A Sexy Stranger

On meeting Kate Granger

The thing with fiction is I can distort my reality. I know an erotic writer by the name of

Kate Granger

. She travels the world, I’m not sure where she is now. For the past few months, I imagined I could have meet her, in Rosslyn, Virginia (and it’s no coincidence that the largest US defense companies have an office there.) Did I meet her?

There is something erotic about meeting a stranger you thought you knew well. I've been working with Kate for 18 months. She is an incredibly talented writer. There is something primal about Kate, an urge to expulse her desires, to make them come true. Start reading her, she is so prolific that legend says she never sleeps.

On meeting a sexy stranger

So, did I meet her? That’s all the point of the 4 extracts below. About this tipping moment, when you are about to meet a dangerous, highly desirable person. That exciting and devilish alliance of curiosity. It can be a story of love, and death. A passionate encounter, or just espionage. Or both. Defense is the best attack.

A burner phone is all what you need

4 fragments of one moment

I replied, "We can meet if you want. I don't think I'm a threat.” Then I realized that's what a killer would say. Surprisingly, she said yes. And I began to visualize her death. A kinky one. Surely twisted, but no, I'm not a killer. Absolutely not a threat. I texted okay and headed out. I needed some fresh air.

I've made mistakes. Many mistakes. How come I don't pay, for everything. Do I have to do more? Unbelievable. How gullible they are. I can't help but keep going. At this level, it's an invitation. I can't refuse, not in my ethics — also, by good education. So I texted "Okay" disguising my guilt in brevity.

I read her answer, “Should we meet? Shall we risk to meet in real life?” Should we? If I kill you, will you blame me, will you remember me? Death is for the living, no one knows he’s dead. No. No, I am not a killer, but not a lover either. I texted back “We can meet if you want.” and bought the .22 caliber.

I smirked. This wasn't my first rodeo. I saw it coming. My contact was ready. Ready to move on. Ready enough to meet me. They are gullible. I am conceited. This was just a repeat of what had happened before. The first time, I prepared carefully. Not this time, not anymore. I texted “Okay” and went out.

Should I meet

Kate Granger

?

The Walther .22 caliber I finally bought

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I would love to read your own interpretation of the same scene. If you're feeling inspired, feel free to write your own excerpt, describing how you imagined that particular moment. Talk to you soon. Very soon!

Love always,
Sissi