Follow Me(35)

I wouldn’t, of course. It was just another intrusive thought. Utterly harmless.

And then disaster had struck in the form of a stray cat. It had sauntered into the alley and begun rubbing its thin, flea-ridden body against my leg. Repulsed, I had swatted at it, and it had retaliated by hissing and lunging for me. I jerked out of the way and my knee smacked against the glass of Audrey’s bedroom window.

I froze, the thump as loud as a foghorn. I readjusted my position and cautiously looked down through the window to see her stirring.

I should have run. I should have fled before she could see me, but I was caught in her thrall. I remained in place, half of me thrilled at the inevitable confrontation, half of me aware it was tantamount to suicide. Go! I screamed at myself. There would be no happy ending if Audrey found me outside her bedroom window. It was Audrey herself who snapped me out of my reverie. Her objection—Hey!—had broken through to me, smacked my sense back into me. I leapt to my feet and ran.

? ? ?

PATHETIC, I CHASTISED myself. Utterly pathetic. It’s no wonder Audrey isn’t yours. You don’t deserve to even tread the same ground as her.

I punched my fist into my thigh, hard enough to make myself wince. This couldn’t be who I was. In all other aspects of my life, I was more than competent: I had a decent job with benefits and a healthy 401(k); I maintained a carefully researched program of running and lifting weights; I laundered my sheets and towels with regularity. But where a woman—where Audrey—was concerned, I morphed into an embarrassing, irredeemable mess. I couldn’t do anything right, couldn’t even pull off sending flowers without turning it into an international incident.

Pathetic.

Oh, but she had loved those flowers. Seeing her smell them, lightly touching the blooms with a pleased smile, had been worth it. I was glad I had insisted upon the completely orange bouquet. The florist had urged me against it, had suggested I add in some different colors “for interest,” but I had held firm. I wanted Audrey to know I knew her favorite color. I wanted her to know that I understood her.

And then I had gone and screwed it all up.

Stupid, pathetic idiot, I thought, punching myself again, harder. No wonder you’re alone.

As my thigh throbbed, I realized that wasn’t true. I wasn’t alone. I had the Overexposed forums. The men there had never let me down; they’d been there for me as I agonized over Sabrina, Aly, and the other women I’d used as substitutes for Audrey. They would help me.

I grabbed my laptop and logged into the forums, but then hesitated, unsure where to post. Like dozens of other top-tier bloggers and social media influencers, Audrey had her own thread. I’d visited it on occasion and always regretted it. None of the men who posted there truly understood Audrey or even wanted to. All they wanted to do was share screen-captured images with disgusting, filthy captions and upload pictures they’d created by pasting Audrey’s face onto the bodies of various adult actresses.

Her dedicated thread would be the absolute worst place to post, and so instead I clicked through to the Relationships subforum within the Off-Topic forum, the same place where I had written about Sabrina and Aly. There, I posted a lengthy confessional about where things stood and what I had done. Instantly, felt lighter. Help would come.

I read the comments as they began appearing. Some encouraged me; some gently ribbed me for being such a disastrous fool about the whole thing. Okay, I thought, nodding. I deserved that. But as the comments continued to pile up without a single actionable suggestion, I began to get frustrated. Where was the help I needed? The help I was counting on?

I was about to slam the computer shut when I received a direct message from a user calling himself pm-me-nudes:

Hey bro. Saw your post, thought you might find this interesting. https://www.objectofaffection.com/vip-forums/2017041825 You have to be VIP to see it. If you’re not already registered as a VIP, click here https://www.objectofaffection.com/vip-forums/register and use my invite code: pm-me-nudes-inviteARQ573. Good luck.

VIP section? I’d been reading this site for years and had never heard of a VIP section. I hovered my cursor over the registration link and then paused. Even though this place had seen me through some tough times, I was ashamed to frequent it. Becoming a VIP was doubling down on it, falling deeper into the rabbit hole.

But what if this was the one thing that could help me with Audrey? Shouldn’t I just get over my humiliation and do it? After all, didn’t I always say that I would do anything for her?

With a sharp nod of resolve, I clicked the link and entered the invite code. Almost immediately, a smaller window popped open, reading: Welcome! Congratulations on becoming one of the elite. I keyed in the URL from the direct message and found a post in the VIP Forums titled “Full Access.”

Fellow Exposers, there’s been a lot of discussion about RATs here. If you’re looking for that information, or if you’re just wondering what the fuck a RAT is (remote administration tool, for the uninitiated), you’re in the right place. Below is my guide for setting up a tool on a slave’s computer so you can watch them all the time. So easy a trained monkey could do it.

I reread that paragraph, my skin slowly alighting in flames. You can watch them all the time. In my mind’s eye, I saw Audrey in her apartment, slowly shedding her clothing in an unintentional, unself-conscious striptease. Twisting that long, fire-laced hair up to expose her thin, pale neck. The temptation was almost too much. My palms sweat; saliva filled my mouth.