” My hands move to his bare arms. “Warner… I really like you.” “And I....” Warner eases away. “You need to know” (he wipes his eyes) �...�that I… I’m—” He hops to a bench then jumps to the table. With mock pomp he proclaims, “I am the Dread Fierce Warner!” A mischievous grin emerges. “You must do what I say!” “Whatever you command, I will obey.” “Let me watch you,” he begins, faltering, “suck your fingers.” I do so seductively then offer a finger up to him. Warner kneels on the table to take it. I. Now it was his turn to send his photo. He warned her that he was older, and not in very good shape. She didn’t seem to care. “Send it.” She pleaded. “I wanna see what you look like.” He selected the picture that he was going to send. It was recent, and he was pretty dressed up as the picture was taken at work. He closed his eyes, and with a shaky, sweaty hand, clicked the mouse. The next few seconds were unbearable. Every scenario of rejection went through his head. He looked at her username. More

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