Wrong Number

by Laura Brown

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Avery

  Hours later, I was back in my Batgirl pajamas and staring at my bedroom ceiling. I tried sleeping, but my brain wouldn’t shut up. So I switched to thoughts of Jake and our upcoming date, only to run into two problems. I had no idea when this date would be, and thoughts of Jake, at night, in my bed, led me to Dick Guy.

  I really never should have imagined Jake’s face.

  There was only one way to solve this and get my head out of the gutter. I needed to know what Dick Guy looked like above the belt. I collected my phone.

  Me: If we’re going to share more pictures, perhaps you could show me your face.

  Ugh, I sounded stalkerish. There was no win with texting. I really needed to read over my words before sending.

  Dick Guy: And now you want to know what I look like.

  Me: It helps with the fantasies.

  Dick Guy: And tall, dark, and handsome doesn’t work?

  Me: In text terms, that means the opposite.

  Dick Guy: And how would you know I’m sending you my picture anyway?

  Me: I won’t. The same way I don’t know if that original dick is really yours.

  Dick Guy: Oh, that’s mine.

  Me: Sad, shriveled, little thing.

  Dick Guy: You baiting me, Wrong Number?

  I bit my lip. I needed to stay focused on separating him from Jake, and yet anticipation curled low in my belly and spread through my veins, giving me the only answer I needed.

  Me: What if I am?

  Dick Guy: Then you have to decide which picture you want.

  Both. But I couldn’t type that. What a conundrum. I tapped the phone, wrestling with myself over which fantasy I wanted. The allure of the erotic or the ability to make this exchange more real?

  Me: You could always surprise me.

  Answering this question had me pushed and pulled in two different directions, rendering it impossible. Though deep down, I knew which answer I wanted. That desire had been blocked by my far too engaged brain. She wouldn’t let me relax and follow this experience wherever it took us.

  Dick Guy: Like when I sent you the first picture?

  Me: Something like that.

  Dick Guy: Then the real question is…do you want to play?

  Me: Yes.

  My damn fingers were off and running without me again. And I held my breath, almost afraid of what would happen.

  Dick Guy: Then whose turn was it to take off their shirt first? I lost track.

  Me: I believe that would be mine.

  I didn’t recognize the person in my texts. It was like I had an inner sex kitten and she came purring out, relishing in the freedom of anonymity.

  Dick Guy: You ready to take it off?

  One step ahead of you. I tossed my shirt on the floor and snuggled under my blankets for warmth, or out of embarrassment, both were high up there. The cool sheets rubbed against my bare skin, adding to my arousal level. Hard to believe this guy got to me the way he did, but my body refused to be denied.

  Me: Already on the floor.

  Dick Guy: Good. Mine too. They’re tangled up together as we should be.

  Me: That was almost sweet.

  Dick Guy: Hey, I am a man of many talents.

  Me: Such as?

  Dick Guy: I can pick up small objects with the toes on my right foot.

  Me: But not your left.

  Dick Guy: Nope. Just my right. Think of it as my super leg.

  I laughed and snuggled in further.

  Me: If I kiss up super leg, will the other be jealous?

  Dick Guy: Don’t know. Maybe you should try?

  I wanted to. I really wanted to.

  Me: Okay. I did it. What happened?

  Dick Guy: Didn’t you learn anything from last time? Come on. Describe it to me.

  My cheeks heated and my thumbs hovered over my keyboard. I tried to come up with something to type, but my thoughts ran blank. I knew what I’d do in person, but describing that? I struggled to find the words.

  Me: I don’t know how. What’s there to describe? My lips are pressing to various spots of your leg.

  Dick Guy: Getting warmer.

  Me: Or are you getting warmer?

  Dick Guy: Both. How far do you go?

  I bit my lip, imaging a strong and muscular leg, hairy, but not overly so, but hit a snag once I got past the knee.

  Me: Depends, how much of your leg is exposed?

  Dick Guy: All of it.

  I fanned the blankets, body warming up, as the mental image expanded to include a lickable thigh.

  Me: When did you take off your pants?

  Dick Guy: When you asked me how much I had exposed.

  Me: What do you have left on?

  He sent me a winking emoji. The thought of him, lying there naked—and I refused to acknowledge any Jake images in my head—had me feeling bold.

  Me: Then maybe I keep kissing, all the way up. Stopping at some interesting spots in between.

  Dick Guy: Damn. Now you’re getting it.

  This time, I sent him a smiling emoji. It barely matched the large grin on my face.

  Dick Guy: Can I return the favor?

  I swallowed as a sudden heat rush replaced my grin, consuming me with want and need. I debated grabbing some water.

  Me: Please.

  Dick Guy: What’s exposed?

  Me: Just my top.

  Dick Guy: Fix that.

  Oh boy. I really needed to figure out how he managed to work me up so well. Thoughts for another time, like when I didn’t have throbbing between my legs demanding attention. I quickly got rid of my pajama bottoms and underwear, the cool air refusing to dampen my arousal.

  Me: Done.

  Dick Guy: Done what?

  I squirmed, my blankets reminding me the exact answer he wanted.

  Me: Everything’s exposed. Well, I’m under blankets, so take that at face value.

  Dick Guy: I’m under those blankets with you. Way under. Kissing upward from your feet.

  My belly clenched, knowing where he’d end up, and wanting it to be real. Did he have facial hair or not? What would it feel like?

  Me: Where are you now?

  Dick Guy: Where do you want me?

  My toes damn near curled, and I seriously contemplated taking a picture to show him.

  Me: You’re getting under my skin.

  Dick Guy: Good. That makes two of us.

  Me: Two of us? How is this getting under your skin?

  When my phone tried to download a picture, I squealed and turned it over. OMG. Did he send me what I thought? All my bravado faded, and I had to wonder if I really wanted to do this. I mean, it wasn’t like I hadn’t seen his dick before. But aroused. By me…

  I turned the phone over. In my text app, I had one very happy dick saluting me. I bit my lip, because it made my panties damp. He sent another text before I could respond.

  Dick Guy: What are you doing now?

  Wishing my mouth was on you. And then I figured, what the hell, and sent those exact words.

  Dick Guy: Prove it.

  Me: Umm, hello, my body parts don’t come with many visible arousal signs.

  Dick Guy: They do if you’re wet and shaved.

  Me: Well, that I’m not.

  Which reminded me I was overdue for some trimming. Not something I usually worried about outside of relationships and summer. But clearly, this guy had me in a different situation.

  Dick Guy: Wet?

  Me: No. Shaved.

  Dick Guy: Good, that’s not really my preference anyways.

  Me: Glad we cleared that up, then.

  Dick Guy: Do I get a picture?

  I put the phone down and stared off into the room. Should I send him something? I had no way of knowing if he’d share this with his friends or not, or if I’d find my body parts on the internet someday. But the truth was, those parts weren’t connected to my name or face.

  I’d have to trim another day. But for now I s
queezed my chest together and took a picture. This one wasn’t grainy. In fact, it didn’t look that bad. It made me feel sexy and desirable. Heck, I’d motorboat them, and I preferred male partners. I held my breath, closed my eyes. And sent it.

  Dick Guy: See, you are aroused. And those have to be the most lickable tits I’ve ever seen.

  My nipples tightened, sending a tug straight down to my clit. If this guy was real, I’d be crawling all over him like a cat in heat. But he wasn’t real and my arousal point had just about hit its limit.

  Me: I’d tell you to watch your language, but that goes against everything we’re doing here. I will say I could be cold.

  Dick Guy: Are you? I can warm you up.

  Now I was positively burning.

  Me: I’m not cold.

  Dick Guy: Good.

  I didn’t know where to go from here. My body practically hummed, more turned on than I ever got myself on my own. That elusive orgasm just out of reach, no matter how many pictures Dick Guy sent. For the rest, I needed hands-on, tactile interaction.

  I needed to invest in a vibrator.

  Dick Guy: You still with me?

  Me: Sorta.

  Dick Guy: Too much?

  Me: No, more like my limit for the day since the self-serve doesn’t work.

  Dick Guy: What would work? Come on. Share a fantasy or two with a guy hard up.

  A fact I had proof of. I squirmed under the blankets and decided to let my reservations pass.

  Me: Well, there’s banging wall sex. But I suspect that might be more of a mythical fantasy.

  Dick Guy: Fantasy me would be more than happy to assist.

  The temperature shot up another hundred degrees. Granted, I was under the blankets, and really should have contemplated getting some fresh air.

  Me: And if we fall and fail?

  Dick Guy: Then we’ll laugh it off and try it a different way.

  Me: Such as? What’s one of your fantasies?

  Dick Guy: Licking chocolate syrup off a woman.

  Me: You’ve never done that?

  Dick Guy: Never found the right person.

  Me: Shame. I’d gladly be that person.

  Dick Guy: If we ever end up in the same place, you’ll have to show me.

  A pang of guilt hit me at that. What was I doing texting, no, sexting Dick Guy when I had a date coming up with Jake? Was it even wrong when I’d never meet Dick Guy and I hadn’t actually been on a date with Jake? I didn’t know the answer, only that the mood had been broken.

  Me: I should really attempt some sleep. Thank you for the picture.

  Dick Guy: No, thank you. Mind if I jerk off to your image?

  I yanked the covers off my head to get some fresh air. Never had words like that gotten to me, but his did. And I wanted to be the one with my hands on him.

  That couldn’t happen. And I needed to remind myself he could be anyone and not someone I could 100% trust.

  Me: As long as you don’t share that picture with anyone else, have at it.

  Dick Guy: For my eyes only; your picture is safe with me. Night, Wrong Number.

  Me: Good night.

  I set my phone to charging and fanned the covers in an attempt to calm down. My mind drifted and I hovered in that spot between sleep and awake for some time. Images flashed to mind, those of Jake, those of Dick Guy, until I really wished they were one and the same.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jake

  My early arrival for my shift had little to do with cupcakes and more to do with the cupcake baker. Okay, so I wanted both.

  I found her in the kitchen, curved over chocolate cupcakes and piping a dark frosting. I wasn’t sure if it was chocolate or not, looked too light to be a match. And boring. Avery tended to produce some simple cupcakes, but I enjoyed her more fanciful creations the best.

  Her apron tied in back, and I took in her rounded rear end as she swayed with her motions or the music or something in her head. I moved toward her, drawn by her, the sweets, or some unknown cosmic force. “And which one is this?”

  She didn’t respond. She continued working and I took her for being in the zone, as Mom and Hannah often were. I stepped back and propped up against a clean spot on the table, watching her create one icing job after the other, the kind that created perfect swirls.

  When she finished, she straightened, one hand going to her lower back and rubbing right below the ties and above the curve of her ass. I wanted to put my hands there, press my thumbs into her sore muscles and massage until a moan escaped her lips. Instead, I shoved them into my pockets.

  “What’s the flavor of this one?”

  Avery froze, then looked away from me, turning in a circle before finding me standing there. Her eyes widened. “Jake! I didn’t see you. Did you say something?”

  My eyebrows lowered. “Yeah. You really are in the zone when you work, huh?”

  She looked down, shuffling bright pink Crocs.

  “Not quite.” She raised her head and pinned me with a stare. “I have a hearing loss. One of my hearing aids broke, and I’m waiting for it to be repaired.”

  Come to think of it, I remembered Mom and Hannah mentioning something, but I’d been distracted at the time. And I wasn’t about to go down memory lane with Avery standing right there in front of me. She’d put a wall up, for some reason I felt it, felt the brace for rejection. Heck, I knew it well having experienced it with my leg. I was the last person on earth to have a problem with it. “Both ears?”

  She angled her head and showed off a hearing aid that matched her flesh tone, with a tiny sticker of a cupcake on it.

  I laughed. “That’s perfect. Did the other one have a cupcake, too?”

  She nodded. “Yup.”

  I pointed to the real cupcakes. “What’s the flavor?”

  She plucked one up to hand it to me, and I didn’t miss it was the messiest one of the bunch. I’d grown up on less than artistic sweets. I preferred them. They tasted better. “Coffee chocolate fudge.”

  I sniffed and nearly moaned. “I’m going to need to hit that hiking trail before coming here.”

  Her eyes shined in a way that made me forget about the cupcake I held. “Or you could just enjoy sweets and show it proudly.”

  I slid my eyes up and down her trim body. “Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

  “I bake this stuff all day nearly every day. Trust me, my sweet tooth has its limits.”

  I leaned forward, couldn’t be helped. “I’ve seen you purchase food from here.”

  “I’ll have you know you’re the only person I’ve purchased from.”

  I placed a hand over my heart. “I feel honored. And speaking of food, you free tomorrow night?”

  A slow smile warmed up her face and my gaze slid to her bare lips. “I think I might be.”

  I pushed off the counter. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Meet you here? Seven o’clock?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  I strode off, sinking my teeth into her cupcake. The coffee and chocolate burst over my tongue. Absolutely fucking delicious. And enough caffeine to keep me powered for the rest of the day.

  My mouth was full as I entered the front. One customer was checking out the display case—silver hair with blue spikes, my most recent dye job. A customer of mine for years, Kirk had ditched the suit and tie for an early retirement. He’d never made it to the bakery before, but his newfound free time finally brought him by. I waved and tried to hurry up my chewing, but the food was too good to rush.

  Eventually, I had my mouth cleared. “Kirk, you made it.”

  He straightened and nodded. “I did. That looks good.”

  “One of the best cupcakes you’ll ever taste.”

  “A specialty from your mother?”

  “No, this one’s from one of our newer bakers.”

  Kirk turned back to the display. “What should I try?”

  “Just about anything. The rugelach we’re famous for is either from Mom or my sister. Family recipe.�
� One that had propelled the bakery from little unknown to sought after. We even had people trying to steal it from us, the reason why only Mom and Hannah baked it. Anyone new who tried to get their hands on it left empty-handed.

  Kirk looked around, a frown crossing his brow. I pointed to the crescent-shaped pastry made with a cream-cheese dough. Today, we had raspberry and chocolate fillings.

  “I’ll have to try some, then,” he said.

  Mom entered from the back, carrying a tray with chocolate chip cookies.

  I waited for her to get settled before speaking. “Mom, meet Kirk. He’s in need of some of your rugelach.”

  Mom straightened, taking in Kirk with her eagle eyes. He did the same with her. “Have you ever had rugelach, Kirk?”

  “No, ma’am. Where do you suggest I start?”

  “What’s your sweet tooth like? Chocolate or jam?”

  “All sounds good. Surprise me.”

  Mom studied him a bit too long for my liking, before grabbing a bag and placing one of each in there. “Here’s what you do. Bring those home. Try both of them. Then come back and let me know which you prefer.”

  She handed the bag over.

  Kirk opened it up and sniffed, then closed his eyes. “Smells delicious. What do I owe you?”

  He reached for his wallet.

  Mom waved him off. “First time’s on the house. Just come back and give me a report.”

  Kirk folded down the bag. “I’ve filed a lot of reports in my day; this one will be my favorite.” He waved to each of us and left the shop.

  I waited for the bell to stop jiggling before I spoke. “You gave those away.”

  Mom resumed transferring the cookies to the display case. “Like you didn’t give Avery one hell of an employee discount the other night.”

  Busted. “Hey, she’s new.”

  Mom straightened. “And you like her.”

  “Guilty.”

  “Good. I like her with you. Just be careful. No scaring off one of my best bakers.”

  “You think I’m letting those cupcakes go anywhere?”

  Mom threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, the dirty and inappropriate jokes I could make with that.”

  I moved behind the counter and picked an apron from the stash. “I learned from the best.”

  Mom collected the tray and turned to head back to the kitchen. “Just don’t mess it up.”