Vee - Chapter 1

[Deleted Member]

The train hummed beneath her, the steady vibration traveling through the metal and up into her bones. The rhythmic sway of the carriage should have been soothing, but Victoria, Vee to her friends, Victoria to her mother, and, infuriatingly, Victoria to him, was anything but calm.

Her fingers curled tightly around the edges of the book resting in her lap, knuckles pale against the worn cover. It was the one he had sent her weeks ago, a surprise delivery with no note, no explanation, just a smirk of a text afterward. ‘Read this and think of me’

She had known, even before turning the first page, exactly what kind of book it was.

And now, as the train rocked her closer to him, she was struggling to concentrate on the words.

The heroine in the novel was pressed against a wall, the kind of overwhelming encounter that left no room for thought, only sensation. She should have been rolling her eyes, dismissing it as cliché, but instead, she clenched her thighs together, heat pooling low in her stomach.

Because she wasn’t just reading the scene. She was imagining it.

Imagining him.

He had a way of speaking to her that had undone her in ways she hadn’t anticipated. His voice was deep, smooth, like the kind of whiskey you sip slowly to savor the burn. He never rushed, never fumbled over his words. Every message, every late-night call, had been deliberate. A slow tease. A challenge.

"You think I wouldn’t take my time with you?" he had murmured one night, his voice thick in her ear. "You think I’d rush? No, sweetheart. You’d feel me everywhere first. You’d beg."

She had scoffed at the time. But she hadn’t hung up.

And now, with the train rocking and the book open to a scene that mirrored her own fantasies too closely, she was struggling to suppress the ache between her thighs.

A sharp inhale. A slow exhale.

She pressed the book closed, resting it against her lap as she glanced around the packed carriage.

It was busy, bodies pressed too close, the air thick with the scent of too many perfumes and the lingering sharpness of coffee and commuters. No one was looking at her. They were too wrapped up in their own worlds, the woman scrolling her phone, the man tapping away at a laptop, the ***ager nodding along to music only they could hear.

And yet, she felt exposed.

Not because of them.

Because of him.

Even though he wasn’t here, even though they had never met in person before, he had this infuriating ability to make her feel watched, as though he were lingering just out of sight, waiting.

Watching.

God, what the fuck am I doing?

The thought hit her hard.

She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be on a train s***ding toward a man she had only ever known through a screen. She should be at work, enduring another ***fully long meeting while Andrew leered at her across the boardroom table, making comments about her “serious face” and how she’d be “so much prettier if she smiled more.”

She clenched her jaw. Andrew. The reason she had even leaned so far into this online affair in the first place.

At first, she had used him, the mystery man, to keep Andrew at bay. A convenient lie. A safety net. A way to push back against the relentless, suffocating advances of her boss.

But at some point, it had stopped being a lie.

Somewhere between the teasing messages and the late-night calls, he had become real.

And now, she was about to meet him.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, and she exhaled sharply, tilting her head back against the seat.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

She could still walk away. She could still get off this train at the next stop, turn around, pretend this was a momentary lapse in judgment.

Except, she didn’t want to.

She was tired of walking away.

Of keeping herself small. Of being sensible, responsible, always the one who made the right decisions.

Phil had told her she was sexy when they first got together, back when she was 24 and naive enough to believe that love was enough to sustain desire. But that was before. Before the drifting. Before the silence in bed. Before the cold, detached look in his eyes when she had stood before him in that damn lingerie set, desperate, humiliated, offering herself in a way he had never truly wanted.

"You don’t turn me on anymore, Vee."

The words still lingered, a wound that hadn’t quite healed, no matter how much she pretended it had.

Her fingers tightened around the book again, forcing herself to focus on the words on the cover.

That wasn’t who she was anymore.

She wasn’t the woman who begged for attention, who tried to rekindle something long gone.

She wasn’t the woman who let men like Andrew corner her, who smiled politely through his suggestive remarks, who tolerated his lingering touches in the office just to avoid conflict.

And she wasn’t the woman who let herself be discarded, ignored, rejected.

Not anymore.

The train jolted, and she exhaled sharply, the reality settling over her like a weight.

She was really doing this.

Meeting a man who, for two years, had existed in her life only through words and late-night fantasies.

Her stomach twisted in a mess of nerves and anticipation.

What if he wasn’t what she expected?
What if she wasn’t what he expected?
What if this was all a mistake?

Or worse, what if it wasn’t?

The thought sent a shiver through her.

The station came into view, the platform appearing in the hazy evening light, the train slowing to a crawl.

Her breath hitched.

This was it.

She smoothed down the front of her coat, adjusting the way it cinched at her waist, checking her reflection in the glass before the train came to a full stop.

The doors slid open with a soft hiss.

A rush of fresh air hit her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the crowded carriage.

She stepped forward. One foot, then the other.

The noise of the station was a blur, people rushing past her, conversations blending into a distant hum.

And then, she saw him.

Standing still in the crowd, waiting.

No screen. No distorted voice through a phone.

Just him.

His eyes locked onto hers, sharp, assessing, as though ***ling away every layer of hesitation she was still holding onto.

A slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Her breath caught.

What the fuck am I doing?

Too late now.

She walked forward.

[Deleted Member]

Please, more!! I'm loving this 🫠

[Deleted Member]

Ill drop the next installment over the weekend.