Wispy Eve

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

***

I'm Ashley and I'm a hacker. Wait, wait! I'm on the side of the good guys! I work at a large national bank and I am part of a large team to combat cyber thieves. There are oodles of such thieves. It's a major problem both for banks and of course the government, for universities, for insurance companies and basically for companies in general, large and small.

The climate at work for my team is what you might imagine. Hackers are predominantly male and not the kind of guy a girl would want to date if said girl were into men who smell nice, do not have huge guts, enjoy talking about something besides work or sports, and don't think the dream date is to play video games together.

I do admit I enjoy video games. I take as my persona a little wisp of a woman and from time to time I lose battles with giant trolls or orcs and I end up getting raped by them once I've lost. This makes the stakes high, unless this little wisp of a woman enjoys the fantasy of being raped and likes to live it out on line, where there are no actual consequences to one's physical person, other than the occasional case of wet panties.

My character has been raped by all sorts of other players. It's kinky, and it's harmless because none of the men know who I am. Sometimes I even get off on it. I do not play the games with my co-workers, however, but with anonymous players on the web. It's obvious, but perhaps I should say it anyway. I have absolutely no desire to get raped! It's just a fantasy I indulge in through video games.

My character always has the same simple name, Wispy Eve. It's not very imaginative, but it has a significance stemming from my personal history, and I like it.

It had been a hard week. The hacker attacks were getting better and better and we had to get better at our defenses even faster. The stakes were high. I was exhausted. I went home to my tiny studio apartment deep in the East Village in New York. The north south avenues run in numbers from 1 to 12, going from East to West, but there's a bulge on the east side of Manhattan at the level of the East Village, so there we also have Avenues A, B, C and D on the far east side, right up to the East River. This neighborhood is far from the subway lines. That makes it less desirable and that in turn makes it more affordable as a place to live and to play.

The locals joke that A is for Alert, B is for Beware, C is for Caution, and D is for Danger. My studio apartment was on Avenue B. I was accustomed to being beware, since I was usually a single young woman walking around alone, but nothing ever happened and I thought the fear mongers overstated the situation.

Well, it was Friday night, I was tired, alone and depressed, so I lost my work clothes, took a nice, hot bath, and I donned my slutty Friday night bar attire. I grew up on the South Shore of Long Island, where we girls come down the birth canal wearing mesh tights, purple eyeshadow, green lipstick, and body jewelry galore. I'm not a fan of tattoos nor body jewelry, but of course I had a few holes in my ears and filled them with some nice earrings I had bought at a punk jewelry store near Second Avenue.

I left my little home and walked from Avenue B to Avenue A to First Avenue and then began to check out the bar scene. It was early, 7:30PM, and most places were dead. I liked the bars dead. When they got lively typically I would move on. I went to my regular bar where the barkeep John knows me and he had my mojito on the counter waiting for me by the time I was able to sidle up. I gave a smile of thanks and we kissed each other's cheeks. He's a touchy-feely kind of guy. He's harmless and I think girls like me giving him kisses on the cheeks is about all the sex he ever gets.

I drank my mojito and nobody hit on me. I drank my second one, and alas I was still ignored. Recently I had been doing a study. Sometimes I would show off my boobs via a push-up bra paired with a low-cut blouse. That gives me memorable cleavage. Other times I would show off my ass with yoga pants and no panties. The yoga pants were skin tight and see through in bright light, making me feel sexy. I was safe in the dim light of bars.

A third option was showing off my legs. I'm small but my legs are shapely and my thighs are thin. I would wear a micro mini skater skirt and either no panties, or highly skimpy panties, or a thong.

For all three options I had been timing how long it took for a man to hit on me. I was comparing the three using the times to hit on me as my data set. I also recorded combining the options such as boobs plus ass, or boobs plus legs.

I found that the legs men were winning over the boobs fanatics who in turn were winning over the ass men. Boobs plus legs was a runaway winner. The night in question was a boobs plus ass night so I was not too shocked that it was taking a little while for someone to hit on me. My legs were covered in thin tights and no panty lines were visible. I think the men were typically driven nuts by the ambiguity of whether or not I was actually wearing panties, a thong, or what? The idea of wearing nothing at all underneath my yoga pants was so outrageous I imagine that it turned on some men?

A few men, not bad looking, were clustered at the bar a few feet away from me. They were discussing video games in quite an animated fashion. I have good hearing and am reasonably good at eavesdropping.

Their conversation was predictable. I could even script it out in my head after a few minutes. I seemed to know which guy would say which thing next. This went on for a while but I never tire of eavesdropping it seems, especially when the conversation is about online video games.

After about twenty minutes of this, midway through my third mojito, I heard one of the men say 'Wispy Eve.' Holy shit, that's my name for my online character! They were talking about me! Here is a reproduction of the conversation. I'll call them Man 1, Man 2, and Man 3.

Man 1: Have you ever seen Wispy Eve get raped?

Man 2: No, it does not seem to happen when I'm on line, but I've heard about it. I saw a screen shot picture of her nude on one of the discussion sites. She's hot!

Man 3: What have you heard?

Man 2: That the tough little woman puts up a good fight, but she sometimes loses and then the victor takes the spoils by nailing her good. I heard she's worth the effort. She's got a hot body and she's a great lay.

Man 3: Oh yeah?

Man 2: Yeah. Just seeing her naked body is something else! Whoever drew the character did a good job. The little wench moans up a storm while he takes her and once he's filled her up with his stuff she just lies there letting it ooze out onto the garbage pile where he fucked her. It's a sight to behold.

Man 1: Yeah mostly but I hear that one time when he was done, she jumped up, nude, and sliced his head off.

Man 2: I heard she sliced his thing off. (Groans from the other men.)

Man 1: Yeah, the word is out. Now before she's raped the guy should always make sure her sword is nowhere to be found, you know?

Man 3: Sounds smart. The bitch is hot.

Needless to say, I was highly amused. I felt like going over to say hello and then tell them I'm Wispy Eve but that was a bad idea for five reasons. First of all, my identity is top secret and I'm keeping it that way. Second, I did not want to give anyone the idea that he could rape me under any circumstances! Third, Wispy Eve's body is close to being an exact copy of mine, since I needed a template to design my character and I used myself. Fourth, they probably would not have believed me. Put in their shoes, I would not have believed me. Fifth and last, I did not want to admit I had been eavesdropping.

The effect of the experience, though, was that it put me in a good mood. My Friday night funk had been washed away via the three mojitos and the eavesdropping. Who knew anyone ever even thought about my online character? It was exciting that at least three men in one of my favorite bars thought my online character was hot.

Seriously cheered up I took myself to the movies. I walked over to the Regal at Union Square and sat through the latest Marvel Comics movie. It was great, and when I left at 10:30pm I walked with a spring in my step over to the same First Avenue Bar. It was now much more crowded. I still had on my slutty bar scene attire of course, and I was checked out by every man there as I sauntered over to the bar. Once again, a mojito was all set up on the bar, waiting for me. I gave John the barkeep the requisite kisses and thanked him for the delicious mojito.

"How do you know it's delicious? You have not tasted it yet," a deep male voice at the bar said to me. The owner of the voice was one of the three men who had earlier been discussing Wispy Eve. He was now seriously inebriated.

In the past when something like that happens I take my drink and go to a table to get away from a drunk guy. This time I did not. My immediate rationalization was that all the tables were full. That was true enough, but the real reason was that he knew of Wispy Eve, thought she was hot, and I kind of secretly liked that.

I answered his question saying, "John always makes me great mojitos. I'm confident this one is as good as all his past delicious mojitos."

"I like a good mojito," he said. "Can I have a little taste?"

I had not yet even tasted it, but I handed the drink to him to taste. He drank the whole drink!

"That was good, little lady. Can I buy you another?" he said.

"Well I guess so, since you just drank all of mine!" I said.

"Oops. Sorry, I guess I did," he said. He added, "Where's your posse?"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't you hot women always come to bars in groups? You know, posses?" he said.

I was glad he considered me hot, but he was much too drunk for my taste. "Maybe so, but not me. I'm a solo kind of girl. You here alone too?" I asked, wondering where his posse was that consisted of the other two guys.

"I came with friends, but we got in a fight and they left," he said.

"I'm sorry to hear that. What did you fight about?" I asked.

"Do you know what a video game is? On line, I mean," he said.

"Uh, yes, you could say that. I'm a gamer myself," I said.

His whole face lit up and he smiled broadly. He looked handsome when he smiled. "Oh, that's great! Maybe you'll understand, then. We were arguing about a character on line. Maybe you know of her?"

"Maybe I do. Who is she?" I asked.

"Wispy Eve," he said.

"What did you argue about?" I asked, trying to hide my excitement as well as my interest.

"Well, we all agreed she is probably the character of a woman," he said. "That is, the real person using her as her avatar is probably a woman."

"Seems reasonable. I agree," I said.

"We all agree too she is hot," he said. "Oh, excuse me, that's probably not polite to say to a pretty woman such as yourself," he said, looking straight at my boobs.

So, he had noticed. I was beginning to wonder. As I mentioned earlier my theory is that different men like different parts of women. There are legs men, ass men, hourglass figure men, boobs fanatics, and for some it's all about a girl's face, eyes, and hair. That particular night I was going for the boobs fanatics, with a push-up bra and a low-cut blouse. Sometimes I have a combination look, such as a low-cut blouse and push-up bra combined with a micro mini skater skirt. Tonight though it was all about my boobs, although my tights could have also appealed to some ass men. My bar companion had finally taken the look down my blouse.

"That's okay. We're both gamers here," I said. His smile got brighter.

"Hey, you're a woman and all, maybe you have an idea how she thinks?"

"That's a pretty general question," I said.

He took a deep breath and let his thoughts fly, "Oh, I'm sorry. Well you know Wispy Eve is a great warrior, right? I mean she really is dynamite personified?" I nodded, smiling. "Yes, well, every so often nevertheless she loses a battle, and since she's a girl and all, well...uh, you know,..."

"The victor rips off her armor, her clothes, and her lingerie, and he rapes her, right? Is that what you're trying to say?" I helped him out.

"Yes, thank you," he said. "When she even wears lingerie, that is. She often goes without panties."

"Naughty girl," I said. Silence ensued. He was looking right at my crotch, wondering I guess if I had panties on. Usually men try to be a little bit subtler! Well, he's drunk.

"Well, what about it?" I asked.

"My friends and I were fighting about whether or not she likes it?" he asked. I leaned forward to hear him better over the noise of the bar and he took another look down my blouse. I ignored his down looks and he continued setting a new record for long looks down my blouse. I began to wonder if he had never seen a woman dressed slutty before?

Truth be told the entire point, at least for me, of wearing a push-up bra together with a low cut blouse is precisely to entice men to take the look down my blouse. It would be passive-aggressive, or some such thing, to then get annoyed when they took the look. It would be as if I were fishing with a worm on a hook and then got annoyed when a fish took the bite going after the worm. Of course, the fish also gets the hook, poor thing, and in the case of my blouse sometimes the down looker is rewarded with a wild night with me. Usually not, but it's been known to happen.

"Wispy Eve seems always to have tried to kill or mutilate her rapist, so that would argue for no, she does not like it," I said, answering his question.

"We weren't arguing about Wispy Eve herself, but about the woman behind Wispy Eve. The woman who created her," he said.

"Oh, well, that's easy. There's not a woman in the world who would enjoy being raped. I'm sure of that. That does not mean, however, that a woman might not have an erotic fantasy that she's being raped. Does that answer your question?" I said.

"I wish you had been here. That was my position. Hey how about yourself?" he asked.

"I don't understand," I said, which seemed to be happening often with this guy. "By the way, I'm Ashley. Who are you?"

"Mark Brownschilde," he said, "Pleased to meet you," and he held out his hand. As I took it he said, "God, Ashley you have great boobs. You remind me of Wispy Eve. She has an outfit just like yours."

"Thanks, Mark. You look good yourself," he said. I know I should have been grossed out by a stranger telling me I have 'great boobs,' but that's what I was going for, and why be annoyed by one's own success?

Mark and I got to talking and since it was loud in the bar and he had enough to drink, we adjourned to a nearby coffee shop. People tend not to drink too much coffee late at night, so we found an open table and sat down. It was crowded because first of all it's New York and there are just lots of people everywhere at all times, and second it has free WIFI. We were the only table occupants who did not have an open computer.

As we talked, I began to like Mark more and more.

Around midnight the coffee shop closed. "I don't want this wonderful evening to end already," Mark said, and he gave another quick look down my blouse. I have some very nice cleavage I admit, but at this point he should have already had it memorized!

It was a warm evening, and we were talking on the sidewalk, when suddenly he asked, "Ashley, can you turn around slowly for me?" I was wearing yoga pants that hugged my ass and of course my legs too, with a C string thong underneath to prevent any panty lines from spoiling the view. Wispy Eve did not even wear a thong. She was always commando down below. Wispy Eve was one hot to trot on line character. For me, she was just "Wisp."

I liked the name Wisp. It had so many connotations, such as stealthy or sneaky in a ninja like fashion, and also there was the acronym WISP ('Woman In her Sexual Prime'), which described me fairly well.

Obeying Mark's request, I slowly turned around. Mark was loving the view.

"Jesus, Ashley, you have the exact same body as Wispy Eve, did you ever realize that?!"

"No," I lied.

"I wonder if your naked body would be the same as hers, too?" Mark mused, something he never would have said aloud in front of me had he not been so drunk. I guess the coffee had not helped. I ignored his off-color remark, even if I thought that this one, unlike telling me I had great boobs, was in fact kind of gross.

"You know, one of Wispy Eve's boobs hangs a slight bit lower than the other," Mark said.

"That's common with women," I said.

"Yes, I know. I've studied pictures of boobs as much as the next guy. It's not common though among virtual characters. And have you noticed her areolas?"

Uh-oh, I thought.

"What about them?" I asked, playing along, hoping he had not noticed.

"There's a tiny scar on her right boob's areola. It's barely noticeable," Mark said. Damn, he noticed. I had modeled even that tiny detail after myself.

I stupidly tipped my hand when I said, "Don't you mean her left boob's areola?" It's a good thing Mark was so drunk. He did not pick up on how well I knew the character and in particular the details of her nude body.

"Whatever," Mark replied. "Hey, I have a bunch of screen shots of her naked body," he said. He pulled out his phone and showed me several pictures. I of course had created them for my online character and yes, I had used my own body as my template. "I'll bet your body is the same."

"This conversation is inappropriate Mark," I said, even if I was highly amused. I wondered how far he would take this? He seemed almost panting at the idea of comparing my nude body to that of the Wispy Eve character.

"I'll bet it's the same. $500 says it's the same," Mark said.

"What?" I asked. My incredulity had limited my capacity to speak.

"I want to compare your body with Wispy Eve's. I think you're a dead ringer. I'll give you $500 for the comparison."

"You're joking, or you're drunk," I said. I was a little drunk too, but I felt that I still had my wits about me.

"No, I'm serious! What do you say, Ashley?"

"Really? Five hundred dollars?" I pretended to be interested in the money. In truth, I was just having fun.

"Yes, it's a deal then!" Mark said, jumping to a conclusion the way only a drunk man can. We went to a nearby ATM to get the cash for the bet.

"How are we going to settle this bet? Do you have any pictures of your nude body on your phone?" he asked.

"You're willing to give me $500 just to see nude pictures of me?" I said, giggling for the first time in days.

He looked at me, and he looked down my blouse yet again. "Hell, Ashley, I'd give you $1,000 just to see your nude body in the flesh and be able to give you a kiss," he said.

I had begun to like Mark just from our conversation as well as both his appreciation of Wispy Eve (my creation) and my boobs. Now however seeing how casual he was about large sums of money, I began to think he was far from being poor. Hey, what can I say? That appeals to some women and I confess, I am one of them.

"You're on," I said, and I thought Mark was going to faint. To keep him standing, I said, here's an advance on the kiss. I leaned against him pushing my boobs into his chest and cocked my head up in a classic 'kiss me' position. I closed my eyes. Mark had a good six inches of height on me, but he leaned forward and bent his head and kissed me gently on the lips.

"Let's try again with a little more passion," I said. This time Mark gave me a nice long and reasonably good kiss. It was enough to get my C string thong a little wet.

We visited the ATM again so Mark could take out another $500. I had no intention of taking his money, but I wanted to increase the drama. When he had put the money in his wallet I said, "My place is not far from here. If you really want to pay $1,000 to see my nude body, we could go there?"