You go to her apartment

Vivienne smiles. "Would you like to see my apartment?"

You nod excitedly. You're still aroused from before, though there is no longer an embaressing tent in your pants.

The two of you walk to her apartment, talking some more. Vivienne flirts at every possible oppertunity. Her apartment is modest, but comfortable, and most of all, lived in. It doesn't look like some static apartment that they show in movies; it's messy, and dark. Stitches are missing from the couch. The desk is covered by one big, wide pile of paper--none of it is stacked.

"Do you want to just...jump right to it?" Vivienne asks, looking at you hungrily. Then she looks away, shaking her head. She laughs again, grabbing your arms and pulling you into her kiss. "Mmm," she goes. She pulls back. "So. Tell me this. Are we an item now? Are you my boyfriend?"

"Sure," you say.

"So when you get home you're going to change your MySpace status to 'in a relationship'?"

"Of course," you say with a smile. "And I take it you will do the same?"

"Fuck yeah."

You laugh. "Just don't change your display name to something like 'I love him!' and then put 'making out with my boi' in your interests and upload pictures of me and just plaster me all over your profile. Okay? Because I'm your boyfriend, not your trophy."

"Aww." She snaps her fingers and puts on a fake expression of misery. "But what's the point in having a boy-toy if I can't brag about it on my Myspaaaace?" Then she starts laughing again. "No, I'm kidding. I hate it when girls are like that. Relationships are about human connection."

"Yeah. Connection."

"And sex," she says.

"Mmmhmm."

"Lovelovelove. Yee gods, I'm horny. No wonder I sound like a guy right now." She laughs again. "Why don't you sit over there on the couch? I'll be right back. Don't even think about trying to escape." She grins and gives you a little wave with her fingers as she heads into her bedroom.

You sit there for a moment, already starting to get hard again in anticipation. You can barely believe this is happening. This incredibly sexy woman who contacted you on the internet has taken you into her apartment to make love with you. But then you have to wonder: there has to be a catch. This is going too well. You look around at the walls of her apartment. They are adorned with gothic paintings--most of them sensual, bloody, tormented, and dark-looking. One of them shows a warped, misshapen man screaming. He is naked and clearly lacks a penis.

Then you start to feel very afraid, and very very ****.