell, unable to think about anything but what she’s describing.
- Me (message): “Yes…”
- Emmy (message): “Imagine my tongue tracing every inch of you, savoring it like a lollipop, like candy…”
- Me (message): “Damn, I’m going to come…”
- Emmy (message): “I’d take you deep in my mouth… and let you finish inside…”
I let myself get completely swept away by her words, each sentence pulling me closer to the point of no return. My body responds to her game, and finally, I let go, overcome by an intense wave of pleasure.
As my breathing slowly returns to normal after this moment of intense release, I decide to send her one last message to close out this night of shared desires and confidences.
- Me (message): “Thank you, Emmy… That was incredible. You made me feel something really intense.”
Her reply comes quickly.
- Emmy (message): “Of course. I mean, you didn’t just come here for small talk, right? 😉”
I smile slightly, but before I can respond, another message appears.
- Emmy (message): “No… you know what? No… you’re not just another subscriber. I really enjoyed imagining… taking you in my mouth…”
I pause, absorbing her words, feeling an even deeper connection forming between us. This isn’t just a virtual relationship or a simple transaction anymore.
- Me (message): “I’m glad to hear that…”
- Emmy (message): “Good night… Sweet dreams. 😘”
- Me (message): “Good night, Emmy.”
I finally set my phone down, still wrapped in the sensations of this night.
The next morning, I wake up with an odd sense of emptiness. The previous night, spent exchanging messages with Emmy, has left an indelible mark on my mind. As I get up to face the day, a sigh escapes me. Returning to reality after such intensity feels almost cruel.
I go through my morning routine mechanically, my mind still filled with images from last night. The hot shower doesn’t wash away my thoughts; if anything, it stirs them up. Memories of my exchanges with Emmy seep into every corner of my mind, turning even the simplest gestures into a series of empty habits.
At breakfast, I’m there physically, but my mind is somewhere else. My parents chat about this and that, but I barely hear them.
Emma, on the other hand, seems lost in her own thoughts, her phone in hand. I wonder briefly if she notices my absent expression, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she’s too wrapped up in her own concerns.
Once at university, I try to focus on my classes, but every word from the professors just floats over my head. My fingers, almost instinctively, slide across my phone screen, hoping for a new notification from ForFansOnly. But nothing. Not a single message from Emmy to pull me away from this dull reality.
During the break, I meet up with Jack and a few other friends. We talk about the latest hockey games and our upcoming plans, but I’m only half-listening. Their words come through like a distant hum, drowned out by my thoughts of Emmy.
- Jack: “Hey, Brice, you seem out of it, man. You okay?”
I blink, snapping out of my daydream.
- Me: “Yeah, sorry… just didn’t sleep well, I guess.”
Jack gives me a skeptical look but lets it go.
- Jack: “Alright, if you say so. By the way, did you hear about the party at Max’s place tonight?”
I nod, trying to look interested.
- Me: “Yeah, could be fun. We’ll see.”
The others keep chatting, joking about the girls they hope to meet there, and almost on impulse, I decide to commit to going out tonight. The idea of socializing, of grounding myself in something normal, suddenly feels necessary. Maybe reconnecting with reality will help shake off this obsession that’s wrapped around my mind. Part of me even wonders if, by some chance, Emmy might show up. After all, she’s a student nearby, and who knows? Maybe seeing her in person, with no mask or mystery, will free me from this hold she has on me.
The afternoon passes more quickly after that decision. Classes roll on, and I cling to the thought of tonight like a lifeline. Jack fills me in on the details for Max’s party, and I start convincing myself that it’s exactly what I need.
On my way back, I mentally prepare myself. I drag my feet toward home, gym bag slung over my shoulder, but this time with a purpose. I pass familiar faces, classmates chatting happily, but I don’t linger. All I want is to get changed, get ready, and try to find what I’ve been missing: a real connection with the world around me.
Back home, I stop by the kitchen where Emma is snacking on something. We exchange a few quick words, but I’m not in the mood for a long conversation. I simply tell her I’m going out tonight, and she gives me a surprised look.
- Emma: “You? Going out? It’s been a while.”
I just give her a smile and head up to my room to get ready. The solitude of my room feels heavy, but I push it aside. Tonight, I’m changing that, I tell myself as I throw on something more casual. I grab my phone, hesitate for a moment, then slip it into my pocket without checking for any new messages from Emmy. Tonight, I’m in control.
Max’s place is packed, the air thick with the smell of sweat, perfume, and cheap beer. Music pounds like a heartbeat, and bodies move together, half-dancing, half-swaying. Laughter cuts through the beat, sharp and sudden. I let it all wash over me, letting the rhythm pull me in. Jack introduces me to a few new faces, and I find myself smiling, even joking around. I have to admit—it feels good. The girls here are friendly, and a few seem interested. One of them, a blonde, strikes up a conversation with me. We laugh, chatting about anything and everything, but a part of me stays distant, as if something’s missing.
Every now and then, I scan the crowd, a small part of me hoping to spot Emmy. But with each face I pass, it becomes clear she’s not here. No one even remotely matches the image I have of her. It’s frustrating, almost disappointing.
- Chloe: “You seem distracted. Is everything okay?”
- Me: “Yeah, sorry…”
She smiles, but I can feel the connection is shallow. We keep talking, but the excitement I felt when I arrived is starting to fade.
As the night goes on, even though I enjoy being here—laughing with friends, chatting with these girls—there’s a shadow hanging over me. I’m physically present, but my mind keeps drifting back to Emmy. I can’t stop thinking about her, wondering what she’s doing right now, if she’s thinking of me, if she has any idea that I’m here, surrounded by other women. I almost feel guilty, like I’m betraying something meaningful.
In the end, I decide to head home. On the walk back, the cool night air hits me, pulling me back to reality. I congratulate myself for making the effort to go out, to try reconnecting with the real world. But at the same time, I’m troubled. I’m proud of being able to disconnect from Emmy, even if just for a few hours, yet part of me wonders if it’s a betrayal. After all, isn’t this thing with Emmy just a game, a transaction? So why does it make me feel so guilty?
Back home, I head straight to my room. As I pass Emma’s door, I notice a sliver of light under it. She’s still awake, despite the late hour. I pause for a moment, considering knocking, but I decide against it. My thoughts are too tangled, and I don’t have the energy for a conversation.
My room feels heavy, almost oppressive. I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling as images from the night flash through my mind, blending with thoughts of Emmy. My mind drifts between the reality I tried to reclaim tonight and the obsession that continues to haunt me.
I eventually pull out my phone, but this time, I don’t even check my messages. Part of me is afraid of what I might find—or of what I won’t find. I sigh, torn between the satisfaction of having tried to reconnect with a normal life and the reality of this obsession that won’t leave me in peace. The night drags on, and I finally drift off, unsettled, knowing that tomorrow, it will all begin again.
The past few weeks have flown by at an unexpected pace, filled with the same daily routines but colored by a new internal dynamic. Despite my efforts to regain some semblance of normality, my connection with Emmy remains a fragile but constant thread running through my days.
Every evening, our exchanges continue with the same intensity. The conversations have become deeper, more personal, and I find myself waiting for her messages with growing anticipation. Sometimes, a doubt creeps into my mind: is any of this real? Could Emmy be seeing me differently, beyond this paid virtual relationship? The photos she shares, always with her mask on, add a layer of mystery that both reassures me and fuels my curiosity. Knowing she keeps part of her identity hidden gives me a sense of security, but at the same time, I feel an increasing urge to know her better, to uncover the secrets she keeps behind that mask.
Over time, what initially felt like a simple virtual attraction has transformed into genuine appreciation. Emmy is no longer just a digital presence; she’s become an essential part of my daily life—a muse who both inspires and disturbs me. Her words, her gestures, even the absence of her full face, have started to take up significant space in my thoughts. I find myself eagerly awaiting her messages, analyzing every word she writes, searching for hints of what she might really feel about me.
At the same time, my relationship with my sister has also taken a positive turn. For a long time, our bond was tense, marked by remarks and mutual misunderstandings. But in these recent weeks, I’ve realized the importance of family trust and support. I still don’t know much about what Emma does with her days or the personal struggles she might face, but I’ve decided to give her my trust unconditionally. Instead of making comments or judging her actions, I’m trying to support her quietly, to be there when I see her going through tough moments. This new approach has brought an unexpected sense of peace between us, strengthening a bond that once felt fragile.
As the days pass, I feel a complex mix of pride and guilt. Pride in managing to rebuild a healthier relationship with Emma, but also a certain guilt when I think of Emmy. Even though our relationship is just a transaction, I can’t help but feel that I’ve been loyal to her in a way that goes beyond simple paid exchanges. This inner conflict troubles me, pushing me to reflect on what I’m truly searching for and on the blurred boundaries between the virtual and the real.