The next morning Aaron was really quiet. I don't know if it was his terrible hangover or the aftermath of our too-candid-for-comfort conversation the night before. Maybe it was a bit of each. I kept trying to defuse the awkwardness by being more light and playful than usual. Only later did it occur to me that he might have thought I was taunting him.

Our relationship had changed. Up until now, it was light and airy, we enjoyed each others company and felt completely at ease together.

All that was gone. Replaced by tension. ….Sexual tension? I didn't know, but I sure hoped not. I never thought of him that way. Then again, I never thought of anyone that way. Not even in my old life.

I began to question myself. Was I some kind of freak born with no libido whatsoever? What kind of life would that be? A lonely one, for sure. Could I fake it? It sure seemed easier to do so now than it would have been before. Maybe I could do it, but would I want to? That seemed so unfair to whoever I faked it with. I couldn't ...no, wouldn't con someone into thinking I had feelings for them just to keep from being alone.

It hit me that I had never even thought about this in my old life. I guess at that point I was so desperate to get away from my own company that I never thought of bringing someone else into it. While Aaron was busy avoiding me, I spent a lot of time in introspection. I had always felt I made more sense as a woman. Isn't part of that becoming engaged with the world and letting others in? Figuratively and literally? I had a lot to sort out, and decided I'd squandered too much time already.

I tried to think of Aaron that way. He wasn't a bad looking guy. He kept himself in exceptional shape for someone who spent much of his time indoors in front of a keyboard and monitor. He was trim and fit. If he resembled any sort of athlete, it would probably be someone who ran track.

I smiled at the thought that he could outrun any potential bully. And if he was cornered, he would probably surprise any predator. While not bulky like a bodybuilder, he was wiry and muscular like a wrestler. He looked unassuming, but I'd never bet against him. He was graceful and had a subtle confidence that hinted that he was not to be underestimated.

Many of the other girls I met at the meetups expressed a bit of envy that I'd found myself one of the good ones and asked if he was as hot as he looked. I kept up the pretense and always hinted at his prowess and attentiveness in bed. The grayhats looked up to him, but I was helping to build up his cred as a romantic superstar as well.

I was happy to do it. I enjoyed making this stuff up and telling stories that had the other girls salivating. I think I just liked captivating my audience and never gave any thought to what deep, suppressed part of my psyche came up with these electrically erotic tales.

Until now.

Maybe the best way to explore those feelings was through stories... written strictly for myself. I'd channel that part of me that came up with this intricately detailed erotica, then put on my readers hat and try to get lost in my own story.

Something told me that normal people could just disappear into their reverie in one step, but it seemed like I had to pull it from one compartment and consume it into the other. I began to think maybe I did have a libido, but had kept it buried for so long, I could no longer access it directly. Maybe this two step process could reopen that channel.

Writing sexually charged erotica was, to my surprise, something for which I showed a prolific facility. I wove thousands of words of graphic, steamy scenarios that made E.L. James seem like Mother Goose.

I thought for a moment about posting them anonymously to adult sites to see what kind of reception they got. Then I remembered my original point. To get in touch with my own passions and desires... not to get the rest of the web more hot and bothered than it already was. And if I was to post these, I'd have to be sure to go through and change all the names.

Since I was writing this strictly for my own consumption and exploration, all the characters bore a startling - if supercharged - resemblance to real people in my life. Down to the names.

A tip to those who don't already know better. When you're living with a hacker, don't write anything on a computer that you intend to keep private.

File under “Duh”.