What you read in private

``What is this?''

``What?''

``This.''

``A short story,'' I said, trying to sound nonchalant and hoping she would not be interested.

``Did you write it?''

``No, of course not,'' I said, trying to sound even more nonchalant. Is she reading it? Damn.

``What is it about?''

``Ahn, haven't read it yet. It's not very good.''

``How do you know, if you haven't read it yet?'' She smirked at me. Bad move. First, I told her it was something to read. Second, I got her curious. There was no way she was going to back down now. At least she didn't think I wrote it.

``Did you write this?''

Shit.

``No.''

``You did.''

``No. Look. It's a web page.'' Stupid answer. Maybe she won't notice.

``Oh. What is it about?''

``I told you, I haven't read it.''

``So why did you open it?''

``I chose it randomly out of the list.'' Well, she was less interested, but still reading it. ``Don't you want to go? We'll be late.''

``What site is this?''

I could have picked a dumb blonde girl who was too lazy to read menus at restaurants to be my girlfriend, but no, I had to pick a book worm.

``It's an erotic story!'' Yes, that's what it says. At least it was a plain one, no codes out of the ordinary. She wouldn't be very pleased with my preference for brother-sister stories.

``Sort of.''

``So you read smut? I thought guys only jacked off to pictures.''

``I don't read smut. I was not jacking off.''

``Sure. Is it hot?''

``I haven't read it, Paula.''

``Do you read these often?'' She was reading it. She wouldn't stop for anything now, until she had read to the end.

``No.''

``Often as in sex?''

``What do you mean?''

``If you had sex three times a day it still wouldn't be often, would it?''

I thought it was safer to not answer that question. She always ignores my answers, anyway.

``Actually, this is not that bad. Has a plot. Well written.''

She continued to read it, and I read it too. Then I noticed her breathing, and touched her shoulders, massaging them, watching her body relax. I reached for her breast, and she moaned. It was too late to pretend anything else now; she let me have my way, and soon I had her shirt above her breasts, her bra unsnapped, a hand inside her panties, and she was gasping, moaning, always reading, until she closed her eyes and moved her head back, letting a final, deep cry out.

When she could focus her eyes again, she stared at me.

``Bastard. You set me up.'' Then she added, ``How did you know I...'' But, at least this once, she was kissing me before she finished the question.