Dot Com Convention
	==================

"Shit!" said Simon, as a thin trail of semen slithered 
through the red hair of his freckled thighs. "We've just 
been making love. Fucking, even. Is this really the time to 
be speculating about Virginia Falls?"

"That is why we're here!" said Lisa. "To see Virginia Falls. 
If it wasn't for the International Dot Com Convention we'd 
never have travelled from Basingstoke to Ghent.  That's 
why we're staying in a Belgian Holiday Inn."

"I still don't really understand what you see in her," Simon 
continued. He placed a hand on Lisa's angular shoulder and 
nuzzled her ear, or what ear he could within the jangle of 
piercings, studs and rings. "She doesn't know you from 
Adam. Or Eve, for that matter. You might have sent her 
fuck knows how many e-mails, but she's not exactly been 
an enthusiastic correspondent. She's just a web mistress for 
one of those bloody American sex web-sites. Okay, she's 
one of the most famous and what she writes chimes with 
you, but all this speculation about her is pointless."

"You really do not understand," Lisa spelled out forcefully. 
"How can you? You're not a woman. Ting Dot Com is the 
only site that really speaks for women like me. Virginia 
knows what she's talking about. It's as if she actually 
knows me. What she says is so very real."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" said an exasperated Simon. "I came 
here for the beer, the chocolates, the sights, and, of course, 
to be with you." He kissed her affectionately on the cheek, 
his nose-ring touching the stud through her upper lip with a 
small ching of contact. 

"I know you're trying to be romantic or some shit like that," 
said Lisa, who detached herself from Simon and made no 
attempt to hide her pale breasts or her crotch where his 
semen left a thin sticky trail across the thick brown pubic 
hair. "That shows how fucking little you understand about 
me or about women in general. That's what so good about 
Virginia. She knows about women. She knows our needs 
and aspirations. She understands women's sexuality and 
desires."

"So, I don't," said a disgruntled Simon. "I mean, fuck it, 
we've been together years. Fucking ages. And you've never 
had sex with anyone else in that time. In fact, I'm the only 
guy you've ever had sex with. How can this fucking 
American webmistress possibly know more than me?"

"You just don't understand," said Lisa, grabbing Simon's 
limp penis and stroking it desultorily. "The things she has 
to say in her essays. Her poems. Her stories. The things she 
has to say liberates women. She frees the mind and body..."

"Shit, Lisa!" said Simon, running a finger through Lisa's 
thick bush of pubic hair and feeling the dampness of his 
cooling jism. "I've seen this Ting Dot Com site. And why 
it's called Ting, I really don't know..."

"There Is Nothing Greater," elaborated Lisa.

"And what the fuck does that mean?" continued Simon, 
positioning his lank frame against Lisa's small skinny 
body. He pushed aside a strand of her black-dyed hair from 
her bosom. His own tangled mess of long red hair fell over 
his face. "It's just a website run by a woman that sells a lot 
of politically correct sex videos and presents public service 
announcements scattered amongst ads for dildos, 
suppositories and body jewellery. And every week you get 
a chance to see Jpegs of a woman who must be at least 
forty, over fifteen years older than both of us, with big tits 
and even bigger thighs, who romps around in the nude, 
paints herself and sticks stuff up her twat. How can that be 
fucking liberating or whatever?"

"You just don't understand women," insisted Lisa, arching 
her head and flicking back her long black hair so that 
Simon's tongue could more easily twiddle with the ring 
that pierced her nipple.

Simon really did not understand, Lisa mused the following 
day as she wandered from stall to stall in the huge sports 
centre where the website convention was hosted. Each stall 
was accompanied by one or two, sometimes three, 
enthusiastic young people trying to persuade the many 
people attending the convention that their website was 
worth subscribing to. Not all the sites were likely to be of 
the remotest interest to Lisa. In fact, hardly any of them 
were. 

It was amazing what there was on the internet. Sites for 
gardening tips. Sites to buy and sell antiques. Sites that 
specialised in genealogy. Sites that featured original 
fiction, original artwork and original music. There were 
dictionaries, encyclopaedias and repositories of all kinds. 
And if Lisa were more technically-minded, there was an 
enormous number of sites that addressed software and 
hardware concerns. But what interested Lisa most, what 
she primarily viewed of the vast resources of the internet 
that spread like a thin slither of shared culture over the 
entire globe, was Ting Dot Com and its webmistress, 
Virginia Falls.

Simon wasn't in the slightest bit interested in 
accompanying Lisa to the convention. He was more drawn 
to Belgian beer and hanging out with Barry-a mate of his 
who'd come down from Amsterdam where he lived on a 
houseboat with his cats, cannabis plants and fat girlfriend. 
So that left Lisa free to soak up the atmosphere without 
Simon telling her how boring it all was and how stupid she 
was to be fixated on a single website. However, as the 
novelty palled of being able to do exactly what she fucking 
well wanted without his fucking criticism and the smell of 
his fucking smelly roll-ups, Lisa rather began to miss his 
company. That wasn't right, of course. A woman shouldn't 
be tied to one man's cock. She should be free to follow her 
own needs and desires and celebrate her femininity. 

Perhaps that was why in the last year she'd become so 
obsessed with Virginia Falls and her website. Of course, 
the webmistress' name wasn't really Virginia Falls. That 
was the name of a suburb of Washington D.C. The name 
was probably chosen as some kind of ironic comment. Or 
maybe it was just because Olivia Spalding wasn't quite the 
name by which the webmistress wanted the world to know 
her. 

Ting Dot Com did somehow speak to Lisa. It was angry. 
Forthright. Uncompromising. Everything Lisa was sure she 
should be. And also-and she made fucking sure Simon 
knew this-Lisa had fallen in love with Virginia Falls. Lisa 
thought she was fucking hot. She wasn't the youngest or 
slenderest woman in the world, but there was something in 
those nude photographs of her. She was a woman who 
swore like a fucking trooper, fucked exactly whom she 
wanted, when she wanted, and wrote exactly what she 
fucking well liked. Well, there was something about her 
that made Virginia Falls the most perfect woman in the 
world. And although Lisa didn't think of herself as lesbian 
or even bisexual-and it was true that the only person she'd 
ever made love to was Simon-Virginia Falls was 
somehow that bit special.

There were other websites, of course, that occupied much 
the same niche as Ting. There was Fanny Fart, a British 
site, which was as much about demystifying femininity as 
it was about empowerment. There was Oyster, from 
Canada, which specialised in featuring the photographs of 
its readers' vaginas accompanied by cunt-related poetry. 
There was Sunny Squirts from California that had 
originally been for both men and women, but had become 
increasingly woman-centric. Nevertheless, it still featured 
nude pictures of rather too perfect women for the 
masturbatory pleasure of its male readers. Whereas what 
Lisa liked to see photographed were women like her-
perhaps adorned by piercings, tattoos and startling eye 
make-up, but otherwise totally natural. And, although Lisa 
was sure the photographs of Virginia Falls were there for 
their aesthetic rather than their sexual beauty, it was mostly 
because they had become a focus for her masturbatory 
fantasies that Ting had become Lisa's website of choice.

Lisa eventually located the stall for Ting Dot Com. And 
there in the flesh was Virginia Falls. But she wasn't sitting 
in a chair signing books, as Lisa imagined she would. In 
fact, the person sitting at the stall was someone Lisa didn't 
recognise but imagined it was one of Crab Girl or Mandy 
Minge, the two editors on the site. Virginia was standing 
several feet behind the stall and intent on conversation with 
a rather fat woman with short hair and a neatly tailored 
suit. At least, true to form, Virginia was dressed 
provocatively. Her voluptuous bosom was on full 
display-each nipple, but not all the areolae, was obscured 
by a cross of two shiny strips of black tape. Otherwise, all 
she wore were baggy shorts that strained against her full 
thighs and an array of metal bracelets and necklaces. 
Nevertheless, whatever Virginia Falls was wearing, or not 
wearing, there was no easy way that Lisa could see of 
speaking to her idol, short of an un-English display of 
rudeness. And, not only was Lisa not inclined to be rude, 
she was also, truth to tell, rather shy. Even, on occasions, 
introverted.

"How can I help you?" asked the girl behind the desk who 
was dressed far less provocatively than Virginia. Her hair 
was bundled up in a mass of combs and her yellow tee-
shirt had the words ting.com written in large black 
Courier characters. Underneath in smaller italic print was 
the tag-line: tastefully indecent nude girls. 

"Erm..." said Lisa, not at all sure what help this girl could 
offer her. What she had wanted to do was speak to 
Virginia. Tell her how much she enjoyed her site. How 
much she agreed with what she said and how her theme of 
female empowerment and sexual bravado chimed with her. 
What she had instead was a bored-looking American girl 
and just by her elbow a couple of other convention visitors 
who looked like they had more specific questions to ask.

At last, she drew in a deep breath. "I'm Lisa Triple X. I'm 
one of the regular contributors to the Ting Forum."

"Oh really," said the decidedly unimpressed editor.

"Erm, do you have any... Erm..." Lisa noticed a pile of 
merchandise behind the girl, "...Erm...One of those 
videos?"

"Which one?" 

"Tits In Nasty Greasepaint."

"There isn't a copy of that here," said the girl with some 
irritation, looking through the stack of videos. "I'll see if 
we've got one in the back. Unless you want Things 
Indecent Nudes Gobble?"

"No," said Lisa firmly. She was not especially focused on 
either fellatio or cunnilingus. 

"Oh, all right then. Hang on."

While the girl was crouched over a cardboard boxes and 
plastic cases in the canvas corner of the stall, Lisa had the 
opportunity to overhear Virginia Falls chatting to this other 
woman-a conversation that appeared to be winding up. 
Lisa was surprised at how nasal and almost whiny 
Virginia's voice was.

"You'll be there tonight, won't you?" she said to the fat 
woman.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," her friend answered in an 
Australian accent.

"50 Oude Langestraat, I think it is," said Virginia. "Fuck 
knows how it's supposed to be pronounced. Dutch is a 
fucking weird language. Everyone's invited. It'll be a 
blast!"

"It's only what I'd expect. Your party after that Milan 
convention left my twat sore for weeks."

"There'll be plenty more of the same! And best of luck with 
Bush Whackers. I like a site with balls. Well, not balls so 
much...but you know what I mean."

"Here we are!" announced the girl Lisa had been speaking 
to. "Tits In Nasty Greasepaint. There wasn't anything else 
you wanted?"

Lisa pointed at a couple of glossy American women-centric 
comic books and a book that featured photographs of a 
nude Virginia Falls in outdoor settings: The Immodest 
Nude Gallery. 

"Well, enjoy," said the girl, who took Lisa's wad of euros 
and handed back the change.

After this encounter, there really wasn't that much more for 
Lisa to do at the convention. She soon weighed herself 
down with plastic bags, flyers and free CDs loaded with 
software she doubted she'd ever use. The stalls bored her 
and her feet were sore. She had two plastic glasses of the 
rather strong beer the Belgians drunk and regretted that 
she'd given herself so much free time.

Eventually she had enough and made her way to the bar 
where she was due to meet Simon, Barry and Els, Barry's 
Dutch girlfriend. She rather liked the ambience of Ghent 
and regretted she hadn't allowed for more time to look at 
the castle, the cathedral and the shops. The city was much 
more attractive than she'd imagined when she booked the 
holiday.

"So, you've been invited to a party with this Virginia 
Falls?" said Simon who, despite his affected nonchalance, 
was clearly quite impressed. "You must have made quite 
an impression on her."

"We immediately hit it off," Lisa lied. "I told you she 
understood women."

"Well, she certainly seems to have understood you."

"What sort of party is it?" asked Els, who was sipping on a 
glass of red wine.

"I'm told it'll do in my pussy," said Lisa boldly. "For 
weeks!"

"Sorry?" asked Els, who wasn't sure she heard right.

"You're not bi, are you Lisa?" wondered Barry 
understandably.

"It's not a fucking orgy, is it?" spluttered a rather startled 
Simon.

Lisa was rather pleased with the reaction she'd got from her 
friends, but she was rather more worried about whether 
she'd be able to carry through her intention to go to 
Virginia Falls' party. She'd gatecrashed parties before, but 
always with Simon and usually more company than just 
Simon. And on those occasions, a bottle of cheap 
supermarket plonk had been all that was needed to ensure 
they got through the door, especially when it was 
associated with the promise of blow. However, she was 
sure that this was a different endeavour altogether. 
Blagging her way in wasn't going to be such an easy task, 
especially without assistance. 

In any case, Lisa was rather enjoying her evening out with 
Simon, Barry and Els. Some choice skag was mellowing 
her out, not to mention the contrary effect of the rather 
strong Belgian beer. Fortunately, Simon and Barry were 
less enthusiastic than they usually were about skinning up 
in a country noticeably less relaxed than Holland about 
dope-heads puffing their spliffs, and a few lines of coke 
sharpened Lisa for a long night ahead. 

Soon they were in a cellar bar waiting for a local indie 
group to thunder through their repertoire while Lisa's 
friends nursed their beers and puffed on their rollies in the 
amicable surroundings of Ghent's alt rock scene. The time 
was coming for Lisa to make her promised getaway and 
she knew that there was no way she could opt out, 
especially as Simon's pleas that she should reconsider were 
becoming more urgent. Furthermore, Lisa's bravado was 
reinforced by the effects of the various beverages and the 
excitement of the thumping rock music.

"So you're sure about this?" asked Simon when Lisa stood 
up to leave. "You're fucking sure? I mean, it's not 
something you've ever done before."

"Don't be so fucking protective," said Lisa, looking at Els 
for support. 

Barry's girlfriend was nodding in mellowed-out bliss and 
unlikely to care what Lisa did, but she was together enough 
to at least respond in form.

"You fucking go for it," she said in her heavily accented 
English. "Don't let Simon put you off. If you want it, do it!"

"Okay. Okay," said a defeated Simon. "But we'll be here all 
night. So don't hesitate to come back if you want to."

"As if I fucking would," said Lisa, shaking her long black 
hair and picking up her things.

But once she was out in the distinctly cool night air, Lisa 
wasn't so sure that Simon's concerns for her were so 
misplaced after all. Her map of Ghent indicated that Oude 
Langestraat wasn't that far away, but in the dark of the 
night it was easy to take a wrong turning through the 
unfamiliar streets. But when she located the address she 
discovered she'd already passed it by in her increasingly 
frantic wanderings. It was, after all, a fairly ordinary-
looking building with an array of buttons for all the flats in 
the block. And which one of them was for Virginia Falls' 
party? Shit! She couldn't very well ring them all.

"You here for the Ting do?" asked a tall woman in an 
American accent. She was arm in arm with another 
woman, equally slim but almost half her height, and they 
were approaching the apartment block.

"Yeah," said Lisa as nonchalantly as she could manage. 
"Can't remember the flat number, though."

"Good thing we arrived then," said the woman with a 
smile. "By the way, I'm Sunny. And this is Tina. What's 
your name? You're English, aren't you?"

Thanks to this encounter, gatecrashing the party was 
nowhere near as hard as Lisa expected, though she found 
herself having to lie rather imaginatively about how well 
she knew Virginia and about her software support job with 
the county council the description of which 
metamorphosed into something vaguely to do with the web 
and a lot more glamorous. 

"Gee!" said Sunny, when they got out of the lift on the 
fourth floor. "I've not had to work for years. Daddy's 
money, you know. Hey, it sounds like the party's really got 
going!"

Lisa had no real idea what to expect from a Dot Com party. 
She'd imagined it just to be a rather more sophisticated 
version of the parties she and Simon went to. That is, 
plenty of blow, some more exotic drugs and a lot of 
drunken guests scattered about in a crowded noisy 
atmosphere. Certainly there was that, although the music 
was thumping Dutch Trance rather than indie rock, but the 
most startling aspect was the total lack of men. Every guest 
was a woman, most of them several years older than Lisa, 
and dressed rather more provocatively than Lisa had ever 
dressed. There was more female flesh on display than in a 
woman-only sauna, and the few clothes that were worn 
were of the type Lisa had only ever seen in the windows of 
lingerie stores and often wondered who bought them. 
Certainly not her. But now she needn't wonder any more.

"Hey!" said Virginia Falls, Lisa's goddess, who placed a 
warm kiss on first one cheek, then the other and the first 
one again. "Glad you could make it!" She was dressed in 
only her two crossed black nipple-plasters and a massive 
black dildo that was strapped to her waist. "And you too!" 
she said to Sunny, kissing her with just as much warmth, as 
she then did to Tina. "There's some gear in the kitchen and 
loads of Belgian beer. Brewed by Trappist monks, I'm told. 
These Sprouts are so funny!"

Lisa treasured the impress of Virginia's dry kisses on her 
cheeks while she gradually acclimatised herself to her 
surroundings. It was a warm evening, but it was even 
warmer here, perhaps because of the close proximity of so 
much bare female flesh. She soon felt that she should 
divest herself of some clothes. But how much? And which 
ones? These weren't usually questions she asked herself at 
a party. Should she go for total nudity like at least two or 
three women? Or just to her underwear, as Sunny and Tina 
so quickly reduced themselves to? What was obvious was 
that she looked pretty out of place in her ethnic skirt, black 
Muse tee-shirt and Doctor Martins.

Her only friends in the party were Tina and Sunny, if they 
could be called friends at all. But by the time Lisa emerged 
from the bedroom that served not only as a cloakroom but 
as the venue for open Sapphic love, she could see neither 
woman. And now here she was in a huge living room, 
quite able to accommodate the several dozen women 
guests, dressed only in her Primark knickers and bra-both 
black, of course-and not at all sure what she should do.

Normally at a party, Lisa and Simon would position 
themselves in the kitchen by the beers or in one of the 
bedrooms surrounded by the paraphernalia of the dedicated 
dope-head. She wouldn't expect to find herself on the edge 
of a room large enough to accommodate a DJ playing a 
selection of dance records, a space large enough for so 
many women to be dancing-some nearly as old as Lisa's 
Mum-and still have empty seats left over on the designer 
upholstery. There was certainly beer, all in bottles rather 
than cans, some wine and the familiar odour of marijuana. 

Lisa was actually rather shocked to see how many of the 
guests were indulging in open sex with each other. She was 
rather more prudish than she thought she'd be. But then, 
she'd only enjoyed sex with Simon privately. Not in the 
presence of her friends, however close they were. It was 
strange to see women making love to each other with no 
men around. In one sense, it was rather less threatening. 
Women might rub against each other, wrap their legs about 
each others' waists, or even push gaily coloured toys in one 
another's vaginas, but there was a slower, less urgent 
rhythm that an increasingly inebriated Lisa found more 
fascinating than frightening.

But where she knew she'd feel more comfortable, and of 
which there was thankfully plenty on offer, was in the 
company of those women who were passing around 
pitifully small joints and discussing boyfriends. She 
lowered herself to sit cross-legged in one huddled ring of 
women and watched a woman painstakingly roll a spliff. 
This woman had long grey hair and was naked except for 
her knickers. It was quite odd for Lisa to see such a mature 
sagging bosom. Part of Lisa celebrated her feminine 
positivity regarding the aging process. And part of her 
couldn't help hoping that her own breasts might be in a less 
drooping state when she was as old.

"Hey! I fucking love this number!" suddenly said one of 
the women who made up Lisa's private dope-smoking 
circle. She stood up and boogied to the mechanical beats.

"Me too!" said another, who jumped up and jiggled 
towards the area of the living room where the women were 
dancing.

"Oh shit!" thought Lisa, as she was left alone, without even 
the comfort of a spliff as all her coterie stood up to dance 
to the music that Lisa wouldn't, couldn't, envisage 
enjoying. 

She hated all that dance shit.

And there she was all alone, smashed, but not really that 
happy, and wondered how long she should wait till she 
could discreetly leave. The whole evening was a disaster.

"You all right, sweetheart?" Lisa heard, and felt a cigarette-
adorned hand rest itself on her shoulder. 

"Yeah. Fine," said Lisa, who turned her head and saw that 
the woman addressing her was Virginia Falls herself-the 
very reason she'd ventured into this alien world.

"And you're...?" Virginia asked her.

"Lisa Triple X."

"Yeah, of course. And you're from?"

"Basingstoke. Erm... Hants. Hampshire."

"Never heard of it. Weird name for a website. You're 
English, aren'tcha?"

Lisa studied Virginia Falls who was crouched beside her, 
with a cigarette in her long fingers, the plasters torn off the 
studiedly erect nipples of her enormous bosom and a 
strapped-on dildo between her sturdy thighs that 
glimmered with moisture in the dim light.

"Yeah. English."

"I fucking hate this European dance shit!" Virginia 
exclaimed.

"Me, too!" said Lisa, glad to find she had something very 
much in common with her idol. 

"What do you like?"

"Erm...Keane. Muse. Franz Ferdinand."

"Ain't heard of them. They're English groups, right? I like 
Bon Jovi and Bruce Springsteen," she said.

Although this confession of unreservedly naff taste did 
nothing for Lisa, she nodded. "Yeah. Fucking great stuff."

"Well, girl," said Virginia Falls, with a decidedly greedy 
expression. "Don't fucking make us wait. Take your 
fucking clothes off!"

"My clothes?"

"Fuck's sake, yeah!" said Virginia. "Let's see your cunt."

This was probably the least romantic invitation for sex that 
Lisa had ever heard, but she was sufficiently in awe of 
Virginia to obey. 

Unhesitatingly.

There was no time at all between when Lisa tugged off her 
knickers and, almost as an afterthought, unclasped her bra, 
that Virginia's fingers, the ones not still pincering a 
cigarette, pushed into Lisa's vagina, a thrust which both 
alarmed and excited her.

"Fuck! You're one wet bitch!" said Virginia, pushing three 
fingers backwards and forwards into Lisa's vagina from 
which above even the thumping sound of the dance music 
she was sure she could hear the slosh of her well-lubricated 
inner lips. She was responding with more enthusiasm than 
she'd ever imagined possible from the attention of a 
woman. Clearly, Lisa's libido had been more aroused by all 
the lovemaking around her than she'd thought.

Although Virginia was clearly several sheets to the wind, 
she knew what to do when presented with fresh flesh and 
orchestrated Lisa towards further passion and what she was 
certain was an early orgasm with almost careless expertise. 
One hand pushed back and forth into Lisa's vagina between 
her spread-open legs while her tongue and other hand, now 
having disposed of the cigarette, caressed her breasts. And 
all the while, Lisa arched her back and gasped with an 
explosion of sexual ecstasy that exceeded anything she'd 
enjoyed with Simon since... Well, since they were a much 
younger couple.

And then Lisa heard some voices around her and felt a 
third hand stroke her bare shoulder. "I knew Ginny'd get 
round to the Goth girl," one said. "Fuck! She's a goer." said 
another. "Leave some for me, sweetheart," implored a 
third.

And the chorus of exclamations was merely the prelude for 
a pair of lips to clamp against her own. Lisa was startled 
but also excited to see that it was the older woman whose 
bosom she'd recently been remarking. Another pair of lips 
nibbled at her other nipple. And then she felt the 
unmistakeable incursion of a long stiff and, in this case, 
wholly reliable phallus. She looked above her, beyond the 
hair that obscured half her face and belonged to Sunny, and 
over the shoulder of a thin shaven-haired girl with several 
times more facial jewellery than even adorned Lisa's. And 
there was Virginia, kneeling and upright, her hands clasped 
around her waist, and her crotch pistoning back and forth, 
and her dildo embedded in Lisa's vagina.

It became harder and harder for Lisa to be sure exactly 
what happened after this. The bodies that surrounded and 
preyed on her changed and shifted. Other dildos, not just 
the one sported by Virginia, took turns at penetrating in 
her. And even, for one thankfully brief moment, inside her 
anus. She was conscious of the sweat and heat of all this 
flesh and of her own reciprocating with exactly as much 
perspiration. This was an initiation to Sapphic love of a 
kind that exceeded in ferocity the initiation rites of an 
American College Fraternity.

So, this was what it was like. This was what Lisa Triple X 
had pretended all these months to be so nonchalantly 
familiar with. This was female empowerment of the most 
extreme kind, where men were both unnecessary and 
irrelevant. This was the ultimate expression of Lisa's 
obsession with Ting Dot Com and its webmistress.

And almost as abruptly as it all began, the multiple 
lovemaking finished as the heap of naked bodies shifted 
their attention from her, some to each other and some to 
the imbibing of more alcohol and the like. And Lisa was 
left spreadeagled on a mattress of cushions by the corner of 
the room with no sign of her bra and a cigarette stubbed 
out in her knickers.

"That'll impress Simon," thought Lisa with a smile as she 
picked up her singed underwear. 

She knew she wouldn't stay much longer at the party. Lisa 
didn't want to be one of those girls who littered the living 
room floor when dawn arrived. She'd have a cigarette, 
maybe two, and another glass of wine, and then gather her 
clothes to leave.

She sat cross-legged, still naked, still flushed with post-
coital excitement and also just a little disgusted with 
herself. Her vagina was indeed sore and it promised to stay 
so at least until she returned to England. The party around 
her had disintegrated into small disconnected groups of 
sexual caressing and private conversation, while the 
woman DJ, the most modestly dressed woman at the party, 
was playing music that was rather less frantic and a lot 
more atmospheric.

These were the last few moments in which Lisa Triple X 
would wander the world. That was a pseudonym that 
would now expire, just as Lisa was now intent on deleting 
the bookmark to Ting.com and its icon of a woman's 
crotch. She was pleased to have been to this party and she 
had experienced more passionate sex with her on-line idol 
than she'd ever expected. There was nothing left to achieve. 

In ways beyond what Virginia Falls' website could ever 
have intended, Lisa was sure she had exhausted all that an 
internet female sex site could ever offer. Now she had to 
continue with her life with Simon where she had left off. 

With any luck he'd still be awake when she got back to the 
Holiday Inn. And, although she was pretty much shagged 
out, she still had the sexual energy to cap her day with 
intimacy and passion that promised unfeigned emotional 
content.