Love and Apps Ch. 00-01

This is the prologue and first chapter of (hopefully, in time) a much longer (and eventually sexier) story. Feedback is, of course, greatly appreciated, but be gentle though. It's my first time.

*****

It had all started so innocuously. Like countless conversations that had popped up, this one had started with the simplest sentence. He pondered to himself, what the difference was with this one. With an air of arrogance, even superiority, he had taken to disregarding these identical chat openers. The irony being, of course, that he was, himself, guilty of the same approach, far more frequently than he could ever care, or dare, to concede.

"Hi! How are you?"

Still in bed, still revelling in the afterglow of an intense orgasm that had left him quivering from head to toe, he glanced down at the lithe, sleeping form next to him. Yes, it was a conversation that had started like all the others. No, at first glance there hadn't been anything particularly different that drew him to her. Yet regardless, circumstances had worked in their favour.

He stretched out a hand to her, and gently traced down her spine, starting with a fingertip at the nape of her neck and drawing a freeform line that ran all the way down. He caressed her back, slid his fingers across her firm, perfectly round cheeks, all the while marveling at the flawlessness of her skin; the soft curves that accentuated her breasts, that remained just out of reach as she faced away from him, and the hips and ass he had not so long ago grabbed with all the force he could while they fucked.

Yes, it had all started so innocuously. "But...", he mused to himself, "...maybe I should start saying hi back more often."

*****

The whole arrangement had stuttered into life months before. Not long out of university, several thoughts had struck him as he had stood there, fake smile plastered across his face for the photographers for the benefit of the precious, unforgettable memories graduation would bring.

A hot July day had not really seemed the right time to be wearing these ceremonial robes, or the expensive suit he had bought for the occasion that ended up obscured beneath the robes anyway. With his classmates around him, the same "are we fucking done here already?" grins on their sweat-streaked faces, he felt sure that the very same thoughts hitting him were hitting them too.

"Fuck. I have to make a life for myself now. Where in the ever-loving fuck do I start now?"

An idea had begun to form in his head way before graduation. It had been somewhat buried, with the advent of what felt like literally every university deadline at once.

Dissertation? Those other 4 essays of 5000 words each? More student finance paperwork? Have you remembered to buy tickets for your graduation yet (because we're your parents and we'd love to come, oh and I think it would be lovely if you got some for your grandparents too wouldn't it)? Have you made sure to reserve some graduation robes yet? What are the dates again? His head was a mess.

So when that dreaded final question had started to surface (So, what are you doing after you graduate?), he initially forgot the plans he had started to build so long before. The thing that really triggered the recall was hearing the same question posed to his classmates and hearing the non-committal (and just plain dull) responses.

"Well, I'll probably move back in at home, try to find a job somewhere, hopefully move out after I save up some money, but we'll see, right?"

The nervous laughter always followed.

And in his head, the thought of following suit just screamed FUCK NO back at him, and it all came back. Just a trickle at first, but slowly growing into this firm, strong desire, to get out and be free. And so it was settled. He graduated, with enough savings to find a place to himself, numbed his mind for a few months working at a forgettable part-time job until he had enough money saved and booked his escape.

Despite never having envisioned himself in the field, one quick Skype interview and a cheap online course later he found himself qualified to teach English abroad. It seemed even quicker from the day he walked out of his last job at home and onto the first of several planes, to his arrival halfway around the world. Dazed, after well over 24 hours' travel, not enough sleep, and far too much coffee, he remembered very little of being met at the airport by someone who introduced themselves as 'the school's admin assistant' (their name never even learned, let alone forgotten), or being ferried to his solitary, one bed apartment in the middle of an un-pronounceable district of his new home city.

The work started well. It was a new challenge, one which he threw himself into with all he could. Any time he struggled, a mantra was created and repeated. "You're doing a better bloody job than everyone back home. You're out, you're making something of yourself." And so he continued, with his head down, working and working, going back to a lonely apartment, before rinsing and repeating. He even started to forget the last time he had been physically intimate with someone, anyone, other than himself. Even porn had started to become boring. All the different categories began blurring together, nondescript girls being pounded by nondescript monster cocks and taking nondescript huge loads in one or more holes.

Why dating apps had never come to mind was really a surprise, looking back. There were seemingly hundreds.