Words, Words, Words

Author's Note: This piece was another experiment, similar to two other recent works, Eye Contact and Body Language. In this case, a story of two people half a world apart, with words as their only bridge. All characters 18+, and any resemblance between real persons or events is coincidental. Enjoy.

"Letter writing is the only device combining solitude with good company."

-Lord Byron

***

Part 1

***

SheilaByAnyOtherName: Well, here I am. In your DMs.

NorthStarNeverFar: Welcome. First time I've offered or accepted.

Sheila: Ooh, a virgin. Delicious. So tell me, what sort of person responds to a standard 'I'm bored, someone play with me' post with an actual sonnet?

North: The kind that knows a Shakespeare reference when he sees one.

Sheila: Good start. Was yours an original, by the way?

North: I assume you can tell because it wasn't very good.

Sheila: Could have fooled me. Though I'll be honest, I don't actually make a habit of reading poetry all that often.

North: So then why'd you sidle up to me, if poetry's not your thing?

Sheila: Because you didn't send me the text equivalent of a disappointing dick pic and you have good grammar and spelling (Yank nonsense notwithstanding). And because I could tell you weren't just feeding me whatever AI said would work.

North: And how did you know that?

Sheila: I work in AI. Gets pretty obvious after a while. So what's your story? I assume you're not in tech.

North: I'm in tech from thirty-odd years ago. Welcome to the Arctic Circle.

Sheila: Likely story.

North: My gloves and puffy jacket beg to differ. Even inside I can see my breath, but it's a lot better than outside.

Sheila: Oh really? Hm... Alright, I've decided that's interesting enough. What are you doing up there besides going funny colours?

North: Research. I'm part of a collection of universities running a lot of experiments up here in a horrible little collection of square buildings and airlocks. Though I think the main one is "How long until all the scientists freeze to death or go insane?"

Sheila: Wouldn't take long for either if it were me.

North: And where are you?

Sheila: Guess, Boy.

North: Australia, Girl.

Sheila: G'day G'day, what gave it away? Ooh, look at that, I'm a poet. Sheila One, North Nil.

North: Everyone has to get through their rhyming phase sometime. One-One. Anyway, your name was a hint, as was your spelling. Plus your profile says one of your hobbies is 'Going Down (Under).'

Sheila: Truth in advertising. And I'm quite good at it. ;)

North: Figures. I'm shivering (perhaps less so, now) in four layers and a scarf, surrounded by lab equipment, running my samples, and you're probably lounging in AC.

Sheila: Lounging is a good word for it. But not in aircon. I'm fairly certain I'm wearing a lot less than you right now. It's a searing-hot late November as usual down here. I'm by a crystal-clear pool. Care for a dip?

North: I would. So with all the sunshine in the world, what are you doing talking to someone who has to thaw out his toothpaste?

Sheila: Just because I'm bored doesn't mean I lack standards. You seemed promising, as I said.

North: Then we have something in common. However, Rule One around here is 'don't sweat' because once you stop moving, you start freezing. So your warming me up might be a problem.

Sheila: Challenge accepted. Want to know how I made the Naughty list today, Mister North Pole?

North: Something tells me you're not well-acquainted with the Nice list.

Sheila: Before I came down to the pool, I had a nice, long session of solo fantasy fun in my hotel room. And nobody here the wiser. Makes for a tasty little thrill every time I pretend to chew my nails.

North: And there goes the scarf and hood. What was the fantasy about?

Sheila: How many layers did you say were left?

Sheila:... still there? It's been a minute.

North: Hold, please. Doing math.

Sheila: Hard to count past one with mittens on, or are your hands just too busy?

North: Gloves. I can count to at least five. I was checking on my ice core samples. Timing's important. And while I'm certainly glad to be chatting with you, my research is a jealous mistress. We've got about fifteen minutes before she comes back.

Sheila: Love a man who knows timing and how to stay focused. So what ARE you timing up there?

North: Growth patterns of halophile microbiota under shifting abiotic conditions.

Sheila: Oh, so you're looking at how salt-loving plankton spread along the bottom three centimeters of ice and supersalinated water for optimum light and nutrient collection, pending microclimate fluctuations that aren't fully understood given the rapidly changing baseline data on shifting ocean currents? And this will somehow tell a few incredibly old, well-connected people that yes, the climate is definitely changing like we all know it has for fifty years and they should probably throw some cash at you about it?

North:... You put my reply into AI and asked it to translate, didn't you?

Sheila: Absolutely not. I'm Australia's top expert on whatever that nonsense is. Although I will admit to a bit of editorialization in the second sentence.

North: I'll be sure to cite you if I ever have to present this crap. So what's the dress code for chatting with the Abominable Snowman to pass the time poolside?

Sheila: Bathers, a wrap, and flawless skin.

North: You can't do better than that?

Sheila: 'Please, Ma'am, may I have some more?' Alright, I'll play. I've got some thongs (the kind on your feet, tyvm). Bikini - very cute blue one with little white bows. The bottoms don't cover the whole bottom because why should they? Top barely covers the girls as well. Sunscreen and sunnies, of course. And a great big shade hat to help hide my phone. I wouldn't want people to know I'm slumming it with some academic.

North: Wonderful. Help me see it.

Sheila: You're asking for a photo of me?

North: No, I'm asking for a description of where you are. I haven't smelled clean, overheated summer skin in a long time.

Sheila: Oh, good boy. Very good. Well, I'm in a big pool chair lounger, elevated just slightly. There's a saucy book and a cold gin-something next to me, both of which I've barely touched because I've been too busy trolling the forums and getting nowhere until now. There are little birds everywhere, looking for crumbs. No wind, just heat.

North: I'm there. How about you?

Sheila: My legs are smooth and shiny, and I *just* flipped over to my front. I work too hard on my buns at the gym and my aesthetician is too well-paid not to show them off a little.

North: Killing me.

Sheila: Softly?

North: Not any more. So. Business or Pleasure?

Sheila: Both. Company retreat and business meetings at a resort, and I'm staying a day later than expected to meet with some clients tomorrow. But today I'm 'off,' much as I can be. I'm in the VIP section of the pool. It's far, far away from the area with all the screaming families.

North: VIP? I've heard of that in fairy tales. What's that like?

Sheila: It means I'm rich enough to be left alone unless it's to ask if I want anything.

North: I'd be lonely.

Sheila: I'm not lonely right now. Besides, that's business these days. And anyway, I like the VIP life. Pays to get paid. I'm sure you agree.

North: Ms. Sheila, I study Arctic ecology. Not a lot of money in that. Or future, come to think of it.

Sheila: Pity. Well if it doesn't work out, I could always use an executive assistant. The last however-many had nervous breakdowns.

North: N+1 time's a charm.

Sheila: That's the spirit! So, can you imagine yourself poolside yet?

North: Yes, I can see it now... 'So sorry, Miss, we have no idea how this vagrant got in here. Shall we tase him?'

Sheila: I just startled the life out of some poor woman from the laugh I made.

North: I was only trying to get to the ice machine, I swear! It was purely scientific interest!

Sheila: Don't worry, my hirsute damsel, I'll save you!

North: My knight in shining oil!

Sheila: No, no, he's with me! Unhand him! Or at least let me strip him down, the poor thing will die in this heat.

North: I think I like you.

Sheila: I hear that a lot. Well, this has been fun. I'm supposed to go to dinner in half an hour, and I need to get changed. Take care of those whats-its for me, would you?

North: I will. And thank you for spending time with me, Sheila. It made this little slice of Hell seem a lot closer to Heaven. I had fun. Truly.

Sheila: I have to admit, I've had a fun time talking with you as well. Up for another chat sometime?

North: Very much so.

Sheila: Then I invite you to look South once in a while. I know I'll be looking up North.

***

Sheila: Well that was an unexpected delight. I get back from the restaurant and there's another poem waiting in my inbox, comparing me to the Aurora Borealis? Do you send that to every woman who messages you cabana-side, tasting of herself and teasing you for giggles?

Sheila: Hm. I see that you're away. Well, I had a productive business dinner, but for whatever reason I had to fight the urge to fidget and check my phone. Until I hear from you (and I expect to): Don't let the frost bite. At least not the important parts.

***

North: Sorry I missed you the other day.

North: I'm up and down at odd hours for the samples. Unfortunately, I have to leave in the morning for a while to... you guessed it, get more samples. Then everyone's got to pitch in to unload the supply drop, then I'm on facilities laundry rotation, etc etc etc. Going to be a long, inelegant day. Well, could be night. No idea, and it doesn't matter this time of year. Just stars, laptop screens, and the Aurora. ;)

***

Sheila: Aren't you the glamorous one? I'm back home from the retreat and feeling quite... restless. Wish I had something stiff and ice-cold in one hand, stiff and nicely warm in the other. I wonder which one you might be?

***

Sheila: Are you there, or did the wolves get you? For your sake, it had better be wolves.

***

Sheila: Got bored. Posted again. Lots of offers. No poetry.

***

Sheila: When or if you come back, it had better be with some pretty words. A lady shouldn't be kept waiting. Or daydreaming.

***

Part 2

***

North: Apologies for the delay (what day is it, anyway?). Technical difficulties.

Sheila: Oh for fuck's sake. NOW? I'm at work and I am annoyed with you.

North: With this chat window open? Please tell me you're not sharing your screen.

Sheila: I'm not, and I work from home like everyone else, and this is on my personal laptop, not my work laptop. I thought I said to get lost.

North: And yet you wrote back as soon as I said anything. That means you left your screen open on our chat.

Sheila: Shoo! Besides, I'm hardly dressed for visitors.

North: Which means?

Sheila: Ratty top, old shorts, messy bun, strong coffee, and a glare that could cut a car in half. Everyone's trying to slack off at work because the holidays are on the horizon and I want to fire the lot of them. Happy?!?!

North: Apoplexy may be bad for complexion, but coronal mass ejection is a beautiful expression of a heavenly suggestion. After all, what are the Northern Lights but an erupting star? So yes, I am happy to speak with one particular Celestial Body.

Sheila: You really should be my executive assistant. I've never had a mood pivot that hard from bad to good before. I think you owe it to the interns to come save them. Or at least spare me from their bawling. Overprivileged children, all of them.

North: Shall I compare thee to a melting ice cap?

Sheila: A woman of my station is NOT supposed to snort. It's hardly professional.

North: I'll leave you be, then. Seems you have things to do. Goodbye.

Sheila: No you don't. Stay right where you are. I'm owed.

North: Requests considered, demands ignored.

Sheila: Is that so? Well, then. Don't expect me to beg. Ever. But I have a few minutes to chat if you do.

North: In that case, I'd love to.

Sheila: Good. But really, where have you been?

North: Doing amateur internet tech support at the edge of the world. Want to hear the story?

Sheila: Not likely. Sounds incredibly boring. I think we were supposed to be flirting.

North: Okay, I'll make it brief. A polar bear thought our giant satellite dish was a nice, comfy spot for a nap because it was warm. Our fault for putting it on the ground so it would be out of the wind behind the main research building.

Sheila: Bugger off, it did not.

North: I assure you, it did. The real trick was figuring out how to annoy a 13-foot-long murder machine enough that it would leave but not so much that it would actually get mad.

Sheila: I have heard some absolutely wild excuses for standing me up before, but this one might be the stupidest.

North: [Sending]

Sheila: What's this?

North: Limited bandwidth. Give it a minute.

Sheila: Fuck ME!!!

North: Yeah, he was a big fella. Anyway, we were flirting. You and me, that is. I wouldn't want to assume anything about the bear's personal life.

Sheila: Well if we weren't flirting before, we sure as hell are now.

North: Great. But now I have to make sure it's for the right reasons.

Sheila: Go on.

North: I didn't fight it hand to hand or anything. Me and a bunch of other terrified nerds got in the snowcrawlers, flashed our high beams, honked horns, and blasted horrible music at it until it wandered off. Decisively stupid victory. Then it was a full day of working in shifts to patch things together well enough to get a call to headquarters so they could airlift a replacement and a backup to us. Then we had to set it up. How many international scientists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

Sheila: So more like a sitcom side character than an action hero.

North: That's me in a nutshell.

Sheila: Somehow hotter.

North: Really? Well, I hope you don't mind me saying so, but you tearing yourself away from making more money per minute than I can imagine just to talk with me is somehow hotter than being teased poolside.

Sheila: That's only because you have no idea what I look like in a bikini.

North: You're right. Paint me a picture.

Sheila: Later. I have to get this done.

North: Limited bandwidth?

Sheila: Clever. But get thee gone, Sitcom Superman. I will speak with you when ready.

North: Exit stage left. Just one more thing, though.

Sheila: One.

North: I've been thinking fondly of you. Made the last week a lot less miserable. I was very sorry we couldn't talk. I may or may not have been motivated to lead the charge to the crawlers.

Sheila: Very much noted. Now get going.

North: Ma'am.

***

Sheila: Hello. Evening here now. Where art thou?

Sheila: Let me guess, you're out doing something else absurdly manly, aren't you? Suppose I'll just have to wait. Let's see if you can beat Doordash.

***

North: Apologies, I was out for a meal.

Sheila: You... went out to eat?

North: No, it just sounded slightly less unsexy than 'mess hall' and 'dish duty rotation.'

Sheila: Ha! Now I'm really appreciating my pad kee mao.

North: I'm jealous.

Sheila: And I'm 'bored.'

North: You had my interest. Now you have my attention.

Sheila: Likewise. I read some of your back-catalogue on the site over the last week, you know. The stories, that is.

North: And?

Sheila: And now I'm up far past my bedtime.

North: Just you? No AI reading over your shoulder?

Sheila: Not right now. But you should get used to it, you know. Can't hide in the polar wastes forever. Though I am still impressed you 'fought' a polar bear.

North: You impress and scare me more. Want to know how?

Sheila: Me and this glass of good New Zealand white are skeptical, yet curious. Let's hear the elevator pitch.

North: Alright. I think you're on the front lines of our future, and more critical to ice than I am. I observe what's there. You get to help decide IF it's there.

Sheila: Oh come on. I'm just making money by being a nerd-wrangler and a bullshitter of stupidly rich people who want to be bullshitted while they make even more money. Not exactly where I thought I'd end up with my background, but here I am. May as well make the most of it.

North: You'd know better than I would. What's interesting to me is that you're not making money now. You're making time. I think you want to care about the Arctic and the Aurora. And me.

Sheila: I don't know anything about any of that.

North: Want to?

Sheila: Haven't blocked you yet. Start with the ice.

Sheila: Still there?

North: Thinking. I want to give a good answer.

Sheila: A man that thinks before he speaks? God, say it slower.

North: Ha. Alright, ready.

Sheila: Glass refilled. Swoon me.

North: When you stand on it in the middle of the winter pack, it goes to the horizon. It seems like nothing is out here. So you sit and breathe in the stillness. And then, from nowhere: 'cheep.' Amazingly, there they are; little snow buntings, pecking at something invisible. As casual as poolside sparrows and cuter than cotton balls. Near the long breaks in the ice - the polynya - there are gabbling sea birds diving for food, and deep whale-breaths, and comfortably dozing seals. And then there are the fields of flowers. Know what they are?

Sheila: I could pretend, but no. And cheating via AI feels less interesting than hearing it from you.

North: The way to a man's heart is through his ego. ;)

Sheila: Don't I know it. So, flowers? How do they even survive?

North: Ice flowers. They're little clusters of water crystals that form on the thinnest sea ice when there's no wind. They look like white, dense, fractal ferns the size of your fist. They're a very pretty way of saying that if you go too far into them, you'll fall through and die.

Sheila: That's beautiful. And kind of scary.

North: It is. And over it all, the Aurora. The lights change and crackle as they move, like the sky is wearing petticoats of different colors that swirl as it dances. Makes sense why so many different people thought it was the bridge between life and death.

North:... Sheila?

Sheila: Definitely here. Was getting up to turn the aircon higher. I want to shiver a little, now.

North: I don't mind inspiring that.

Sheila: The fact that you can in 30-odd degree weather is saying something.

North: Except yours is 30 C above and mine is 30 C below or worse.

Sheila: That doesn't actually happen, does it???

North: Haha, you could always come up here and find out.

Sheila: And where's that exactly? I'm dying to know.

North: North Pole Base. Very top-secret.

Sheila: Fine then. Keep your secrets. Just remember that I can make the greatest minds and machines on Earth find your frozen self any time I want. It would take only a few seconds of my time between negotiating one gigantic contract after another.

North: Seems like a waste of resources on all counts. You could find a perfectly good replica of me down at the animal shelter anytime.

Sheila: Stop making me giggle. It's rude.

North: Alright. How about flush, gasp, and shake instead?

Sheila: Are you offering something besides witticisms?

North: I am. I wanted to make sure I liked you, first.

Sheila: I'd like that. And I like that, too.

North: Give me ten minutes. My roommate is on his sleep rotation and I don't want people wandering in to find me in my lab. I need to find an unused storage unit I can lock.

Sheila: You've got five. Nerd-wrangler, remember?

North: I do, Miss Sheila. But I'm pretty sure you'll wait as long as it takes. ;)

***

Part 3

***

North: Twenty seconds to spare. Where were we?

Sheila: You were getting my hopes up about flushing and gasping. I trust you won't disappoint.

North: Only if I can imagine myself there. Are you in bed?

Sheila: No. Couch. I like it here. Lights are off. Got a little blankie because the aircon is on max.

North: Good. Comfy?

Sheila: Yes.

North: Wonderful. What would you do if I were to walk into the room?

Sheila: Full inspection to start. Stand at attention, young man.

North: Don't forget: requests considered, demands ignored.

Sheila: Hnngh. Fine. Would you please come here and disrobe for me?

North: Gladly. I'll need some help, though. My fingers don't work so well when they're cold.

Sheila: I'll warm them up. Fingers that write poetry and chase off bears absolutely beg for a tongue. Besides, I like giving a preview.

North: Oh, very nice. Turnabout is fair play, though. I'd like a taste of your fingers as well. The way they were poolside.

Sheila: Good boy. Here you are.

North: You taste delicious. And my body is starting to give my mind away.

Sheila: I can tell. It's why I'm being a bit rough in getting you down to bare skin. You can't resist this mouth. I know it. You've been staring at it all evening. I'm glad. It means I picked the right shade of lipstick.

North: You're right. Now I'm all yours. Hope you have the time. Look up when you do.

Sheila: Gladly. I like watching a man melt for me. Let me take off my glasses.

North: Leave them on.

Sheila: While I'm glad you like a girl with glasses (and they're staying on in real life so I can read), they're definitely coming off in our little shared dream. Know why?

North: I'd love to learn.

Sheila: This way I can go as deep as I like.

North: You'd think I'd be used to shivering by now.

Sheila: Help me see you. What am I working with?

North: Built from effort, lean from life, strong from necessity. And right now, hard as ice.

Sheila: Now that IS a North Star. Tell me, now that I'm getting acquainted and I'm on my knees... are you cut or uncut?

North: Uncut.

Sheila: My favourite. I have a compliment for you, you know.

North: Oh?

Sheila: You're the first man who's said nothing about his size to me in a sex chat.

North: You didn't ask.

Sheila: Oh, a kiss and more for the gallant hero. You know, I've found that I like my men the way I like my clothes: it's all about the right fit. I'm sure you're lovely, though. There's a certain... energy about some men. I can tell.

North: Trust your instincts, then.

Sheila: I do. And I'm being quite greedy with my prize. I love learning which buttons to press.

North: Slower, please. You're quite talented and it has been far too long for me.

Sheila: Would it be wicked of me to refuse?

North: Very. But it makes me smile in a lupine way.

Sheila: Good. How does it feel when I giggle with you in my throat?

North: Savagely blissful.

Sheila: Then it's back to coy kisses and dainty suckling so you don't get too far gone, Sweetie. Now that you're being teased so badly, what will you do to me?

North: I hope you don't mind being picked up and carried to bed over one shoulder.

Sheila: You sure you can do that?

North: Let's just say I'm confident.

Sheila: Unhand me, you brute!

North: A brute would smack your ass while he carried you away. Is that the kind of man you want me to be tonight?

Sheila: Very much so. I like it when my bum smarts.

North: Then I'll toss you facedown on the bed. I've missed the sound of skin rippling under a playful, firm hand.

Sheila: Mm. A bit more. And harder. I know you're frustrated. Thing is, so am I. I've made my way to the bedroom here, by the way. I'm enjoying you. Keep talking while I pick a toy.

North: As much as you like. And then I'm biting my way from knee to neck, my dear.

Sheila: Oh, yes please. Then a bit more of the palm. Just until I squeak. We can do a lot more another time. For now... I want to see if a man like you knows how to treat a lady like me. You know what I mean.

North: My favorite. When I tear away whatever you're wearing so I can go down on you, what do you look like? I'm guessing smooth, if you're a bikini fan.

Sheila: Good guess. There was only one little bit of performative fabric to get rid of just now anyway. How'd you take it off?

North: With my teeth, of course. And then my hands and a little helpful shimmy from you after it inevitably gets stuck. I like how we laughed together. It made the kissing after feel joyful before it got heated. And I loved that I could taste the evidence of your earlier skill on your lips. Fox.

Sheila: