The sender's name on the new message notification read 'TheChatWhisperer.'

The drink in the recipient's hand went airborne.

Shauna, who was still a bit groggy after the intense dream she'd been reluctant to leave, could hardly believe her eyes. Or her luck.

Burton? Is that you?

She was wide awake now and eager to reconnect with the mysterious, supernatural stranger who appeared in her flat from out of thin air only that very evening.

Her mood had been vexed after the uber hot, sublimely fuckable SexyBrit22 proved a no-show for several consecutive days on their chat site. Consequently, at first she was startled and belligerent at the stranger's intrusion. But the dark eyed, attractive man - at least, he looked human - remained calm and deferential.

He introduced himself as the Chat Whisperer.

He called her Miss Shauna (he knew her name, without asking!), and told her she could call him Burton.

Intrigued, she found herself drawn deeper under his spell as their conversation progressed, until she was quite smitten.

Then just as he revealed he would be her personal mentor in the art of sex chat, she suffered the cruel awakening. Thirsty, exhausted and disappointed, she sought refuge in a cold Moxie.

When her screen chimed, she saw hope in a white box. Her nipples hardened with excitement and fought their way through the damp, form fitting t-shirt.

Could it be? Oh Burton, please let it be you!

Ignoring the cola-colored wetness splattering her keyboard from the soda she'd spilled in her momentary shock, Shauna clicked the message link with trembling, equally sloppy hands. She held her breath and waited for the page to load.

Just as her face was starting to turn purple, it did.

As she read, she could hear his soothing baritone in its undefined Crown colony accent so clearly that she glanced around the room, expecting to find his otherworldly handsomeness in a corner she might have missed.

She was alone, except for the soundtrack of his voice, as she read his words:

Dear Miss Shauna,

It was a pleasure to meet and spend time with you.

As I explained during our little talk, I wish to be of some assistance in your future endeavors here. To that end, allow me to offer the following:

You may accept friend requests from FunWithMyDick, 1whackingoodtime, iheart_fucking, and fingerstofapwith. No need to write notes. Each of these members has at least a dozen new adds daily. Wait until your name disappears from their visible activity feed, then simply delete them. No one will be the wiser.

Add Texan4travel, but do not make yourself available yet. Observe him and remain quiet. You will have to weigh his self-centeredness against his creativity. I believe you will make the right decision.

Steer clear of Tonight_we_kiss. The user isn't really a 35-year-old man, but a 300-pound woman old enough to be your grandmother.

You will find FreedomFlyer, getshortyjones, and sailaway2fun to be pleasant company on occasion. Yes, they're players, but they won't make you feel that way.

Handsome69 passes his younger (and better looking) cousin's photos off as his own, and he will never reply to your story comments.

Be sure to block SongOfMyDong, a_bird_in_the_hand, cumsplashedknickers, and charley_horseplay. They are all residents of various correctional facilities and currently serving time for stalking pretty young lasses like you.

While you're at it, block down_underhanded. Rude chap, to say the least - and that's when he's sober.

You'll be wasting your time with chivalrous_dude. He's a decent fellow, but still types by hunt and peck, which explains his minimalist profile bio. You would be waiting until the Mariners win the World Series before you receive your first reply.

Le_Quebecois is not only intelligent, charming and funny, but a true gentleman. I highly recommend him, as he is a close personal friend.

9_inch_Tim's real life nickname is Three Tooth Tris, a fitting moniker he earned during four seasons playing goal for the Oshkosh Otters. The latter also reflects a far more accurate summary of the fellow's personal measurements.

DashingJohn41 has fetishes you are better off not knowing. I implore you to trust me on this.

You may be friends with, but never chat with, anyone who has already chatted with Diva_Venus. Her roleplay skills are phenomenal and her partners will be spoiled rotten. Converse about anything else, but go no further.

As for this SexyBrit22 who has so monopolised your fancy, my dear Miss Shauna, what can I write, that you haven't already considered? First off, yes, he will be back. Please take that as a warning, not as an encouragement.

You've noticed that every time he repeats that platitude about how sexy your mind is and how looks aren't important, he adds a new pair of 40-double-Ds to his Friends roster. I heartily commend you for standing fast in your refusal to satisfy his pictorial curiosity, as he will have neither the attention span nor the sense to appreciate your considerable charms for very long.

You suspect that his brazenly seductive messages are of the one-size-fits-all variety. Regretfully you are correct, my perceptive friend.

There is much more I could tell you, but for your sake I will stop there and offer a small consolation. In the near future, you will find your way to a similar website where he has also (REDACTED). There, you will find his (REDACTED)--a secret so (REDACTED), you won't be able to tell a soul. No one, not even (REDACTED). The knowledge will empower you, like a hidden talisman, as you grow strong in discretion. He will no longer be able to intimidate you.

It is my sincere hope you will find this information to be useful. And when you are ready, I will visit you again.

Warmest regards,
Burton

P.S.: Keep your friend HardRockDex at arm's length. He made a bet with Diva_Venus that he would have you wrapped around his little finger within a week. Except he didn't use the phrase, 'little finger.'

P.P.S.: Use a solution of Marty's Lemon Soap to clean up the mess you just made, darling girl. Measure two thirds of what is directed and it won't harm your floor's finish.

Shauna's heart whirled. She didn't know whether to laugh or weep with exultant relief. His specific points of advice were completely lost on her in the moment.

He hasn't gone away, after all! Oh, thank you, Mr. Chat Whisperer!

Her own high fructose corn syrup-coated fingers hurriedly began to tap out a response.

We can still communicate. Everything will be fine...

Mid-sentence, the reply box disappeared.

'Whaat?! Not another site bug, not now!" she wailed aloud.

Could the timing be any worse?

Here she was, about to reconnect with the mesmerizing, utterly gorgeous man in her dream who told her he was going to be her own personal Chat Whisperer and coach her in the art of blowing both minds and cocks of anyone she chose to cyber with, as they had never been blown before.

Theoretically, that is. She had other plans for a dreamboat like Burton. Like perfecting her erotic lessons with him for as long as he would have her.

First, I wake up from my sleeping dream...and now, this? My ultimate waking dream is fucked up by a bloody computer glitch?

She would have tried to reply again, but the icon was gone. Her heart raced in panic. The letter was still there. For now. She pressed Print and was relieved to see the hard copy of Burton's instructions jetting into view.

Thinking quickly, she opened a new window and searched for 'TheChatWhisperer.'

No Such User Found, the indifferent screen blared.

All breath left Shauna's lungs. How could a non-existent user send me mail?

Pounding the desk in frustration, Shauna was once again aware of the sticky wetness on her hands and in her lap that had nothing to do with the man of her horny dreams. She bolted to the kitchen for sponge and dishpan, so thoroughly overwhelmed with mixed emotion that she thought nothing of the brand new bottle of Marty's Lemon Soap under the sink, where there had been only Fluxx Liquid before.

Even as her bewilderment over her Chat Whisperer's second disappearance mounted, she was deeply touched that he was still looking out for her. The thought was a comforting one - more than enough to override Burton's depressing dossier on SexyRedactedBrit22 - as she mopped up the drips on and below her desk.

I'm very much awake. And Burton is out there, somewhere. He knows where to find me. But when will I be ready?

While blotting up the last traces, a thought struck that caused her to sit up sharply, and whack her head on the lip of the desk.

HOW DID HE KNOW I MADE A MESS?!

...to be continued, or (REDACTED)