by Laura Brown
Me: I’m not exactly in a place conducive to this type of chat. Tell me something about yourself.
Wrong Number: Beyond that I’m texting a stranger who likes to put bows on my nipple?
The grin came loose and easy over my face. Yeah I did.
Me: Top hat first. Never forget that. Give me the chance and I’ll tie a real bow on you.
Wrong Number: That would mean we’d no longer be strangers.
Me: Truth.
I couldn’t deny the thought intrigued. I nearly asked her where she lived before I caught myself. This was good because we knew so little. Anonymous mystery and fun.
Me: You gonna tell me something about yourself?
I wasn’t good at listening to myself.
Wrong Number: I once had a pet fish. He lived for two years before jumping out of the bowl and going to the fishbowl in the sky.
Me: A pet fish?
Wrong Number: He liked human food. We used to feed him scraps. Your turn.
Me: I once killed a squirrel by driving over it. My friends thought it was a dick move, but I actually swerved to avoid it, only the squirrel changed directions right into my tire.
Wrong Number: I don’t know whether that’s sweet or scary.
Me: Decide at your own peril, fish lover.
Wrong Number: I actually don’t eat a lot of fish, sans an occasional tuna sandwich.
Me: No sushi?
Wrong Number: Uncooked fish? No thanks.
Me: Can’t blame you. I’m not much of a fan either.
The bell chimed and I shoved my phone into my back pocket. It vibrated and I spent the next ten minutes trying to focus on the giggling teenagers picking out dessert, and not wonder what text waited for me.
I checked before the door closed behind them.
Wrong Number: This isn’t exactly flirting.
Me: You’re right. It’s not.
Wrong Number: You still unable to indulge?
I had twenty minutes left, then I had to clean up.
Me: Yup. What are you wearing?
I had no idea why I had such an obsession with this woman’s clothes, besides needing something more than a breast to go on.
Wrong Number: Well, since you’re busy: a burlap sack.
Me: I bet you look great in it.
For some reason, I really did. My fantasies had run away, far away, and even if reality had been screwed over, I’d keep this bubble we’d created.
Wrong Number: Full disclosure, I’m laughing and shaking my head.
Me: Laughter is a great aphrodisiac.
Wrong Number: Good to know.
Me: Look, I’ve got a few more minutes here, then I need to take care of some things before I head home. Should I text you later?
I wished I could put inflection into a text, let her know I had a suggestive tone going on. Perhaps she’d catch my drift considering the direction most of our interactions went.
Wrong Number: I’ve got nothing going on. Feel free to fill my night.
Me: I’d gladly fill anything your heart desires.
Damn, I was hard and straining against the seam of my jeans. Thankfully, the apron still covered me from view.
Wrong Number: I guess I walked into that one.
Me: You sure did. Until later.
I put the phone in my back pocket and tried to think frigid thoughts. Anticipation fought it. What would Wrong Number come up with next?
CHAPTER FOUR
Avery
“Your audiologist says the hearing aid needs to be sent back for repairs. Do you want to mail it to me or visit on your day off?”
I rubbed my neck with my free hand while I listened to Mom. Mail would take time and make me worry about it arriving safely. But home was over three hours away. Granted, it wasn’t like I had much of a social life yet.
“I’ll visit. See if you can schedule an appointment for Monday afternoon.”
“She already said she’ll squeeze us in if you can get out here. How’s the job? Meet any cute guys?”
“Job’s good. Same as yesterday.” The guy question brought to mind Jake and his perfectly styled wavy hair above an undercut. Seriously, the Rubens had to have the most stylish hair I’d ever seen. There had been something about the way Jake looked at me, a flutter low in my belly. But he was Nell’s son, and I didn’t want to go there, especially when I wouldn’t be here long-term. “I’ve got some random guy sending me obscene pictures.”
“Avery.” Mom sighed. “Don’t be a pest. It’s a perfectly normal question.”
Normal for Lois Bloom. Not normal for most parents. Not normal for me either, as most children wouldn’t reveal the texts. However, I knew Mom wouldn’t believe I was capable of such hijinks.
“I spend my days elbow deep in flour, in a shop where I can’t really interact, not with one hearing aid. Ask me again in a few weeks, not days.”
“Fine. I just worry about you. It’s time to move on from Erik.”
I looked at my ceiling and counted to ten. I couldn’t tell her the truth—that we had grown apart before his death—it would only fuel her manhunt. I also couldn’t deny some truth lay in her concerns. A man I once thought I loved dropped dead in front of me. Not the same as recovering from a breakup.
“I’m getting there.”
That spark with my mystery texter inspired me. Maybe I was ready to move on.
“When will you be ready? I want grandchildren.”
I closed my eyes and pictured a relaxing sunset, complete with tropical trees and water. “I’m twenty-nine. I’ve got at least ten years before you have to really worry about this.”
“I’m not getting any younger either. I’d like to hang out with my grandchildren before I’m in a nursing home.”
The pristine scenery vanished, and I flailed my arms as though Mom could see me. “Enough with the dramatics. I’m focusing on my career, where I should be. And there’s no Prince Charming knocking at my door.”
My phone chimed and I pulled it back to see a text message scroll across the top. From Dick Guy.
“What was that?”
“A message from my obscene texter. I need to go. I’ll call you before I leave on Monday so you know when to expect me.”
I disconnected with Mom and switched over to my text app.
Dick Guy: I’m home now. What are you really wearing?
Me: Batgirl pajamas.
I could tell this guy anything I wanted. I could be sprawled out, waiting for him in a sexy negligée; instead I told him the unsexy truth.
Dick Guy: Nice. Do they come with a cape?
Me: For sleeping? Hell no. They’re warm and cozy.
Dick Guy: So you’re all hot and bothered?
The words alone made my skin itchy and breasts heavy.
Me: Do you have some weird fetishes I should know about?
Dick Guy: Yeah, and right now they’re all centered around you. Take off your top.
Goose bumps hit my arms, raising the fine hairs there, and I hadn’t even done anything. I wanted to, the temptation to follow his request at an addicting level.
Me: You know, now you’re sounding like an obscene texter.
Not true, but my insecurities had tumbled out to play. I tried to shove them back in a box, but they were pretty shocked by this new side of me and refused to budge.
Dick Guy: LOL. I’ll back off, if that’s what you want. We did already exchange some interesting pictures.
The reminder of those pictures had my libido battling with my insecurities. I didn’t know this guy from a hole in the wall. He could be anything I wanted. So what did I want?
Me: Indeed we have. And what would happen if I took off my top?
Round one won by my libido.
Dick Guy: I’d wish I could take in the view and lick down your body to where I had placed that pretty bow.
My core clenched and my nipples tightened, nearly begging me to make it real.
Dick Guy: You still want that new picture?
&nb
sp; Yes! I wanted that picture. But it wasn’t me, not really. Even if my toes curled in anticipation, didn’t mean this was the right thing.
Me: What are we doing here?
My libido had nearly won. But I lived in reality, not fantasy, and as much as I wanted to explore this further, I didn’t know how.
Dick Guy: Having a fun time?
I couldn’t argue with that one.
Dick Guy: Okay, no pictures. No dirty talk. You said you moved recently. Settling in?
I glanced around at the boxes I had left to unpack, dwindling to half the wall, trying not to feel disappointed at how easily he switched gears.
Me: Sorta. My things are here, but it’s not quite home yet, if you know what I mean.
Dick Guy: Think so. Did you move for a job, to get away, needed a fresh start?
Me: Nosy, huh? I moved for a job. A great opportunity for me. And once I learn all I can, I plan on moving back home.
Dick Guy: So this is all temporary.
My boxes didn’t project temporary, but the amount of belongings I had in storage in my parents’ basement did. I brought what I needed for two years—daily belongings and a few odds and ends to make a place feel like home.
Sure, there was another reason for the bulk of my belongings being in storage. The last person I had lived with was Erik. And I didn’t want to go there, not with my friendly yet inappropriate texter to interact with.
Me: Yup. What about you? Do you live where you do because of a job, family, or other?
Dick Guy: Family, you could say. Born and raised here. Never had a reason to run away.
Me: Never?
That shocked me. Didn’t everyone run away at some point? Heck, technically, I ran away to take this job. I certainly needed to get away from home.
Dick Guy: Well, there was that rite of passage backpack through Europe thing. But home has always been…home.
What would that be like, to not have home become this stifling place where breathing grew difficult?
Me: Don’t tell me you still live with your mother?
He sent me a winking emoji and I forgot about my own mental torments.
Dick Guy: Moved out after I graduated from college. But I have dinner there once a week.
I warmed up to him. At least the persona he showed me was a nice guy. Could be all an act to get into my virtual pants, but I really wanted to believe there were enough nice guys out there that one could randomly fall into my phone.
Me: So you’re not sick of your family yet?
Dick Guy: Oh, I’m sick of them. But we laugh as much as we piss each other off. What about you? Missing family?
So much for pushing aside thoughts of my own family, and the complicated overbearing load they’d become.
Me: Yes and no. Not quite homesick yet, and I’ll be visiting soon, but it’s lonely suddenly being in a new town all by myself.
And there it was, the real issue on my plate. I needed to get away, to make a fresh start. But that left me up late at night, with nothing but my own thoughts to entertain me.
Dick Guy: I’d offer to show you around, but I guess you know all about the internet.
I laughed. Who was this guy who gave me answers and helped pull me out of the rut said answers created?
Me: Yes, I do. Though dick pics are new.
Dick Guy: And right back to talking about my appendage. I think you’re obsessed.
Me: With a shriveled little dick?
Dick Guy: Little?
Me: I don’t have much else to go by, do I?
I bit my lip. Playing with this guy beat any game on my phone.
Dick Guy: Are you baiting me, Wrong Number?
Crap. I was. And I still didn’t know what I wanted out of this odd exchange.
Me: Yes…and no. This is all brand new to me.
Dick Guy: So how will you know whether you like it or not?
My breath backed up in my throat and my thumbs remained still. I didn’t move, waiting on him to make a move. Any move.
Dick Guy: You have two options. You can either take off your top and we’ll find out if you like it. Or you can change the subject.
Huh, he wasn’t ending this odd exchange if I didn’t play ball. Relief uncoiled. I could chat with my friends back home, but for some reason, I relished this new contact for this new journey in my life.
Me: How would you know if I take off my top or not?
Dick Guy: Doesn’t matter, unless you send pictures. The rest is purely about the fantasy. What you do is up to you.
I stared at his words, as a strong dose of lust coursed through me. I held my phone at just the right angle that my arms brushed against my sensitive nipples. Not normal phone behavior for me. I’d need to tackle quite a few boxes to get this pent-up energy out of my system in order to sleep.
Me: I took off my top.
So help me, I really did. The cool air hit my bare skin and I wanted to reach through the phone and bring this guy to me in person.
Dick Guy: Need to work on your seduction, but no mind. I got ya.
Me: What? I should have typed something along the lines of my shirt hit the floor, exposing me to the cool night air?
The phone was mysteriously quiet for long enough I checked my signal.
Dick Guy: Yeah, like that. That had me stripping off both my shirt and my pants.
My body tightened further.
Me: And since I know you go commando…
Dick Guy: Only wearing my socks now. You wanna get handsy or stop here?
My hand was already running up and down my side, but there was a big problem with going further.
Me: Touching myself doesn’t do much for me.
Dick Guy: I know you didn’t mean that to be sexy, but that just about shot through me. This is a fantasy. Sometimes you get wound up to no release, other times you do. It’s all part of the fun.
Me: You do this often?
Dick Guy: A few times with a past girlfriend. In hindsight, it was her trying to remove the real me from the equation.
Me: I’m sorry.
Dick Guy: No need.
Me: So…you sitting in a chair, lying on a bed? Help a woman out. How visible are those socks?
Dick Guy: Socks are now gone. I’m lying in bed. Waiting on you.
Oh boy. This guy was too much for me and still managed to lure me in like a moth to a flame.
Me: And if I was there with you?
Dick Guy: There would be a lot of kissing, and touching until you were as naked as I am.
I moved to my bed and stripped down until I was huddled under my covers wearing nothing at all.
Me: This is ridiculous.
Dick Guy: Then maybe it’s time to say good night.
No. I was too wound up. Sleep wouldn’t even be an option.
Me: Can’t. Talk me down?
Dick Guy: Did I make you wet?
Every time I shifted and my thighs rubbed together, I was reminded of just how much.
Me: Yes.
Dick Guy: Good. I could lick that up, but I don’t think that’s what you want.
I whimpered and trailed my hand down my stomach before pushing my face into the pillow.
Me: Not helping.
He sent me a laughing emoji.
Dick Guy: Okay. New subject. I got even with my buddy who was supposed to get that GIF I sent you.
Me: Yeah? How?
Dick Guy: Punched him.
Me: That’s not very nice.
Dick Guy: He had it coming. He tripped me the other day.
Me: So you tried to send him a dick GIF?
Dick Guy: The fall broke my phone.
Me: Still!
Dick Guy: Relax. It’s guy code. I didn’t hurt him. But I bet that’s helped your aroused state.
It had, until he mentioned it and my body perked back to life. I needed to calm back down or find some way to pull him through my phone.
Me: I should go.
Dick Guy: You done with me?
Me: Not yet.
I wanted more, much more. Not normal behavior for me. I kinda liked it.
Dick Guy: We gonna play some more later?
Me: You sound like an eager puppy.
Dick Guy: Close enough.
My thighs rubbed against each other again and I squeezed them, failing at warding off the aching. It had been so long since anyone had been this eager for me. And I feared my eagerness matched.
Me: Yes.
Dick Guy: Then I should let you go before you change your mind. Dream of me, Wrong Number.
Me: You too.
Dick Guy: Oh, I’m already there. Sweet dreams.
I set my phone to charging and thought about getting dressed. Then discarded the notion. In my bed, under my blankets, naked, I thought of Dick Guy and moved to touch myself, maybe this time, after this conversation, would be different. But one swipe over my own nipple was more like a breast check than stimulation. I hadn’t been able to get any release since Erik, and we had been together so long I had no clue if that stemmed from guilt or who I happened to be. I settled for closing my eyes and picturing Dick Guy. It took some time, but he was right, I did have sweet dreams.
*
Steam rose from the cupcakes as I pulled them out of the oven. I took a moment, and a big sniff, enjoying that burst of warmth and aroma. Times like these, I knew I had the best job ever.
Half the cupcakes were transferred to cooling racks when a soft murmur came from my hearing aid-less ear. The noise continued, and I caught Hannah in my peripheral, chattering away, her voice blending in with the music and talking and other kitchen sounds.
“Can you move to my other side? I hear better with that ear.” I pointed to my hearing aid, easily seen with my hair back in a ponytail.
Hannah followed my finger.
“Oh my, that’s so cool. You have a tiny cupcake on there.”
I laughed as I transferred more cupcakes. “My friend found this YouTuber who put stickers on her hearing aids and purchased these tiny ones to fit mine. I’ll be curious to see if they remove it from my other one. It broke and has to go back to the shop.”
“I’m sorry.” Hannah glanced around. “This must be hard for you, all the noise, I mean.”
I shrugged and moved the empty pan to the sink. “I manage. It’s normal.”
