How to Tell a Lie (3 page)
She stared at him, blinking a few times in disbelief. “Are you for real?”
“As far as I know,” he quipped. “Why? Is that not the norm?”
Allison realized, as she continued to look at him, that his eyes were quite a remarkable shade of green. The color of jade, she thought, that same pale, cool green.
“Y-you know it isn’t the norm,” she finally stammered out. The whole evening was really too surreal; it was starting to affect her reasoning.
“Your flamingo is trembling.” The look he was giving her now was acute, penetrating…sexy. Allison cleared her throat and hoped the light in the restaurant was dim enough to hide the blush she felt rising from her neck to her forehead.
“It’s hypoglycemic. It needs food.” She was conscious of her own signals, looking downward to avoid eye contact, her eyes flicking to one side as she thought of what to say. Lying. Her body was telegraphing her lie despite her keen self-awareness, and despite her best efforts to stop. But what was she lying about, she wondered? The flamingo was a distraction, a joke, she wasn’t really lying about that. But of course the flamingo wasn’t really the one trembling, and she knew that too. Her attempt to sideline his flirting with a joke,
that
was the lie. She didn’t really want to divert him. She was interested. Her body was interested even if her mind told her it was a horrible idea to get involved with anyone right now.
“We should definitely feed it then. It’s going to need its strength if it’s going to go raiding later tonight,” he countered blandly, obviously backing off, giving her space. Time. She almost resented it. His perception was attractive in itself, and it only served to coax her closer. He put his glasses back on and rolled his shoulders, settling into his chair.
“I don’t know if that’s wise.”
He looked up, instantly wary. “Why not?”
She felt caught on his gaze, pinned there. He looked at her over his glasses, so she could still see his eyes. They were entrancing. Heat started to pool between her thighs, covered by the napkin she placed in her lap as if she needed to hide her reaction. Horny, she recognized all too well. Horny, because James had done nothing to help ease her longing. He had left her wanting more than she had desired in the first place. Making love—having sex—with James had been like discovering a lie of omission. She had become more aware of things because of their pronounced absence.
A sudden inspiration struck Allison. “I take it back. It’s probably a great idea. I’ll be there. Oh look, the food’s here.”
He looked at her curiously before digging in, the lure of the food winning out over the lure of trying to figure her out. For that moment, at least. Allison was relieved. She thought her plan was foolproof. She had already lost him as a research subject. But perhaps the origins of her newfound knowledge about this all-too-interesting colleague could form the very basis of a distance between them. She would be a game girl, a virtual friend. She could interact with him online, but that didn’t mean they had to be even remotely friendly in person. She could be as intriguing as she wanted to be, as long as she was only intriguing in chat.
In real life she would simply be what she knew herself to be—chilly, bookish, nerdy. Pretty by many people’s standards, or so she had been told since she was a child, but in her own mind ultimately too dull for her looks to ever compensate for her personality. And then she would be safe from any possibility of hurt, because there would never be any connection so strong that breaking it could damage her.
If Seth noticed her withdrawal, he was too polite to comment on it. He walked her back to her office through the sultry evening, making occasional remarks to which she gave fairly short replies, and waited while she gathered her laptop case and some notes. Then he escorted her to her car and reminded her to “meet” him in-game at the capital city, by the auction house, at about nine-fifteen. It would give them time to buy gear before the start of the dungeon raid that was scheduled for ten o’clock.
Allison watched in the rearview mirror, and noted that Seth stood at the curb and waited for her car to start and her lights to come on before he stepped away. He didn’t turn and start walking until she had pulled out from the parking space and started off toward the street. It was chivalrous, she thought. Then she cursed herself for caring that he was chivalrous. Because it didn’t matter. He would be a stranger in every way that mattered.
But online…online, they could play. And online, as Allison’s research showed her more clearly all the time, it was almost impossible to know if a bright, articulate, capable writer was telling the truth or lying. She, more than anyone, knew how to lie in writing and not get caught. And on the computer, her treacherous body and truthful eyes couldn’t give her away. She tried not to answer the question that immediately rose in her mind.
To whom would she be lying? To Seth…or to herself?
Chapter Two
Allison’s theory, which she had been working on since graduate school, was that just as some people were better at lying and lied more easily in person, another type of person was more likely to get away with lying in online written conversations.
The more control the liar had over conventional standard written English usage, the more he or she was likely to construct a written lie that would be plausible to the reader. Age and education lent themselves to capable lying online, which had certain implications for the success of middle-aged sexual predators, for instance. Isolating the potential markers of written lies during real-time chat discussions, which was also part of her research, grew harder and harder as the sophistication of the liar increased. It was a tricky problem, a field with a lot of gray area, and a fascinating psychological underworld for Allison to roam around in.
She had been at it for three years now. She couldn’t really remember what had started her into the realm of online games, only that the in-game chat turned out to be such a rich source of lies, she really couldn’t resist. Then the game itself had hooked her, and now she found herself with a top-level snow elf healer named after a set of vowels, a guild full of “friends” she played with regularly and an endless stream of case studies.
But she didn’t usually play at night or get involved in the often lengthy and complex high-level dungeon raids. It was for work, and she tried to keep it that way. Now, relaxing in the tub and replaying the dinner conversation in her mind, automatically searching for untruths but finding none on Seth’s part, she debated whether to participate in the raid. It would be fun, of course. But it might also be nerve-racking. And what if Seth didn’t want to leave it at just playing the game?
Allison’s mind flicked back to the look on his face, so direct, so amused.
Your flamingo is trembling.
A lot more than the damn flamingo had been trembling at that moment. Even now, a remembered flush swept from her belly down to her thighs, and Allison sighed at the heat. Her head tipped back against the edge of the old claw-foot tub and her fingers strayed downward automatically, finding the source of the warmth, tracing along the seam of her pussy and flicking lazily at her clit. When she realized what she was doing, she snatched her hand away and sat up abruptly, cursing under her breath. No time for that now, she had a raid to prepare for.
A muted bleep from the direction of the living room told her she had new email. Still breathing heavily, still cursing at herself, Allison scrubbed herself dry with a towel and put on her bathrobe. As she walked into the living room, she pulled the clip from her hair and let the silky strands tumble loose, waves of dark chocolate brown contrasting sharply against the snowy white terrycloth of the robe. She knelt in front of the coffee table and clicked the mail icon, and somehow was not surprised to see that the new message was from the university mail account of
Seth.Brantley
.
Hey there, Princess of the Vowels,
I realize that the whole face-to-face thing this evening freaked you out. Me too, actually, but I got over it once I was sure you really weren’t a student. I hope you’ll still come and play silly games with me and my friends, since we really do need a healer and may not be able to raid tonight without one. Usually
Marielle
Chan from the math department is our healer, but she’s at a conference this weekend.
We use voice chat during these weekend events. If you decide to come along, look for the server information in the guild message when you log in. You’ll need a microphone to talk, but even if you don’t have one, you can still listen in. Helps with coordinating our attacks.
I’ll be in front of the auction house at 9:15, our time. We’ll deck you out sufficiently to get you through this raid. My brother Drew does enchanting so he can beef up your gear a bit more too. Assuming you come along. Which I hope you do.
See you tonight,
Notmyrealname
P.S. I find your hair flamingo enchanting, by the way. Especially when it’s trembling.
* * * * *
The dungeon raid went well, fast-paced and thrilling. Allison hadn’t always succeeded in her efforts to heal the members of the group, but none of them seemed to mind that much. They didn’t seem to take the game as seriously as most of the players she was familiar with. She hadn’t been the only last-minute substitute and the other two new group members ended up dying during almost every big fight, but everybody seemed fairly cheerful about it.
Allison wasn’t used to doing raids, where an organized group went into a dungeon together, each player performing a pre-determined role for the benefit of the team. Dungeons were more difficult than everyday play because they were designed to challenge experienced groups. It was an aspect of the game she hadn’t really explored because she typically played alone or with whoever was online and wanted to group up. Now, as she rearranged her character’s inventory while the post-game conversation spun out, she was still stunned at the quality of some of her share of the loot from the evening’s exploits.
Voice chat was another unexpected pleasure. Hearing the other players—which she normally never would, given her line of study—lent an entirely new twist to the game. More immediacy, and also more levity. She learned many in-jokes during the course of the evening.
Players started to sign off, or drift off to other areas within the game world to complete quests. Some kept their microphones on, others turned voice chat off, though they stayed in the game. It was evident they all had clear agendas for after the raid. Allison felt strangely let down after the camaraderie of the past few hours. She decided to log off, and almost missed the flashing pink letters of the personal message Seth had just sent. She lifted her finger from the escape key just in time and glanced at the chat dialogue.
Notmyrealname
: Hey, don’t go anywhere.
She shifted her legs, stretching them out to the coffee table and repositioning her laptop. Over the speaker, she heard Drew tell a joke. Something about finding something unexpected in the dungeon. She couldn’t hear the punch line over the static as another of the players signed off, but the rest of the crowd was cackling. To reduce the static she tried switching her microphone off, leaving just the speakers on.
“Dude, that’s so disgusting it’s awesome,” somebody snickered. It sounded like the one they called Clyde, another of the large crew who were lecturers at a university in California. She thought he was an engineering professor, but couldn’t remember for sure. He sounded nothing like any engineering professor she knew.
“It’s funny because it’s true,” Drew shot back.
“TMI, bro,” Seth contributed.
“Don’t knock it ’til you try it, my man.”
Notmyrealname
: Drew’s a little…alternative.
Aeiou
: That’s okay. Whatever floats his boat. It is TMI though.
Notmyrealname
: Did you have fun?
Aeiou
: I did. And you were right, it was geeky good fun!
Notmyrealname
: Did you write down everything everybody said?
Aeiou
: ROFL. I cut and paste. I didn’t have time for it tonight though. I should get your student to write me a program to do it automatically somehow. It was tempting. Any liars in the bunch?
Notmyrealname
: I’m not telling, that would take all the sport out of it for you. And render them useless as subjects.
Aeiou
: I really wasn’t taking notes.
Notmyrealname
: I believe you. You were busy keeping Dumb and Dumber alive.
Sheesh
.
Aeiou
: Is it always like that?
Notmyrealname
: No, it’s usually better. You did better than anybody expected, it was those two who were the problem. Well, not a problem exactly. It’s all about the timing, and it’s just harder with new people, getting the group dynamic right. They’ll get there, and so will you. But tonight was enjoyable for other reasons. Did your flamingo finally get over her case of nerves?
More players were signing off. Allison typed a few goodbyes into the group chat window then clicked back to the private conversation.
Aeiou
: She did. She was too busy to be nervous too.
Notmyrealname
: Oh really? Dare I ask what she was busy doing? I can think of myriad uses. All those feathers…
Aeiou
: It’s just a pen!
Notmyrealname
: A likely story. You seem so fond of it, I can’t help but wonder why. The “pen” ruse would be a perfect cover.
