Hyperpersonal Hypersexual

By Genevieve Bergeron

In a world of Internet porn, sexting, texting, and digital flirting—can real sex be too good?

Juliette Bresson won't wait around for 'the man of her dreams'. That's because the heroine of 'Hyperpersonal/Hypersexual', knows that fantasies hardly ever manifest the way we intend.

Instead, Juliette—an energetic university instructor and savvy political consultant—imagines her men exactly how she wants them, and she forgoes real sex altogether. But eventually starved for tangible love and romantic excitement, Juliette replies to a string of anonymous yet provocative emails and instant messages she receives in response to an Internet forum post. She suddenly finds herself the recipient of a barrage of oversexed texts, salacious instant messages and requests for a face-to-face meeting. Finally, after a tantalising sexual encounter with her digital admirer, Juliette begins to think that real sex can be too good.

Now afraid of ruining her reputation, losing her job and her focus—or worse—Juliette must decide whether to give herself permission to love a lying man, a man who can fulfil her every sexual fantasy—or reject him altogether and cling to dreams that seem perfect but are really only mediocre, at best.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
• Release date: Aug 6, 2012
• ISBN: 9781781840627

Book preview

A Total-E-Bound Publication

www.total-e-bound.com

Hyperpersonal, Hypersexual

ISBN # 987-1-78184-062-7

©Copyright Genevieve Bergeron 2012

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright August 2012

Edited by Amy Parker

Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

This story contains 58 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 11 pages.

HYPERPERSONAL, HYPERSEXUAL

Genevieve Bergeron

In a world of Internet porn, sexting, texting, and digital flirting—can real sex be too good?

Juliette Bresson won’t wait around for ‘the man of her dreams’. That’s because the heroine of Hyperpersonal, Hypersexual knows that fantasies hardly ever manifest the way we intend.

Instead, Juliette—an energetic university instructor and savvy political consultant—imagines her men exactly how she wants them, and she forgoes real sex altogether. But eventually, starved for tangible love and romantic excitement, Juliette replies to a string of anonymous yet provocative emails and instant messages she receives in response to an Internet forum post. She suddenly finds herself the recipient of a barrage of oversexed texts, salacious instant messages and requests for a face-to-face meeting. Finally, after a tantalising sexual encounter with her digital admirer, Juliette begins to think that real sex can be too good.

Now afraid of ruining her reputation, losing her job and her focus—or worse—Juliette must decide whether to give herself permission to love a man who can fulfil her every sexual fantasy—or reject him altogether and cling to dreams that seem perfect but are really only mediocre, at best.

Dedication

To CDF, for the moves.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

The Washington Post: The Washington Post Company

Washingtonian: Washingtonian Magazine, Inc.

Trojan Magnum: Church & Dwight Co., Inc.

Playboy: Playboy Enterprises, Inc.

Microsoft Windows: Microsoft Corporation

PowerPoint: Microsoft Corporation

Apple: Apple Corporation

Kleenex: Kimberly-Clark Corporation

Chapter One

The hyperpersonal model of communication is an outgrowth of Daft and Lengel’s 1980s-inspired media richness theory, which applies to electronic modes of communication. The hyperpersonal model affords users various advantages, including the ability to hone and represent an ‘ideal’ persona based on strategic pre-planning. Similarly, ‘poor’ media, such as texting and instant messaging, indirectly encourage users to project their own ideal formations on to their conversational partners. In other words, we imagine our partners however we want, whatever way we want, in whatever position we want, and let our deepest, darkest desires run wild.

* * * *

commgirl82: 555-346-9865

DC_falcon01: bout time u handed that one over

Juliette dropped her chin into her upturned hand, sighed, and suppressed a half giggle, half scoff as she watched the new message scroll up on to her IM client. Had she really just given her phone number to a stranger? She was supposed to be grading papers while she was in her office, she thought, not chatting with secret admirers online.

A ‘rando’, her friend, Nicole from Chapel Hill, would say, even though Juliette had been chatting with him for almost three days now. He hardly counted as ‘rando’. Anyhow, ‘rando’ was a face-to-face thing, not an Internet thing. Internet, she told herself, would be something a little different. She cocked her head to one side, thinking, and ‘anonymous’ was the first word that came to mind. ‘Rando’ might have been more fun, but anonymous was the strict communications term—the boring communications term. Juliette shrugged. Her netiquette—her knowledge of ‘Internet etiquette’—was one thing she prided herself on.

But then again, maybe that was just what girls at her university liked—the ‘randos’, the anonymous ones. No commitment, complete anonymity, the freedom to do, say, pretend to do whatever they wanted. Now that was sophistication, Juliette thought, pleased with herself for rejecting old-fashioned traditionalism. She certainly wasn’t one of those North Carolina Southern Belles.

But Juliette had to be concerned about her freelance communication consultation, her reputation—and her students. She was the best in the business, a dynamic adjunct professor, and all before she’d turned twenty-eight. She couldn’t risk those things by pretending, by being raunchy online. Anonymity only went so far.

She certainly didn’t have a prosaic job—at least, that’s what she’d told her friends back in Colorado. She’d had a tougher time convincing the ones who lived just a few miles from her in DC. Everyone here was a teacher or a consultant of some kind, and more than one had had a fling with a senator or congressman. Sometimes twice. But Juliette herself couldn’t claim the honour. Rather than cavorting, she spent her nights writing about how to communicate rather than actually doing it. She was content to remain anonymous and safe. In a sense, concealing your identity was like going unchallenged, unquestioned. There were no comparisons online. Because, after all, who could ever know what was true and what was a lie?

Nicole gave her hell about it, said Juliette needed to take chances. But chatting, and with a guy who’d lifted her email address from an online forum? That, Juliette hadn’t even expected.

She straightened her back, pulling herself upright again. Her lips tugged to one side in a wry smile, and she poised her lithe, narrow fingers over the silver keys.

commgirl82: yeah, and what’re you gonna do with that? :p she replied, and, with a whisk, her fingers came to rest atop the keys.

The tongue wasn’t sexual, just innocent teasing, she told herself, and her fingers twitched.

Hyperpersonal. It didn’t mean Falcon wouldn’t take it sexually. That part was all up to him. She bit her lip. She caressed the gleaming silver squares lightly as she anticipated his reply, tapped the L key once or twice, and then absentmindedly hit ‘backspace’ to erase the mess of letters that had formed a meaningless string on her screen.

DC_falcon01: you’ll see :p

What a tease, Juliette breathed, and she entered :p in the blank field. She imagined he was laughing at her now.

The black, oblong screen of Juliette’s smartphone flickered to life on the desk beside her netbook, and she saw her message application maximise. She got texts all the time—it was nothing special. But she wondered whether Falcon had sent her something already. Or perhaps he was going to call her, wanted to hear her voice. Or, worse, he was just going to crank call at three in the morning, crack a few raunchy jokes and let Juliette cry herself back to sleep.

Juliette saw no words, just an image—a blurred thumbnail to the top right of the screen. She cradled the phone in her hand,  then ran