In our first round of email exchanges, what began as a casual over-the-Internet contact, that he’d initiated, had shortly developed into mildly flirtatious chit-chat. After no word from him for months, our second bout, brought on by me, had taken another turn; we touched on topics more serious in tone -- mainly concerning Law Enforcement, our respective opinions now interspersed with nothing short of blatant displays of risqué coyness.
The increase in our sexual harmonics hadn’t escaped my awareness, nor had I missed his revealing to me the identity of Virginia State Police Lt. Craig Worsham. My prurient counterpart had surmised correctly about the latter though: I did have Worsham’s name previously. Hello, these uniformed guys wear name pins! If I was able to snap his picture, I was able to read his tag. Duh.
When I’d published Worsham’s photograph and my inquiry on I HeArTE JADE, I had to be sure I knew the name of the distinguished Lieutenant already because I’d used the entry purely with the intention of garnering new sources. If someone gave me the wrong name, obviously he or she wouldn’t be a reliable informant. But if they forked over the right one… It was a sneaky diminutive plan which much to my delight has been successful -- to this day I exploit the post in the same way. Tricks of the trade.
It wasn’t like “DJ Vox” was supplying state secrets or anything, but his willingness to share such details with me, a person branded -- erroneously, I might add -- “anti-cop,” was remarkable.
My observation about “DJ Vox” that captured and thrilled me the best was his transparent own fishing expedition. Between his inquisitiveness regarding the policeman I’d recently blogged about my surreptitious get-together with, and his elaborate fictitious mental analysis of how an encounter with me and him would go, I suspected he was earnestly deliberating a real-life rendezvous. The idea made me absolutely ecstatic. I found him so amazing, being captivated was unavoidable.
The online letters coming from my provocative stranger were suddenly arriving at my Inbox rapid fire. Not only were two and three or more notes appearing in succession, they were being sent under multiple and separate titles too.
It was June, 28, 2010. Roughly three weeks had passed since we’d broken our interlude.
He and I would be standing face-to-face just seven days later.
