A Short Story about a Silly Girl

Author's Note: This isn't a true story.

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Once upon a time, there was a silly little girl. Her name was Angel, but she wasn't one. And some to think of it, she wasn't so little wither. But she was silly. Angel loved men you see, and this is a story about how that love made her very sad.

Angel liked to surf the web. She loved to go into chat rooms and talk to men. She would talk about anything but loved talking about Sex. She could spin a web with her fantasies that would make men groan in delight. Angel would go online almost every night and search the digital ether for a certain type of man. One that she could tease and torment to a raging erection. Once he was oozing precum, Angel would walk to talk to him. She'd then spend however long it took on the phone whispering naughty things to get the man to cum. That was always the goal, and Angel always got what she wanted. For whatever reason it made her feel special, made her feel like there was something she was good at.

But cyber hunting wasn't all Angel did online. She sometimes just surfed. One day Angel came across a website that was a treasure trove for erotic stories. Literotica.com. She was ecstatic and spent hours reading dozens of stories. One particular author stood out and she enjoyed his stories so much she sent him feedback praising his stories. To her surprise, he replied.

They began talking on IM and that soon evolved into nightly phone calls. Angel was very happy. The author told her many stories about his exciting and fun-filled life. Over the course of the next few months, Angel found herself thinking about him more and more often and thoroughly enjoying the thoughts. The author told her he loved her, and regales her with stories of the life they would share together.

Finally, the day came when he left his home to travel across the country to be with her. Or so she thought. She waited for him for days, becoming increasingly distraught. She contracted the police after several days to help her find him, but they could not. Finally, she e-mailed his roommate to let him know that her author was missing.

By the next day, he replied to tell her that to her horror, her author had been carjacked, beaten and left for dead. But that was all. So she waited on tender hooks, her only connection to her lost love his roommate. Finally the day she wanted, waited for. The roommate was flying to her, to take her to the side of her love. She went eagerly to the airport. There she sat. For hours. Waiting for a plane that never landed. Eventually she drove home. She waited a few days, then she called the phone number of the authors house, hoping to get his roommate. It was nearly 2 in the morning, and imagine her surprise when instead of the roommate, a voice that sounded exactly like the voice of her love answered.

What horror! He was in his own bed, but was he not supposed to be severely wounded in a bed across the country? Instantly there were tears. Hot and fierce they poured down her face. She whispered his name, her voice cracked. But no. The voice grumpily replied. His brother. But the voice is the same. The pain in her breast, the ripping of her heart. But no. His brother. She would, once again, give him the benefit of the doubt. The roommate died of a heart attack on his way to get her.

Some time passes, Angel hears nothing. She calls again, just once more. Her love answers the phone. Her hears breaks and sings at the same time. But he hangs up on her after only a few moments, and the phone number disconnected after another few days.

Angel never knew the truth. She never knew whether he actually loved her, and they were just victims of unfortunate fate. Or if he had just been playing her, jerking her around for his own reasons. But her heart was broken. Her tears flowed. Eventually she slept. But it was a long time before her heart stopped hurting.