Text 2 Lovers

by J. D. Hollyfield

  Her giggles are soothing. “Okay, fine. I love folding towels. Isn’t that strange? I mean, who admits to that? Towels! That’s weird. Nobody loves to do laundry. That’s the most boring thing ever. But truth is, Andie has had to drag me out of JC Penney’s before because I got stuck folding all their towels so they’d look neat. They were an awful mess! I couldn’t stand to look at them so I started folding them all. I even had a couple of people ask me questions where certain items were in the store because they thought I worked there. Of course, I shop there a lot so I was able to direct them, this, also, to Andie’s horror.” She starts giggling so hard I think she’s crying. It makes me chuckle too.

  “I want to see you,” I say. It just comes out. “God, how I want to see you.”

  She grows quiet. “Maybe one day. I’d like to keep getting to know each other first.”

  “Fine,” I grumble in faux annoyance. “Two more, towel girl.”

  “Let’s see…oh! I know one. I absolutely love cheese. Oh my God!! Cheese is the best thing ever. Like, I could eat it on everything probably. Sometimes I even ask the restaurant I’m eating at to melt a piece of cheese on my steak. Andie says that is, and I quote, ‘fuckin’ disgusting,’ but I can’t help it. It’s soooo good. I’m going to go to a cheese factory one day in Wisconsin. I’ll watch how it’s made and then take home a whole trunkful of cheese.” She groans and huffs again. “Gah, I just rambled some more. What is it with you that gives me verbal diarrhea? Ew, that’s gross. Diarrhea and cheese don’t belong in the same sentence.” Then, she gags.

  I start laughing so hard, I nearly drop my phone. “Y-You’re t-too much,” I manage to get out between breaths.

  She growls like the cutest goddamned kitten ever. “It IS gross, Ram!”

  “L-Last thing,” I stammer out as I try to contain my laughter.

  More of that breathy frustration on her end that gets my cock hard. “Fine. Okay, last thing.” The line goes quiet. “I love old people.”

  “Old people?”

  “I know, I know,” she utters. “Laugh all you want but it’s true. When I was sixteen, they took my choir class to sing at an old folks’ home. My grandparents on both sides were both dead by the time I was old enough to remember them, so I never really hung out with old people. But man, this old folks’ home was full of them. Some were really sad. Their eyes were hollow. It made my heart hurt for them. But then, some were hilarious. They’d regale you with tales from their youth. The old men would flirt like it was no big deal. The old ladies would gush about how pretty you were. It was just fun. Old people are fun. Then, after high school, I would volunteer at the home sometimes. I’d cry when some of my favorites would die. But mostly, I did a lot of laughing. And, man oh man, those old people are serious about their board games. Scrabble and I came together as a set when I’d visit. There was always someone there who wanted to play with me.” She lets out a sigh. “That’s it. Ten nerdy things about me. I bet you think I’m the weirdest woman you’ve ever met.”

  “Actually,” I tell her, my voice husky. “I think you’re beautiful.”

  She screeches on the other line. “You haven’t seen me, though! How could you possibly think I’m beautiful? What if I’m not your type? What if you don’t like my nose or my hair or my eyes? What if I’m too skinny for you or not skinny enough? What if you think my perfume smells like something you hate? What if—”

  I cut her off. “What if I don’t care about any of that? I think you are beautiful. I didn’t say your face or your body. I said you. And of course that sexy-as-sin hand, but mostly you. You’re funny and sweet and a little on the oddball side but that’s what makes you beautiful.”

  When I hear sniffling on the other end, I feel guilty. I’ve made her cry. Dammit!

  “That’s the nicest thing anyone besides my best friend has ever said to me,” she says, her voice wobbly. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You say thank you and accept it as truth. Fuckers like Daryl didn’t appreciate you. Fuckers like me do though. And I can’t wait to know more.”

  She sniffles again. “I need to go. Early day tomorrow.”

  God, I wish I were there to swipe away her tears for her. “I don’t want you to go.”

  She laughs and it’s good to know her crying has subsided. “I have to.”

  “Call me next time you get lonely. I’ll always answer if I can.”

  “Thank you,” she says sweetly. “Goodnight, Ram.”

  “Night, Buttercup.”

  We hang up and an instant feeling of loss overwhelms me. I stare up at the darkened ceiling for a whole ten minutes without moving. Instead of thinking about my insecurities and past, I think about her. I replay all of her stories in my head again. She’s so vibrant and colorful. Life drips from her and I want to drink it all up. I’ve known the woman but a couple of days and I’m quickly becoming obsessed with her. If Roman knew how wrapped up I was in this unidentified stranger, he’d slap some sense into me. And that’s exactly why he doesn’t get to know. I want to keep moving forward. Senseless is fun.

  My phone starts vibrating on my chest. When I see it’s Carrie, I grin as I answer.

  “That was quick,” I tell her with a chuckle.

  “Remember how you said we could be brave over the phone? Because we don’t know each other?” Her voice is serious, if not strained.

  “Yeah.”

  “I started to touch myself after we hung up but…” she trails off. My dick thickens at the mere thought of her fingers under her panties.

  “But what?”

  “But it’s more exhilarating to talk to you while I do it. Oh my God,” she whispers. “That’s so embarrassing to admit. I’m glad I can’t see your face judging me.”

  A growl rumbles through me. “I’m definitely not judging. I’m imagining that sexy little thumb with the chipped, navy blue polish and your other finger pinching your clit. It’s not judging, babe. It’s hot as fuck.”

  She lets out a whimper. “Hearing you talk like that is hot too.”

  “I could talk you right through your embarrassment. What do you say?”

  I can hear her swallow. “Okay.”

  Sitting up, I run my fingers through my messy hair. My heart is thundering in my chest and my cock is straining against my sweatpants. “What are you wearing?”

  “A big T-shirt and some panties,” she tells me bravely.

  “Take them off,” I order, my voice a low growl.

  She shuffles around and then she squeaks out a “done.”

  “Good girl. Now, I want you to touch your right nipple and tell me what you feel,” I instruct. My own hand tugs my sweatpants down my thighs until my heavy cock bobs out. Gripping it, I wait for her to speak.

  “Um, the nipple is hard. My nipples are small. I have little boobs,” she complains.

  “I like little boobs,” I encourage. My dick jolts at the idea of coming all over her pretty little tits.

  “Oh, good,” she murmurs. “Um, I’m aching. Down there.”

  “Down where?”

  “There.”

  “Your cunt?”

  “Oh my God!” she shrieks. “You said the C-word!”

  I laugh as I stoke my dick. “Don’t tell me you can’t say cunt.”

  “It’s awful, Ram. The worst bad word ever,” she hisses.

  “Say cunt, Buttercup.”

  “Nope. Not saying it out loud,” she grumbles.

  “We’ll continue this conversation later. Until then, slip your hand down to your pussy. Is pussy a better word?” I question with a grin.

  She giggles. “It’s better. Okay, I’m touching it.”

  “Your clit.”

  “Mmmmhmmm.”

  Her breathy voice, coupled with knowing she’s touching her clit, has me closing my eyes. I fill in the blanks with Carrie by using the brunette from the bar, Dani, in my fantasy. In my head, she’s lying on my bed with her brown hair decorating the pillow beneath her. Her small tits jiggle a
s she squirms each time she touches her clit.

  “Spread your thighs, baby,” I coo. My hand fists my cock harder. “I want you to tell me if your cunt is wet. Are you dripping for me?”

  She moans, and I nearly spill my seed right then. Slowing my fisting, I wait for her to answer. Finally, “Yes. I’m wet. Very wet actually. In fact,” she rambles, “I have never been this wet, I don’t think.”

  My cock aches for release. “You’ll only ever get that wet for me,” I growl. For some reason, I feel that vow down to my very being. “Rub your slick finger all over your clit. And when you think you might come, Buttercup, I want you to stick that finger in your mouth. Since I’m not there, it’s only fair you tell me how good you taste.”

  She moans louder this time. Her breaths come out ragged and uneven. Then, I hear a sucking sound. “I taste strange.”

  “I bet you taste like you and you already know how much I like you. One day I’m going to taste you for myself. What do you think about that?” I mumble, my fist moving quicker over my length.

  “I’m scared. What if we don’t get on in person?”

  “We’ll get on. So well, in fact, that I can guarantee you that the moment we actually meet in the flesh, I’ll have my tongue down your throat within the first ten minutes. And you’ll be begging for much more than that,” I tell her with a growl.

  She moans again and I know she’s back to fingering herself. With her soft breaths in my ear, I go quiet as I focus on my cock.

  “One day soon, I am going to suck on your clit for you, Buttercup. I’m going to bite it until you beg me not to. You’ll come all over my tongue, and when I taste you, I’ll confirm that you don’t taste strange at all. I bet you taste sweet like honey,” I murmur.

  “Oh, God,” she gasps. And then a long moan of pleasure. My own climax jolts through me. Heat from my release splashes my stomach, and I let out a groan of relief. When we both come down from our highs, the air feels different.

  Whoever you are, Buttercup, I’m coming for you.

  “Thank you, Ram.” She sighs happily. “That was weird if I think about it too hard. But I don’t want to think of it as weird. I loved it. It’s okay to admit that, right? I’m not a skank if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ve never done this before.”

  I shake my head and grin. “You’re not a skank. You’re mine.”

  We hang up not long after and for the first time in months, I sleep.

  Time to Pay the Piper

  “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE kidding me here,” Andie says in an exasperated tone. “Again?”

  “What?”

  I’ve barely just walked into work at the bank and Andie is all up on me. I look to see if I have something on my shirt.

  “Not your damn shirt,” she groans. “Your smile.” She pulls a face as if smiling is a bad thing. “Really, Dani? Another?”

  I begin to blush at what she’s getting at. I should have never told her about the first one.

  “This is getting ridiculous. We’re on day five of you and that goofy-ass weird I-did-strange-things-over-the-phone-with-a-guy look.” Her lip curls up as if this is the oddest thing she’s ever heard of.

  I bring my hands to my cheeks. Do I look weird? I don’t feel like I look any different. Maybe a constant smile rests on my face more lately, but that’s a given. The past five days with Ram have been…perfect. My cheeks and throat heat as I think about just how perfect my late night calls with him have been.

  “Oh God, you’re thinking about it right now, aren’t you? I’m going to vomit. Ew,” Andie says and starts making fake gagging noises.

  I ignore her jesting and set my purse under my teller booth. For the past five days, Ram and I have talked. A lot. We’ve gotten to know more about one another, in a way that I don’t think I ever have with any other boyfriend.

  Oh my God! I just compared him to a boyfriend.

  Friend.

  He’s a friend.

  But then again, do friends do what we’ve been scantily doing all week?

  My cheeks must be blazing crimson at this point. I pick at the polish on my nail and let my hair curtain around my face as I hide the evidence of my naughty ways from Andie and all my other coworkers.

  Each night our conversations have led us both into a heated craze. One thing ends up leading to another, and then we’re both touching ourselves, talking through every move like we’re lying in the same bed. As if we’re actually touching each other.

  Quite frankly, it’s hot.

  Exhilarating and exciting.

  And fun.

  But it’s more than that. It’s almost as if I know him already and he hasn’t even set eyes on me. It’s strange, though. Sometimes, during his heated praises, the way he compliments me, it’s like he already knows me.

  And Lord help me. The things he says. Naughty. Dirty. Straight up bad. Vulgar words that cause me to turn bright red with embarrassment, but at the same time, gush with wetness between my legs.

  I like it.

  I like him.

  I like what we’ve been doing.

  “That’s it! I’m pulling my desperate card.” I break from my thoughts to look at Andie, who’s manhandling the money till into her drawer.

  “What’s it? And what’s a desperate card?” I ask, confusion making my nose scrunch. “What is this look you’re giving me?”

  “It’s my, ‘I’m sick of watching you walk in those doors every morning with that I just did naughty things to myself with a complete stranger over the phone’ look. I need to get laid. And I’m pulling my desperate card.”

  I giggle at her, still not following. “I never said I was doing anything over the phone, besides that one time, and I still don’t understand the desperate card.”

  “Oh bullshit!” she bellows. “You’ve been practically skipping in here each morning. You actually said no to Frank yesterday about picking up his shift, without me coaching you, and dammit, even your skin looks better. You’re getting it. In some way, shape, or form.”

  I start to laugh at her outburst. I only admitted to Andie the first time and that was enough for me. The shock, then laughter, then drilling me to give her all the details was enough for me to keep the second, and the third…and the fourth to myself.

  “I will plead the fifth on all of that,” I tell her with a coy smile. “Besides the Frank thing. He was crazy to think that since I wouldn’t cover his shift that I would take his dog again to the vet. No and no.”

  “I know, girl, and sweet move on making him pay you right then and there for the last vet visit. My jaw about fell off, listening to you demand he pay you that moment or that you would take it up with management.” She flashes me a grin full of pride.

  I smile to myself as well. Ever since talking to Ram, there’s been this change in me. Confidence maybe? He just says such kind things to me. Makes me feel…I don’t know. Important? During one of our nightly chats, I went into telling him about the pushover side of me, about how I let Daryl walk all over me, and even about the money I lent him. He got angry for me but then tried to coach me, just as Andie did, on how to say no. It turned into a game of sexual banter, and while the beginning started with me teasing myself, telling him no, it ended with me panting “yes, yes, yes.”

  “I can’t. I just don’t have it in me to say that. It’s just… just… mean,” I say at the bold statement Ram is coaching me to say when I confront Daryl, which he has convinced me is a must to get my money back.

  “Buttercup, it’s not mean. It’s the truth. That asshole fucked you over and ripped you off. You should rip off his balls.”

  My heart warms at my nickname. He is right, though. Daryl cannot get away with taking that money from me. “Okay fine. I’ll say it, but I’m not sure about the whole breaking things part.”

  “Then fuck his office up somehow. Does he have furniture in there? Take a knife or a key to it. Just get all crazy badass so he knows you mean business.” He finishes his statement on a laugh. We both know I
don’t have an ounce of badass crazy in me. I’ve changed out of my work clothes into a thin tank top and panties. I crawl into bed, making myself more comfortable.

  “You got a bit quiet. Tell me what you’re doing right now.” His voice is deep, his request more of a statement.

  I push away the thin sheet covering from the hip down and kick it the rest of the way off. Then, I allow my thumb to graze my skin, the feeling of being touched while hearing his voice, enthralling. “I just got into bed. I was making myself cozy.”

  His grunt at knowing exactly what I’m doing despite my lies does this to me. It makes me so hot for him. Every time this week that we’ve started something past a casual conversation, it’s begun with me letting him know my position.

  “Fuck, FaceTime me. Please. Let me see you.”

  I laugh, brushing my fingers along my navel and lower stomach. “No! What if I have hairy legs and I didn’t shave. You would run for the hills. Plus…I’m not ready for that.”

  “God, Buttercup, when you are…” he trails off and lets out a rush of breath. “I swear I’m going to do things to you that will change you.”

  His words are like sexual triggers for me. No man has ever had such a tongue like Ram does. The things he says to me. The promises he makes. My hand moves up my stomach gently squeezing my breast. I feel so naughty touching myself while he talks, but the past few days have taught me a boldness I never knew I had.

  “Your breathing is picking up,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. “Are you touching yourself, Buttercup?”

  I am.

  And I wish his hands were on my skin, caressing my breasts, pinching my hardened nipples, stroking the wetness that’s building between my thighs.

  “Answer me, fuck.” He groans, and I wonder if he’s touching himself too. “I can tell you’re touching yourself. It’s making me grip my cock, hearing those little gusts of air. Where are your hands, Buttercup?”

  His questions spark another wave of desire, knowing how naughty I am for admitting it. But I do. “I’m touching my breast. Squeezing my nipple, because it’s hard and sensitive with arousal.”