That escalated quickly. We've gone from philosophy to demands for nudity in three days. What kind of timeline is this?
Wrong Number:The kind where you do what I say because you want to.
My vagina just got tenure for her thesis. My brain is requesting immediate evacuation.
Bold assumption.
Wrong Number:Accurate assumption. Take it off, Angel.
I look at Izzy. She's grinning like she just diagnosed something fatal but fascinating.
"If you don't, I will literally never forgive you."
You don't even know what I look like. I could be a bridge troll with a medical degree.
Wrong Number:I don't care what you look like. I care what you sound like when you come.
Jesus Christ on a diagnostic chart. My internal temperature just rose three degrees. Hyperthermia induced by text message. New medical journal entry.
How do you know I'll sound like anything?
Wrong Number:Because you're going to call me. And you're going to touch yourself. And I'm going to listen.
"I need more wine," I announce. "Immediately. Possibly intravenously."
Izzy's already pouring, her face a case study in vicarious thrills. "This is better than my last three relationships combined."
That's presumptuous.
Wrong Number:That's accurate. Call me.
My phone rings immediately.Unknown number.Of course.
"Answer it," Izzy whispers. "Answer it or I swear I'll tell everyone about the supply closet incident."
"That was one time—"
"Answer. The. Phone."
I do. Because my self-preservation instinct is apparently deceased, cause of death: mysterious texter with a voice that should come with a warning label.
"Angel."
One word. Two syllables. His voice is velvet dragged over broken glass—smooth on the surface, dangerous underneath, the kind of sound that makes smart women do catastrophically stupid things. It's controlled right now, measured. I wonder what it sounds like when he loses that control. My panties just filed for workers' compensation due to unsafe working conditions.
"Wrong Number."
"Take off your shirt."
"I have company."
"I don't care."
"You're very demanding for someone who could be a serial killer."
"I told you. I've never killed anyone who didn't deserve it."
"That's still not as reassuring as you think it is."
