A hired car takes me to the door of the hotel and the driver tells me I’m expected. Upon hearing my name, the desk clerk hands me a key card and an envelope. “Top floor, the door on the left.” He looks down for baggage, and seeing none begins to blush. I smile knowingly and make my way to the room.
My stomach was all a twitter and my head reeled in anticipation as I race through the deep shades of a cold November evening. I am late and I do not really know where I am driving to or who I will find when I arrive. That is the beauty and liability of the Internet. Chat rooms upon chat rooms full of sexual mysteries, dreams and lies. A place where fantasy reigns and reality need not apply.