More excuses

Jake's response came through, making Meg's heart skip a beat. But as she read his words, her excitement quickly turned to disappointment:

"You're killing me, baby. You have no idea how badly I want to take you up on that offer. The thought of you spread out on that motel bed, wet and ready for me... it's driving me crazy. But I've got this huge project deadline at work tomorrow. My boss would kill me if I'm not prepared. Maybe next week?"

Meg sighed heavily, slumping back in her chair. If Jake wouldn't accept what he had repeatedly called "baby-making sex" in their chats, she knew he would never actually meet her. The realization settled over her like a lead weight.

Her eyes drifted back to the tracking program on her screen. The location had finally finished loading, revealing an address.

Meg's heart raced as she stared at the address on her screen. The GPS indicated that the location was just two blocks away from her apartment, which sent chills down her spine. She might have been onto something. Using her advanced sleuthing skills, she quickly uncovered that the owner of the place was an elderly woman who lived out of state. With more digging, she discovered the woman was a widow with a son. Bingo, this might be "Jake"!

Fueled by determination, Meg dug deeper into the son's life. His name was Jeffrey McMillan, 22 years old. Meg's fingers flew across the keyboard as she delved deeper into his digital footprint. Her heart raced with each new revelation. Social media accounts under his name painted a stark contrast to the suave, successful "Jake" she'd been chatting with.

Jeffrey's Facebook profile showed a pudgy, acne-scarred face framed by greasy hair. His timeline was a wasteland of shared memes and bitter comments about women who'd rejected him. No sign of the chiseled jawline or bedroom eyes that had captivated Meg in Jake's photos.

LinkedIn turned up nothing - no job history, no education beyond high school. How could this be the same person who'd regaled her with tales of boardroom triumphs and world travels?

Instagram yielded a handful of poorly lit selfies in a cluttered bedroom. Piles of unwashed laundry and fast food wrappers were visible in the background. Nothing like the immaculate penthouse apartment Jake had shown off in video chats.

As Meg scrolled through Jeffrey's sparse online presence, her stomach churned with a mixture of disgust and dawning horror. Had she really fallen for such an elaborate deception? The charming, successful man she thought she knew was nothing more than a figment of someone else's imagination. Her pulse quickened as the truth hit her like a cold wave; Jake didn’t exist like she believed he did.

Meg's hands trembled as she typed out a message to "Jake":

"It's so disappointing we couldn't meet. I've pictured so many scenarios - us tangled up in silky sheets at that motel, stealing kisses in the elevator up to your penthouse, even sneaking away for a quickie in the supply closet at your office. But I guess it was all just lost in my imagination... right, Jeffrey McMillan?"

She hit send before she could second-guess herself, heart pounding as she waited for a response.

Minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly. Meg's mind raced, imagining Jeffrey's reaction. Would he panic? Try to maintain the charade? Block her?

Meg's eyes remained glued to the screen, her breath caught in her throat as she waited for a response. The message app showed that Jake - or rather, Jeffrey - had read her message. Three dots appeared, indicating he was typing a reply. Meg's heart raced, her palms growing clammy as she anticipated his reaction.

The dots pulsed rhythmically for what felt like an eternity. Meg's mind conjured up a vivid image of Jeffrey, hunched over a grimy keyboard in his cluttered bedroom, frantically trying to concoct a believable explanation. She could almost see the beads of sweat forming on his furrowed brow, his pudgy fingers hovering uncertainly over the keys.

Suddenly, the dots disappeared. No message came through. The chat window remained stubbornly silent, Jake's last message about his work deadline now seeming painfully hollow.

Minutes stretched into an hour as Meg stared at the unchanging screen. The silence was deafening, more damning than any denial or excuse could have been. It was the answer she needed - irrefutable proof that her suspicions were correct. The charming, successful Jake she had fallen for was nothing more than a ruse.

Meg sat back in her chair, a strange mix of emotions swirling within her. The initial shock and disgust began to fade, replaced by an odd sense of curiosity. She found herself wondering about the real Jeffrey - what had driven him to create this elaborate persona? What was his life really like?

As the hours ticked by at work, Meg couldn't shake thoughts of Jeffrey from her mind. By the time she left the office, she had made a decision. She would go to his house - not to confront or expose him, but to understand.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows as Meg approached the address she had uncovered. It was a modest duplex, paint peeling slightly at the edges. She hesitated for a moment before climbing the creaky steps to the front door.

Meg paused on the doorstep, smoothing her hands over her fitted blazer and pencil skirt. She had stopped at home to freshen up, trading her sensible flats for sleek stilettos that accentuated her toned calves. Her chestnut waves were artfully tousled, framing her heart-shaped face. She had reapplied her makeup, emphasizing her vibrant green eyes with smoky shadow and mascara. A swipe of glossy red lipstick completed the look.

She adjusted her blazer, which hugged her curves and hinted at her ample cleavage. The pencil skirt clung to her hips and rear, ending just above her knees to show a tantalizing glimpse of her shapely legs. Meg knew she cut an impressive figure - professional yet alluring.

As she raised her hand to knock, Meg noticed a package on the doorstep addressed to Jeffrey. A plan formed in her mind. She picked up the box, holding it in front of her chest.

Meg took a deep breath, steeling herself before ringing the doorbell and yelling "Delivery!". She heard shuffling from inside, then a muffled voice called out, "Just a sec!"

After a long pause, the door creaked open. Jeffrey stood there, blinking in the afternoon light. He was even less appealing in person than his photos suggested. His pasty skin was dotted with angry red acne, and greasy dark hair hung limply around his puffy face. A stained white t-shirt strained across his soft, doughy frame. The shorts he wore rode up uncomfortably, revealing pale, hairy legs.

"Package for Jeffrey McMillan," Meg chirped in a cheery voice, holding out the box.

Jeffrey's eyes widened as he took in the stunning woman on his doorstep. His gaze raked over her curves, lingering on her cleavage before snapping back to her face. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple.

"I... uh... yeah, that's me," he stammered, reaching for the package with trembling hands.

Meg pushed the package firmly against Jeffrey's chest, causing him to stumble backwards into the cluttered entryway. She stepped inside, her heels clicking authoritatively on the worn linoleum floor.

"It's not so fun being on the other end of trickery, is it Jeffrey?" Meg said coolly, her emerald eyes flashing.

Jeffrey's mouth gaped open, his eyes darting nervously between Meg and the open door behind her. The package slipped from his sweaty grasp, landing with a soft thud on the floor.

Meg surveyed the dingy living room, taking in the sagging couch piled high with unwashed laundry, the coffee table littered with empty energy drink cans and greasy fast food wrappers. A desk in the corner held a sleek gaming computer - likely the very machine used to weave the elaborate web of lies that had drawn her in.

The stale air was thick with the mingled scents of body odor and stale pizza. Meg wrinkled her nose delicately, fighting the urge to gag. This was a far cry from the immaculate penthouse "Jake" had shown off.

Meg placed a hand on her hip, cocking her head to the side as she regarded Jeffrey with a mixture of pity and disdain. "What's the matter, Jeffrey? Cat got your tongue?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jeffrey's eyes bulged, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "Are... are you M-Meg?" he finally managed to stammer out. No sooner had the words left his mouth than he began to ****, gagging on his own saliva. His face turned an alarming shade of red as he coughed and sputtered, bent double with the **** of his hacking.

Meg watched impassively as Jeffrey struggled to regain his composure. When his coughing fit finally subsided, she fixed him with a steely gaze. "Yes, I'm Megan," she stated matter-of-factly. "Unlike some people, I don't have the curious habit of using fake names." Her eyes raked over his disheveled form, taking in every detail of his unkempt appearance.

"Wanna talk about it?" Meg asked, though her tone made it clear this was not a request.

Jeffrey nodded meekly, gesturing towards the cluttered living room. "M-maybe we should sit down," he mumbled, his eyes darting nervously.

Meg strode confidently past him, her heels clicking on the worn floorboards. As she passed by the computer desk, a flicker of movement on the screen caught her eye. She paused, leaning in for a closer look. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized herself on the monitor.

It was one of the intimate videos she had sent to "Jake" - a sultry clip of her slowly undressing, revealing her toned body inch by tantalizing inch. The video was paused, frozen on a frame that showcased her ample cleavage and flat stomach.

A wave of realization washed over Meg. The video's progress bar showed it was nearly finished. Jeffrey must have been in the middle of watching it - and likely pleasuring himself - when she had arrived.

She turned to face Jeffrey, who had gone deathly pale. His eyes were wide with panic, darting between Meg and the incriminating evidence on his screen. A damp patch was visible on the front of his shorts, confirming Meg's suspicious.

Meg's gaze swept across the cluttered living room, taking in every sordid detail. Stacks of pizza boxes teetered precariously, interspersed with crumpled fast food wrappers and empty soda cans. Dirty laundry spilled out of an overflowing hamper, leaving a trail across the stained carpet.

But it was the bookcase that drew Meg's attention, her eyes widening in a mixture of fascination and revulsion. Colorful spines of Japanese comics lined the shelves, their covers adorned with wide-eyed cartoon girls in various states of undress. Meg had never seen anything quite like it before.

More jarring still were the dozens of figurines crowding every available surface. These were no innocent collectibles. Exquisitely detailed statuettes depicted anime girls in shockingly lewd poses - bent over with skirts hiked up, sprawled on their backs with legs splayed wide, or on their knees with mouths open in expressions of ecstasy. Some were fully nude, their plastic bodies glistening as if oiled. Others wore the barest scraps of lingerie, more enticing than full nudity.

Meg let out a whisper, "I'm still not sure you're not an alien..."

Jeffrey, still hovering anxiously behind her, asked in a trembling voice, "What did you say?"

Meg turned to face him, a coy smile playing on her lips. "Nothing," she replied smoothly.

Jeffrey cleared his throat hesitantly. "Um, would you like to take off your blazer? It might be more comfortable."

Meg turned to face him, one eyebrow arched. She considered for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Alright," she agreed, her voice low.

As Jeffrey moved behind Meg, his hands shook visibly as he reached for her blazer. His fingers brushed against the silky fabric, fumbling slightly with the collar. As he began to ease the garment off her shoulders, his clammy palms made contact with the bare skin of her upper arms.

Meg inhaled sharply at the unexpected touch. Jeffrey's hands were slick with perspiration, leaving a damp trail as they slid down her arms.

The blazer slipped off easily, revealing Meg's toned shoulders and the elegant curve of her neck. As Jeffrey stepped back, clutching the garment, Meg turned to face him. Her emerald eyes locked onto his, taking in his flushed face and the beads of sweat dotting his forehead.

Meg gracefully lowered herself onto the worn couch, smoothing her pencil skirt as she sat. She patted the cushion beside her, motioning for Jeffrey to join her. He hesitated for a moment before sinking down, the ancient springs groaning under his weight.

"Tell me everything," Meg said softly, her emerald eyes fixed on Jeffrey's face. "No more lies."

Jeffrey took a shuddering breath, his shoulders slumping. "I'm 22," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I dropped out of college after one semester. This house... it belongs to my mom. She lives out of state now, but she sends me an allowance every month."

He paused, fidgeting with a loose thread on his stained t-shirt. Meg waited patiently, her gaze never wavering.

"I used AI to alter my photos and create the profile you saw. I thought it would be easier to... to just be someone else, you know?" His voice cracked slightly, and he looked down, shame washing over his features.

Meg listened intently, her curiosity piqued. “But why me? Why pretend to be someone you’re not with me?”

Jeffrey shrugged helplessly, his cheeks turning crimson. “I don’t know! You seemed so… perfect. I just wanted a chance at something real, even if it was all a lie. You made me feel like I mattered.”

A bitter laugh escaped Meg’s lips as she processed his words. “Real? The was nothing real about that.”

“I was scared!” he blurted out, desperation creeping into his voice. “I thought if I showed the real me, nobody would want anything to do with me. And then—” He stopped abruptly, swallowing hard.

Jeffrey took a deep breath, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But it was real, Meg. Everything I felt for you was real. The connection we had, the conversations that lasted until dawn, the way my heart raced every time I saw a message from you - all of that was genuine."

He leaned forward, his voice growing more passionate. "I may have lied about my name and my appearance, but I never lied about who I am inside. The fantasies shared with you, my fears and hopes, the stories from my childhood - those were all true. When I told you about losing my dad and how it affected me, that came straight from my heart."

Jeffrey's words tumbled out faster now, as if a dam had broken. "I told you about my love for classic literature, remember? How I could get lost for hours in Dickens or Austen? That wasn't made up.

Jeffrey's voice grew quiet, his eyes fixed on the floor. "The truth is, I lied because I'm just... so lonely. I've never even kissed a girl, let alone..." He trailed off, his face flushing crimson.

"You're a virgin," Meg stated softly, realization dawning.

Jeffrey nodded miserably. "I'm 22 and I've never even held hands with someone. Every time I try to talk to a woman in real life, I freeze up. My palms get sweaty, my heart races, and I can barely form a coherent sentence. Online, I could be smooth and confident. I could be the man I wished I was."

Meg's eyes widened as she processed Jeffrey's words. The room seemed to shrink around them, the air growing thick with unspoken tension. She leaned in closer, her perfume - a delicate blend of jasmine and vanilla - wafting over Jeffrey. Her emerald eyes searched his face intently, looking for any sign of deception.

"So you're telling me," Meg began slowly, her voice low and controlled, "that I'm the first woman you've ever tricked like this? The only one you've lured in with your elaborate online persona?"

Jeffrey nodded emphatically, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Yes, I swear it. You're the only one, Meg. I've never done anything like this before."

Meg's perfectly shaped eyebrows drew together, her forehead creasing in doubt. She tilted her head slightly, in disbelief.

He glanced up at Meg, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "When we started talking, it was like a dream come true. You were so beautiful, so intelligent and kind. Jeffrey's eyes roamed over Meg's form, taking in every curve and contour. His breath quickened as he spoke, words tumbling out in a nervous rush. "Meg, you're just... so incredibly sexy. I've never told anyone this before, but I've had so many fantasies about you. The way your hair falls in waves, how your eyes sparkle when you laugh, the elegant line of your neck..."

He leaned closer, face flushed. "You're perfect in every way. Your body is amazing - those long legs, your tiny waist, those full breasts..." Jeffrey's gaze lingered on Meg's cleavage. "But it's more than that. You're brilliant and funny and kind. Talking to you has been the highlight of my days."

Meg sat frozen, unsure how to respond as she looked at the disheveled man before her.

Jeffrey leaned forward, his eyes pleading. "Meg, please. I know I lied about my appearance, but everything else was real. The connection we had, the deep conversations, the shared interests - that was all me. The real me."

Jeffrey's hands were trembling as he continued. "I understand if you're angry, but please don't walk away. Give me a chance to show you the real me. I may not look like Jake, but I promise I can make you happy. I'll worship the ground you walk on, Meg. I'll treat you like the goddess you are."

His eyes roamed over her form, filled with a mix of desire and desperation. Meg’s heart raced at the intensity of his gaze, and she felt an unexpected surge of empathy for Jeffrey in that moment. Beneath all the lies and insecurities, there was a genuine yearning for connection – a yearning she recognized in herself.

"Jeffrey," she said softly, her voice steady but her heart wavering. "You need to understand that trust is built on honesty. You've spent so long hiding behind a mask, pretending to be someone you’re not. What makes you think I can just overlook the deception?"

He recoiled slightly, the hurt evident in his expression. "I know, I know!" he exclaimed, running a hand through his greasy hair in frustration. "But I was terrified! I didn’t have the courage to show you who I really am. It seemed easier to create this fantasy rather than face rejection in real life."

Meg crossed her arms, her brows furrowing as she contemplated his words.

Meg's mind drifted back to their intimate conversations, recalling the heated exchanges that had left her breathless and aching. Jeffrey - or rather, "Jake" - had painted vivid pictures with his words, describing in exquisite detail all the ways he longed to pleasure her.

She remembered how he'd promised to worship every inch of her body with his lips and tongue, to explore her curves with reverent hands until she was trembling with need. He'd vowed to take her hard against the wall, to bend her over his desk and spank her until she begged for mercy. The memory of his filthy promises sent a shiver down Meg's spine.

Her thighs clenched involuntarily as she recalled his "breeding" fantasy - how he'd described pinning her to the bed, filling her over and over until his seed took root in her womb. She crossed her legs tightly, trying to quell the heat building between her thighs. Her mind was still filled with echoes of the filthy promises "Jake" had whispered in their late-night chats. She could almost feel his phantom touch trailing fire across her skin, his imagined breath hot against her ear as he described all the deliciously depraved acts he longed to perform.

She shifted in her seat, the slick fabric of her pencil skirt sliding against her thighs. Her nipples tightened against the silky material of her blouse as she recalled how he'd vowed to tease them with lips and teeth until she was writhing beneath him. A dull ache pulsed in her core as she remembered his graphic descriptions of how he'd spread her open, devouring her with his skilled tongue until she was a quivering, soaking mess.

Meg gazed at Jeffrey, her heart softening as she took in his hunched shoulders and dejected expression. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, darting nervously around the room as if afraid to meet her gaze. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead, and his hands fidgeted restlessly in his lap.

She noticed the way his ill-fitting t-shirt strained across his soft middle, how his unkempt hair fell limply around his face. The acne scars on his cheeks stood out starkly against his pallid skin. Everything about him radiated insecurity and loneliness.

A wave of pity washed over Meg as she truly saw Jeffrey for who he was - not the suave, confident "Jake" she'd imagined, but a scared, inexperienced young man **** for connection. She thought about how frustrating and isolating his life must be, trapped in this cluttered house with only his fantasies for company.

Meg took a deep breath, carefully considering her words. When she spoke, her voice was gentle but firm. "Jeffrey, I understand how difficult this must be for you. Loneliness can drive us to do **** things. But building a relationship on lies will only lead to more pain in the end."

She paused, searching his face. "I appreciate your honesty now, even if it came too late. You're clearly hurting, and I don't want to cause you more pain. But I also can't…"

Meg stopped mid-sentence as Jeffrey suddenly lunged forward, grasping her hands in his own. His palms were clammy and slick with sweat, enveloping her delicate fingers in their **** grip. She could feel the tremors running through him, his whole body shaking as he gazed at her with pleading eyes.

"Please, Meg," he begged, his voice cracking. "Please don't leave me. You're the only good thing in my life. I need you."

His face was inches from hers now, close enough that she could see the individual pores on his oily skin, smell the stale Doritos on his breath. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill over onto his ruddy cheeks.

Meg's heart raced as conflicting emotions warred within her. Part of her wanted to yank her hands away and flee this sad, dingy house. But another part felt a deep well of pity for this lonely young man.

As Jeffrey's sweaty palms clasped her hands tighter, a sudden realization made Meg's stomach lurch. She vividly recalled the paused video on his computer screen, the frozen image of her own body in a state of undress. The damp spot on Jeffrey's shorts. With dawning horror, she realized his hands were likely still sticky with the evidence of his interrupted self-pleasure session.

Meg's skin crawled at the thought of Jeffrey's seed coating her fingers. She couldn't help but shudder at the memory of how he had been watching her, objectifying her in a way that felt both thrilling and deeply unsettling. The tension in the room thickened, waiting her answer.