Mr. Wrong Number:Did I cross a line? I’m sorry. You make me feel intense and it’s hard to hide that.
Me:No, no! Sorry about that. My friends called. And I would love to see a video of you making that mold of your cock. Please.
Mr. Wrong Number:Oh, yeah? Good. I’ll need you. I have to stay hard the entire time for the cast. Think you’re up for the challenge?
Me:I’m not the only thing that will be up for the challenge.
I snicker to myself, sending a winky face emoji. I’m pretty proud of that reply.
Mr. Wrong Number:Mmmm, I have to go to work first. Now, I can’t stop thinking about what will fall out of that pretty mouth for me. You make it very difficult to focus, you know that?
Me:*bats eyelashes* me? I’m so innocent, sir. Please, have mercy on me.
Mr. Wrong Number:The only mercy you’ll have from me is my handprint on your ass, sweetheart.
Oh. My. God.
I groan, wishing I could feel the warmth of his palm leaving a bright sting.
My phone vibrates again.
Mr. Wrong Number:Do your friends know? About us? I want to tell one of my friends too, but I wasn’t sure what the rules were here. I don’t even know your name.
Me:Let’s wait to meet before we tell each other our names. And they know I’m seeing someone, but I didn’t say who, or how we met. I told them I wanted to keep that to myself for now, which is true. You’re more than welcome to tell your friends whatever you like! And I want you to tell your friends. It makes it feel real. If you want me to tell my friends more, I will, I just didn’t want them to lecture me about talking to a guy whose name I don’t even know.
I chew on my thumbnail, rereading the message I sent and overanalyzing the words. Maybe I shouldn’t have said the last sentence, but I was only trying to be honest. Vic and Amber can be ruthless when it comes to prying information out of me.
The last thing I want is to feel shame about who I’m dating. Well, if they make me feel ashamed, then maybe they aren’t really my friends.
No, that’s not fair. They would just be looking out for me. It’s a reasonable response to finding out someone you care about is sexting a guy and doesn’t even know his name.
“Stop overthinking everything. God!” I take a deep breath, tossing my phone on the counter.
I need to get on with my day. It’s already nine in the morning. I need to get ready to meet the girls, including my mom. I grin,my annoyance with myself softening when I think of my mom being in my best-friend group. I’m lucky. There are so many women out there who don’t have the healthiest relationship with their moms. Mine is my best friend. I wouldn’t know what to do without her. And if I’m going to tell anyone the truth about my mystery guy, she’ll be the first.
My phone dings, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Mr. Wrong Number:It’s real. This is real. I don’t want you to worry about that.
Me:I wasn’t. I meant that when I see you, I want to experience hearing your name for the first time from your lips, in person. It’s the very last detail I want to learn. Everything else makes you who you are. Not your name.
Mr. Wrong Number:I like that. I like you. I like you too much for someone I haven’t seen.
Me:To be fair, you’ve seen more of me than a lot of people have.
Mr. Wrong Number:It better stay that way too. From this moment on, your body, your mouth, your voice, your mind…it’s all mine. You’re mine.
I fan myself, a noticeable warmth spreading across my face. If I were in public right now, anyone would be able to tell what I just read.
Me:Yours? Last I checked, I am in control of my body and what I do with it.
I like this banter. I like giving him a hard time.
Mr. Wrong Number:Whatever you have to tell yourself, sweetheart, but even when you touch yourself, you’ll be thinking of me.
Me:And you think because of that, I’m yours? I don’t think you know about free will. I could go outside right now, naked, and flag down any guy I want.
I would never. I’m not that brazen or brave. And…he’s right.
