Preston Hunter was a successful writer. In fact, he was twice successful. He wrote mainstream suspense and, while he wasn't automatically on the best-seller list, he had a loyal following and could expect to sell six figure quantities every time he released a new book. Granted it would take a while to sell the first 150,000 copies of a new book, but since he had released a new title every spring, he always had three or four books that were still selling at any point in time. The end effect was that he sold at least 150,000 books each year. And with an average royalty of just over a buck and a half, Press, as he was known to his friends, managed quite well.

But Press had an alter ego he thought of as a fellow writer. You see, Preston wrote adult erotica under a pseudonym. And his pseudonym had become a virtual person over the past few years. And Valentine Hart was also a very successful writer. In fact, he often made more money than the mainstream Preston Hunter. And he had a much more vocal following. On Val's website, HartofValentine.dot, the fans would read excerpts of his writing and post commentary. The responses were almost always glowing and effusive. On the sister site, PrestonHunter.dot, also owned by Preston's publishing company, the comments were mostly positive, but much less colorful and in much smaller numbers. But you'd never hear Press complain. Val had done great things for Press and his publishing company. The obvious was that Press made a lot more money because of the sales of erotica credited to Val. And other writers of erotica had found StoneGatePublishing.dot and offered their own works for publication. Of course, many were not up to the standard set by Valentine Hart, but those few who were good enough had been added to the site and they generated still more revenue. But the thing that Val had accomplished for Press that mattered most to him was his relationship with Greta, his research assistant and all around support person.

Greta had come to work for Preston more than six years ago. Almost immediately he had developed a "thing" for her. Greta was this incredibly hot, petite, young woman with a perfect shape and an incredible mane of curly red-blonde hair and blue eyes. It started out as good old lust, although Press had never acted on it. He had always been the perfect gentleman and employer where she was concerned. But over time his feelings had become something much more passionate. And then about a year ago they had spent a weekend together that had allowed them both to realize that they were perfect for each other. And Val's writing had been directly responsible for that weekend. Not only had Greta read Val's writings, she had become a member of his website and when she posted commentary on a story she had read there, Val had developed an online relationship with her. He had advised her about all manner of things and she had taken virtually every bit of it to heart. It was at Val's suggestion that she had offered to help Preston with some field research that had lead to their weekend at the lake. And it was that weekend that had started their current situation.

For the past year they had developed a completely different relationship.

They weren't "dating" and neither had used the "L" word, but they had spent many nights together and they had been more than just sexually intimate. Greta had become Preston's fantasy come true. She was just as kinky at heart as Val's writings, even though she was easily embarrassed by everything sexual. She would blush if someone even said the word "sex". And often, she would embarrass herself by saying something that wasn't meant to be sexual at all, but that could have a double meaning and realizing that, only after she spoke, would bring on a bright red face and a coy expression.

Their new relationship certainly included sexual activity, but they were not yet openly committed to each other. Because both had experienced failed relationships in the past, neither of them had enough courage to propose a more long-term situation and so they just continued to see each other almost every weekend. And they would get away to Preston's lake house when they had time for a few days of games. And individually they admitted to themselves that they were probably in love with the other but each was petrified that if the subject came up, they would certainly be rebuffed and the tentative and fragile relationship they enjoyed would come to an end. Since neither of them wanted to lose the other, they had been unable to progress any further.

Preston's best line of communication with Greta had been through Val, but whenever Val talked online with Greta and Preston came up, she was unwilling to be very specific. She would hedge in her replies and simply ignore some questions and comments. This also added to Preston's sense of insecurity. He saw her unwillingness as disinterest.

It was to this point that the story had come when something totally new and different was introduced into both their lives.

Preston lived for Fridays. And considering that since as a writer he was truly self-employed and could choose to work or not work on any day of the week, it seemed almost redundant for him to be so looking forward to the weekends. But over the past year, weekends had become a new area of interest. He spent most of them with Greta. They continued to experiment with all sorts of kinky games. He had not found her fence yet. He still didn't know at what point she would say, "I'm not going to do that." Had any guesses been made just over a year ago, Press wouldn't even have been in the ballpark about how far she would go. In truth, she was straining his imagination to its limits. But that was a good thing. Not only was it fun, but because of it, Val's writing had expanded to new areas and sales were growing. How could something that many people would have thought of as wrong, or worse that Bible thumper word "sinful," be so positively rewarding? Didn't the Pilgrims believe that man could only be successful as a result of God smiling upon him? Of course, it was fun, felt good, hurt no one and made money. So Preston looked forward to the weekends with the same vigor and anxiety as any student or factory worker might. It was the break from the reality of the work-a-day world that everyone looked forward too.

Greta had gone to the bank and post office so Preston was alone in the studio when he heard the elevator whir into life. The writing studio was the only occupied space above the ground floor in the seven-story building. It had to be that Greta had forgotten something. He knew she couldn't have done both errands in the less than ten minutes she had been gone. It usually took an hour or more. And the traffic was always busier on Fridays than any other day of the week.

When the elevator stopped on his floor and the door opened, he leaned to the right to get a slight line of sight. He only smiled as he saw the other woman in his life step out. Megan Douglas was his goddaughter. Megan's dad Harry and Preston had been college roommates and were still closer than many brothers. Press had been best man at the wedding that probably wouldn't have taken place had Susan not been pregnant. When Harry and Susan had split up after only two years of half-hearted attempt to act like a married couple, Press had become much more involved in his Goddaughter Megan's life. He was always there for her birthdays and never missed seeing her during the Christmas holidays and she spent a week or more every summer at the lake house with her "uncle" Preston. And she was his number one fan. She raved about his suspense novels and wrote online reviews for every one of them. She thought Preston was the great American writer and that he received far too little acclaim.

When she saw that he was watching her, she broke into a huge smile and ran to him as he stood to greet her. Just as he stepped to the side of his desk, she nearly jumped into his arms, throwing her arms around his neck and planting a kiss firmly on his mouth. Preston hugged her slender waist and lifted her off the floor slightly and swung her from side to side. After a minute or so of embrace, he sat her down on her feet and stepped back slightly to look her up and down more carefully.

"I can't believe it's only been a couple of months since I saw you last. You've become a young woman!"

"Well, if you'd become a dirty old man like I've suggested many times, you'd've noticed that a long time ago."

"Why didn't you call or email me and tell me you were coming? I'd have been better prepared."

"I just decided last night. And it was late. And I left early this mornin'. It's okay for me to be here though, right?"

"Of course! It's always alright for you to be here."

"I mean, you don't have some hottie comin' for the weekend do you?"

"Nope."

"Well, you should. Do you worlds of good to get laid you know."

"Like you'd know something about that."

"Sure I do. Took a class in school."

"So obviously you're out of school?"

Megan had actually graduated from high school a year earlier, but because of her age, her dad had wanted her to stay at home a little longer, so she had gone back to the same private school for another year of college prep.

"Yep. And guess where I'm goin' to college!"

"Harvard, Yale, Oxford?"

"Not hardly. I do not like to work hard. No, I'm goin' right here! I'll be at State!"

"That's great! I'll get to see more of you maybe?"

"You won't be able to get rid of me."

"That works for me. So what's Harry doin' that he would let you get away so early in the summer?"

"He's goin' to Germany to visit the Mercedes plant. You know he bought the Mercedes dealership that's right down the street from the Chrysler-Dodge he and Granddad already have? They're havin' some sort of trainin' thing and families aren't goin'. Besides, I went to Germany with him right after the merger. His dealership always sells more new Chrysler and Dodge cars and trucks than anybody else in the state so he gets all these incentive trips. And I didn't really like Germany. Talk about hostile people, and harsh language. They just don't like Americans. So I told him I was comin' here and I'd see him in a month or so."

"When's he goin'?"

"I took him to the airport this mornin'. That's why I left so early and didn't get here 'til now. He's gone for a week of trainin' and then he was gonna go visit some friend of you guys from college. I don't remember who he said it was. He wanted me to fly over and meet him after the trainin' and go with him, but I said no."

"Eric Brost. He lived with us off campus one year. He and your dad had both been in the Army so they had that in common. Eric's parents were German immigrants and he still had relatives over there. Besides, I think Eric is still in the army. I think the Army sent him to school."

"Yep, that's it. That's the name. And he's some general or somethin' like that and he's stationed in Germany. Anyway, Dad's gone. He comes back on Sunday two weeks from day after tomorrow."

"Well, I'm happy that you're here. In fact, let me finish something I'm in the middle of and when Greta gets back we'll go to lunch."

"Whose Greta? A hottie?"

"She's my ... assistant ... and my friend. I guess you could say that we're dating. Is that still the correct terminology? And yes, she is a hottie, I guess."

"Uncle Press' got a girlfriend!"

"I guess so. It's kinda strange. But that's another story for another time."

"Well it sounds good to me. And it's way past due. So can I use the PC out here to check my email?"

"Sure."

The young redhead turned to the outer workspace and took a seat at the desk where Greta was usually at work. Everything was on and Megan noticed that the PC was signed online already. When she rested her hand on the infrared wireless mouse, just that much motion woke up the screen and brought up an IM screen that was already covered in conversation. She was about to close it and open her account when a word caught her attention. She thought the word was "hogtie," but she wasn't sure. But when she quickly scanned the exchange between someone called Val214 and carrottop69, it was right there and in the context to be expected.

Val214: So what do you want to do this weekend? Have you decided?

carrottop69: Well I'm hoping we can have at least one night together.

Val214: Do you want to be "kept"?

carrottop69: Well, I have sort of gotten used to it.

Val214: So what position do you like the best?

carrottop69: I'm not really sure. But I guess I'd have to say I like being hogtied. I mean, it's not really too uncomfortable, but at the same time, it can be really restrictive. And struggling in that position can really lead to an exceptional orgasm.

Megan couldn't say that she was really shocked. She knew people into this sort of thing. And for sure, she had no right to criticize anyone for his or her kinky preferences. She personally would try anything and if it felt good she'd do it again. She hadn't ever been tied up though. But she thought about it and realized pretty quickly that she'd certainly be willing to try it, either on the giving or receiving end. But what bothered her was that this was apparently between the woman Press had told her about, Greta was her name, and some other guy she was obviously seeing for these kinky games. If Preston found out he'd be hurt. And it would set him back years. She couldn't remember the last time Press had a girl friend. She hated to see that happen. Of course neither of these screen names really identified anyone. She could be totally wrong. Or maybe it was just something she was working on for Press. No body in their right mind would leave something so incriminating on their screen and go out to lunch or where ever she was. So how could she find out? First she needed to find out if either of these screen names could be her. Val sounded like a woman's name but carrottop didn't sound like a man. Maybe he had red hair though. With her dark red hair she had been called everything from "red on the head like the dick on a dog" to "carrottop" in her lifetime. She walked over to the door into the studio and leaned against the doorframe.

"Hey uncle Press, what's this Greta look like?"

He immediately smiled and became very animated. It was obvious that he found her attractive and that he sincerely had the hots for her.

"She's really cute. Sorta elfin, you know? She's pretty small, just over five feet and close to a hundred pounds. She's got incredible hair, not as red as yours, but definitely reddish blonde and naturally curly, but soft curls and blue eyes."

"Sort of a carrot top?"

"Yeah. Sorta."

"Is she a freak?"

"What?"

"A freak. You know, wild and crazy like me. Most redheads are."

"No, she's just the opposite. She's really shy and easily embarrassed. One of the things I like best about her is that she frequently embarrasses herself by sayin' one of those things that come out all wrong and ends up meanin' somethin' totally different than they're s'posed too. She's funny that way."

"I was just curious. So when is she gonna be back? I'm gettin' hungry."

"I 'spect she'll be back in maybe fifteen minutes or so."

"Okay, I'll go back to my mail then."

Now loaded with a little more information, she figured that it was at least safe to guess that carrottop69 was probably Greta. And if that was the case, then Greta was either involved with some guy or some girl named Val. Maybe Valerie she thought. She tried to think of other names Val could be a nickname for. And then it occurred to her that Val could just be initials or anything. She was going to have to sneak it out of Greta. And if that didn't work, then she'd yank it out of her, or maybe even pound it out of her. She was not going to let this little slut play her favorite man in the world other than her dad. And then after she made her confess, she was going to punish her and then she was going to tell Press. Well maybe she might need to reconsider that. That would still hurt him. No, she'd have to take control of this slut and let her know what was going to happen. Maybe the slut wouldn't want Press to find out. Maybe a little blackmail was in order. She couldn't help thinking that blackmail could be fun for her too.

She focused on the PC again to further check out the IM conversation.

Val214: You get tied up like that often?

carrottop69: Like you wouldn't know.

Val214: You like being on top or bottom?

carrottop69: I think I'd like to try being on top while I'm tied that way. We've never done that. Can't be on the bottom you know. It would break me.

Val214: You're tougher than you let on. What other "equipment" you want?

carrottop69: I like being blindfolded. In fact that's what I like the best of all of it.

Val214: And gagged?

carrottop69: It's okay. I don't really mind. Mostly it depends on the gag.

Val214: You have a favorite gag?

carrottop69: You sure do know how to embarrass me.

Val214: So that must mean yes.

carrottop69: yes.

Val214: So what is it?

carrottop69: I don't want to say.

Val214: C'mon. We're old friends. You know you can tell me anything. Besides I'll punish you if you don't tell me.

Val214: So tell me. What gag?

carrottop69: The penis one.

Val214: Well that comes as a surprise. And all this time I thought you only loved women!

carrottop69: That just shows you how little you know about me!

Val214: Oh, I know you far better than you would believe.

carrottop69: I hope you do after more than a year. Jeez, it's late. I didn't know it was almost twelve. I gotta go to the bank and post office. I'll talk with you later.