Update - (And a QT UK sneak peak)

Hey, so, the muse is back and the words are finally flowing again, so it seemed smart to give a bit of an update on my plans for things this month. I'd also thought that subscriptions were turned off until June, and only realised that they weren't when a handful of new members started sneaking in, so I'm going to roll with it and put myself back on the hook for making sure you have plenty of word count coming your way.

I've jumped straight from the recent uploads for QT:UK 10 and 11 into writing the next part, a lot of which are points and ideas I've been waiting months to get to. Hopefully this means there aren't any knots in terms of pacing and plot points to juggle and I'm worrying entirely about getting the words in my head onto the page. I want to have everything up to the resolution of things with Aoife wrapped up before any public posts which is almost certainly going to mean an update as big as this last one which was pushing 20,000 words. I've fallen into writing things and planning them a scene/section at a time, and the last two chapters clocked in at 6 of them together. To really deliver the pay off Aoife deserves I've already got 9 in mind for this next part so it's not going to all be done in a week as much as some commenters on Literotica might hope.

The good news there for you guys is that you don't have to wait for it all in one go if you don't want to, as I'll be putting out WIP versions of the chapter more or less scene by scene as I go...including the first one I have ready for you now. The connective tissue of how these all string together might change a bit, but there should be plenty there to keep you going.

And while I've been doing that, Riley's voice has been more vocal in the back of my head asking when I'm going to get back to her story in Picture Perfect, so at some point I'm going to be jumping into that.

When I started this I had in mind around 5000 words as a good word count for a chapter, and wanted to aim to do a single chapter for each story a month. That doesn't seem to really fit how long either of my stories chapters are going to end up being at this point, but I'm still going to make sure that's at least how many words you're getting for both - exclusive here until everything after is finished, and in the case of Picture Perfect with a few months further head start before any public release.

Finally, a bunch of you probably follow Break the Bar and know how he's got art commissioned for characters in his stories. No promises, but I'm going to do my best to try and have something similar in store at some point along the line, mostly because I like the idea, but also to give you all a little extra bonus. I've an idea who's going to be getting that treatment first, but sound off in the comments if you've got strong feelings on who you'd like to see.

Thanks for the support - Aga

*****

October 2nd 2020 (3 weeks earlier)

‘Light, is all over us.

‘Like it always was…’

The synth-pop intro of the latest track that Aoife was sharing from her Spotify built in the background of the video call; a Scottish woman’s vocals, trilled and melodic over reverbed bass. The sound caused Ethan’s face to crease in feigned displeasure in the corner of her second monitor, before his voice chimed in over her headphones.

“Again? Come on Aoife, you’re killing me.”

The engineer responded by simply kicking up the volume, before giving a troll-like smirk to her own webcam. “What’s wrong with Chvrches? They’re better than most of the pish you listen to.”

“Sure, if you insist,” came the sarcastic response. “But this is still like the 3rd time you’ve played this one tonight though, and it takes forever to get to the drop.”

She leaned back in her chair in front of the two screens, brought from home along with her PC, that she’d just about managed to perch on the hotel room desk. Ethan had pretty similar tastes in music to her most of the time, but she considered his knee-jerk dislike of anything he considered too ‘pop’ to be a moral failing, and she had to admit she kept going back to the same track once he’d complained mostly for the fun of aggravating him.

“You,” she said, finishing what was left in her bright, cartoon-covered can of IPA, before tossing it in the direction of the bin that sat in the corner, “have no appreciation of delayed gratification.”

The can bounced off the rim with a ding and rolled away under the bed. Normally it was something she’d have picked up immediately, but tonight it would need to wait rather, knowing she wasn’t about to get up. She was aware of Ethan replying, but for a moment her attention strayed back to the window open on her main monitor, with the questions that sat there in front of her feeling just as deliriously unreal as they had been when she first saw them.

“Sorry, you say something?”

“I said, when this is all over we’re heading into Manchester one night, so I can show you what actual music sounds like.” The statement hung there for a moment, waiting to see if either of them noticed the half-intended implication to Ethan’s invitation. If Aoife had caught it, she’d have jumped at the hinted promise of a night out with him, but she was too swept along in the weird, awkward energy of the questionnaire they both hand open, and ended up brushing it off instead.

“Ok, no offence Ballbag, but I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing thinking about music while we have this in front of us?”

Something unreadable passed over Ethan’s face, and she missed that too before it flickered away. “...fair point.”

They had both definitely had less bizarre Friday nights.

The email from Palisade’s management had arrived that morning with the highest priority, along with fresh login information for a system called Delphi, and a warning that failure to complete the survey which employees would find there within 48 hours risked having their contracts terminated. Her initial impulse had been that it was some sort of weird phishing attempt, but several enquiries confirmed that it was, in fact, real. And as much as she hated Palisade’s bullshit, she hated the idea of not being paid more, leaving her little choice but to grudgingly oblige. Fortunately she’d decided she wasn’t going to do so alone, or entirely sober.

The first four of the five sections on the sleek, corporate, web portal for the Delphi would have slowly sapped her will to live if she hadn’t had Ethan there on a video call with her, as she filled in page after page of information under the headings Demographics, Health Declarations, Personality Assessment and Professional Competencies. But wanting someone to talk had at least been another excuse to spend time with him after their movie night a couple of evenings earlier, even if they didn’t have a Hammer Horror like The Devil Rides Out to talk over.

It was the fifth section however, titled cryptically as ‘Compatibility Survey,’ that had utterly upended whatever expectations they might have had, even after the disclaimer they were asked to agree to, warning them that Delphi accepted no responsibility for the consequences if they failed to accurately answer questions of a personal nature. As Aoife had clicked confirm row after row of numberless sliders had come into view, asking her to adjust them to indicate how much she agreed with each of the hundreds of accompanying statements. It was the questions themselves however that had left both of them checking to see just how much they’d had to drink.   

‘I prefer sexual/romantic partners older than myself’

‘I enjoy or fantasise about being choked or asphyxiated in sexual situations’

‘I have pictured myself in sexual situations with multiple partners’

Direct, personal, often explicit, Aoife’s initial impulse was to simply close the window. But somehow the pair of them had encouraged each other into answering as their awkward, morbid curiosity had turned into banter, the sheer absurdity of what they were doing defying any attempt to take it too seriously. The order of the questions was randomised for both of them, presumably to try and stop any patterns to their answers, leaving them each to comment whenever they reached one they found particularly amusing, daring each other to be as honest as possible.

Of course there was plenty that she wasn’t ready to be entirely honest with herself about, let alone Ethan or some faceless dataset. And one statement in particular so far had left her hand hovering over the mouse when it appeared on screen.

‘I am sexually/romantically attracted to people of the same sex’  

Yeah, fuck that.

There were some sorts of honesty Aoife really wasn’t made for. No matter what her search history might suggest or any disclaimers warned her about. And the denial she’d given with a click was particularly emphatic before she’d quickly moved on, practically running away down the page until she found something else to distract her.

“Hah! You are so fucked when you get to this one,” she laughed, before putting on the mockingly over-officious voice she’d adopted for reading them in. “‘I would say I masturbate frequently during an average week.’”

There was a wry smile from the video feed of Ethan. “And you’re wondering why I keep trying to talk about music? You’re sure we can’t go back to how terrible your taste is?”

Aoife reached down next to her desk and fetched the final beer from the box she had stashed there. The can cracked open with a hiss, and she looked over her shoulder in the direction of her hastily made bed, and the Bulbasaur plush that resided by her pillow. She’d taken to saluting the stuffed toy with each new drink over the last few days, as if she could convince herself she was sharing her company with it rather than simply drinking alone. And as she did so, it was hard not to notice the electric pink vibrator that had ended up lying on the bed alongside it. She was hardly one to give Ethan a hard time. Sipping her beer, she turned back to the question, and quietly moved the slider most of the way towards the end of the line.

“I find the idea of my romantic partners having intimate body piercings, ie. nipples and genitals, to be sexually gratifying,” Ethan read his next question with more than a little incredulity. “Who the hell chose how they were going to word these? It’s like they’re trying to be polite and just making it weirder.”

The question was enough for Aoife to suddenly become over-aware of her own nipple rings, sensitive beneath her clothes. She’d got them done after breaking up with her last boyfriend, a final confidence boosting act of defiance, knowing how much he’d have liked to see them and that he never would.

“So, what’s the answer,” she asked, knowing any sudden hesitation on her part would only risk drawing more attention to herself on that particular point.

Ethan tried to play things cool, but failed entirely to hide his embarrassment as he made his own bid for understatement. “Well…I mean, I guess…it depends who’s wearing them.”

He couldn’t have been much more obvious with his answer if he’d come outright and stated his appreciation, but what Aoife hadn’t expected was the warm kick of her own arousal as a result. She cursed inwardly, realising she was playing with fire, and did her best not to let her thoughts daydream about what he’d think of hers. For a second she considered teasing him with the knowledge of her own, wondering if he’d ask for proof or if he’d be English and awkward about it. But she quickly chickened out and hid behind a swig of her beer, deciding she could take her cowardice out on her vibrator later.

“Riiiiight. You know if you want to try again and see if you can hide that better, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you the first time.”

“Can I just pass instead?”

“The questionnaire said no skips, so no, you absolutely cannot.”

A middle finger appeared in the centre of Ethan’s cam feed, causing Aoife to laugh, deciding to let him off the hook and simply take the win. Instead she went back to looking for questions of her own to share. Before she could find any however, he spoke again, although his voice was more thoughtful this time.

“You said you put ‘single,’ back where it was asking for your personal details, right?”

Aoife hesitated, trying to puzzle out the direction he was about to take things. “Yeah? Why?” If there was one thing she hated talking about with him it was relationship statuses, sure in her own knowledge that her interest wasn’t going to be reciprocated, and that any conversation was just going to shine a spotlight on unwanted feelings.

“I dunno. I can’t shake that I’m missing the point of all this and why it’s called a ‘Compatibility Survey.’ Like, compatible with what?”

Mentally, Aoife cursed at him and the unease that had suddenly appeared. Why did he always have to be an asshole and make so much sense? They weren’t being given a huge choice on cooperating with things, so why couldn’t he have left the weirdness feeling fun rather than uncomfortable? Her frustration built, and she tried to convince herself that she wasn’t somewhere feeling over-exposed. “You’re over thinking things. Like you said, it’s probably just some shady research project Palisade are getting kickbacks for being involved with.”

The suspicion still felt the most plausible, the only reason she could think of for any of this was some social sciences bullshit with them as the guinea pigs, and her opinion of Palisade certainly wasn’t high enough not to put it past them.

“Yeah but-”

He started again, but she cut him off. “Besides, if you’re not single, then who would you put down?”

Instantly, Aoife regretted the question. Was there someone he wanted to put there? There was a pause that went on just slightly too long, and she filled it with her anxiety, waiting to hear how he must have been messaging with the woman from the government, Evie. Or that there was someone back home he had feelings for. Not that she could blame him if it was the former, she’d go weak at the knees for someone like that too. Evie was everything Aoife thought she wasn’t, and it was just a matter of hearing Ethan say her name.

Eventually Ethan frowned. “...yeah, you’re right, never mind. I am overthinking this.”

It went quiet, the song the only sound still coming through her headphones, the energy of the synth beats suddenly feeling off kilter as it built to the belated drop Ethan had complained about.

‘Will you meet me more than halfway up?’

She could just be honest and say how she felt. But that was another sort of honesty Aoife wasn’t made for. Instead, she simply fought the urge to sulk, and skipped forward to the next track.