Sweet Stranger (Sweet Series Book 1) (2 page)

She slid her phone off the table and headed to
the bathroom. Pulling her blouse off over her head, she twisted so
that her side was facing the mirror. Sucked in the slight pooch
over her stomach. Pinched the skin at her waist. Pushed her breasts
up and imagined what she would look like if they were perkier.
Poked and prodded at herself critically. She was vaguely aware that
her distorted perception of her own body had only sent her
confidence careening further downhill. Objectively, Liz knew that
she was decently attractive compared to other women at her
age.

She pulled down her bun and ran her fingers
through her hair until it fanned over her shoulders. Her eyes met
their reflection in the mirror, light brown orbs separated by a
smattering of freckles across her nose. Thick, unruly brown curls
fell just past her shoulder at a length she considered a
low-maintenance hairstyle. Michael hated it when she had it
cut.

Is this what you find disgusting,
Michael?

She gazed steadily into the mirror and raised
her phone to take a picture.

Is it? Well, fuck you.

Liz threw her blouse back on and walked over to
her desk. Once she plugged her phone in, she leaned over and
dragged the file over to the chat message.

SweetStranger: There you
go.

No response. She waited another minute,
drumming her finger against the desk nervously.

Five minutes passed.

Liz felt her heart sink. How could she have
been this stupid? No one wanted to see a topless photo of a woman
in her mid-thirties. He was probably expecting some skinny MILF on
the other end of the chat. By now, her photo had probably been
posted on every social media site, captioned "Desperate housewife
thinks she's hot!"

Anonymous is typing...

Liz jolted forward in her chair, eyes snapping
to the chat box. Embarrassed by her own reaction, she leaned back
and waited.

Anonymous: I'm very tempted to make
this my desktop background.

She smiled. The ice in her chest thawed a
little.

SweetStranger: That's not very
discreet.

Anonymous: I don't care. I'm single.
Did you even read my profile?

SweetStranger: I did. Just so you
know, I'm not one for whips and handcuffs. Sorry to
disappoint.

Anonymous: Have you ever tried
it?

SweetStranger: No.

Anonymous: Husband likes vanilla,
does he?

SweetStranger: A bit too much. Well,
I don't know what he does with the other woman.

Anonymous: Maybe it's time for you
to explore your options as well.

SweetStranger: What if I don't want
to?

Anonymous: Then you don't have to.
I'm only here to give you what you want and deserve.

Liz raised her eyebrows.

SweetStranger: Suave, are
we?

They talked for hours. Liz was surprised to
find that she was enjoying herself, bantering coyly with this
stranger. Their conversation eventually mellowed out to an exchange
of interests and hobbies, many of which they shared. They talked
about Mitch Albom's books, Ricky Martin's music, indie films, and
plans of cross-country hiking. Before she knew it, she lost track
of the time.

Liz was in the middle of typing a response when
she heard the front door slam downstairs. She quickly closed her
laptop, glanced at the clock, and climbed into bed. It was 2 AM.
Michael was due home three hours ago. Realizing that he must have
met Sophia just now, she waited for the pain to hit her, but it
never came. She only heard her heart pounding in her ear from the
fear of being caught when he had returned. She heard him come up
the stairs and listened to the door creak as it opened.

He walked in and the footsteps stopped. Was he
by her desk?

"Seriously?"

Her breath hitched and her heart raced faster.
If he were to open her laptop, he would be able to see all the
raunchy details of the chat, including the topless
picture.

"How long have these lights been on? And she's
sleeping. Running up the damn electricity bill."

Liz exhaled softly. He hadn't seen
it.

Her mind raced as she heard him undress and
slip under the covers. She had actually cheated on her husband, and
she had gotten away with it. Instead of guilt, satisfaction, or
pain, she felt a steady sense of melancholy settle over her at the
irony of the situation. Liz and Michael fell asleep next to each
other, dreaming of other people they would rather be asleep
with.

Anonymous: Hubby treat you
well last night?

SweetStranger: No better
than he would a bed full of men.

Anonymous: Hey, maybe that's
what he's into... you never know. There's no other reason he
wouldn't be interested in a woman like you.

Liz giggled. Jennifer, who was reading
the chat over her shoulder, crossed her arms and
snorted.

"I think I'm gonna puke."

"Wow, Jen. Not all of my chats have to
be as erotic as yours." Liz swiveled around in her chair to look at
her. "Who's your newest conquest? Donald Trump?"

"No, no, no... " Jen held up a finger
and smirked. "Not so fast, Wonder Woman. I'm not done grilling you
about lover boy, yet."

Liz groaned.

"Okay, I'll bite. What do you want to
know?"

"Firstly, how do you two not know each
other’s names yet? It's been five months."

"Discretion."

Jen rolled her eyes. "So you're totally
cool with spilling your heart out to this guy, but your names are
off-limits?

"He calls me 'Stranger' and I call him
'Anonymous'. Does anything beyond that matter? And... the mystery
kinda adds to the thrill of it."

"Kinky."

"Shut up, Jen!" Liz laughed and
pretended to swat her away.

"Okay, Kinky McKinkster. Question
number two: what does he do for a living?"

"He's a stockbroker. Works from
home."

"Um... does this not raise any red
flags for you? You've never seen his face, and he doesn't go out
into public. How do you know he's not a sixty-year-old
creep?"

Liz felt her face grow red. She had
seen him last night when they both turned on their webcams for the
first time... well, everything but his face. He hadn't been lying
about his age or physique on his profile.

The loading screen had disappeared,
replaced by a video streaming a webcam that was being adjusted by a
hand. A slim, lean-muscled man in a black V-necked sweater. But the
camera was pointed at his neck and torso, just below his
face.

SweetStranger: Why can't I
see your face?

Anonymous: It's not much
compared what I'm seeing.

SweetStranger: I could say
the same. I'm dying to know what you look like.

Anonymous: It's more
entertaining for me this way. Let's have some fun now and see how
we are with each other. Stand up and move back.

SweetStranger: Why should I
do that?

Anonymous: Just follow my
commands. Now unbutton your shirt. Good. Seems like you wanted
this... you're wearing black lace lingerie. Now unhook your bra and
take off your pants. Black lace panties as well? I am looking
forward to having you.

He had pulled off his sweater in one
clean motion, giving her full access to his firm, walnut-toned
chest.

Anonymous: Now lie down and
spread your legs. Move your hand down there. Are you
wet?

Liz had nodded.

Anonymous: Wet just from
being watched? I think we can make this work. Now finger yourself.
Imagine being tied and touched against your will... cum to
that.

"He's not sixty."

Her reddening face and her short
reverie didn't escape Jen's notice.

"LIZ!" she shrieked,
drawing dirty looks from people around the cubicle. She lowered her
voice to a stage whisper and continued, "Did you have
webcam sex
with
him
?!"

"Not so loud!" Liz whispered back
urgently. "But... yes, I did."

"Oh my God. Omigod."

"It's not that big of a
deal."

"Yeah, but webcam sex? What are you,
sixteen? Go book a room at the Hilton like your manwhore of a
husband does." Jen shot Liz a disapproving look. "By the way, I'm
very disappointed that you didn't tell me about that right
away."

"Okay, okay... I'm sorry," Liz said,
shifting in her seat uneasily. "I mean, I've tried asking S to meet
up in person."

"And he said no? Hello? Red flags
galore!"

Liz chewed on her bottom lip. He had
seen her face in pictures and on video, but she had no idea what he
looked like from the neck up. She wouldn't even be able to
recognize him if he passed her on the street. Though his refusal
had piqued her curiosity, she hadn't pressed the matter out of
respect for his wishes. In five months, Liz had told him more about
herself than Michael had learned about her over the course of an
eight-year marriage.

"Honestly, I enjoy talking to him more
than anything else. I'd rather never get a look at his face than
not talk."

Jen dropped her jaw dramatically and
ogled at her.

"This is absolutely
mind-boggling. Who you know you sound like? You sound like Jennifer
Garner during her slumber party in
13
Going on 30
."

"I know I've been working out," Liz
replied, flexing her arms. "But I don't quite have the biceps
yet."

"You could give the other Jen a run for
her money, babe. Seriously. If you keep at it, you're going to make
me look like the DUFF."

"Oh please."

Jen laughed. "Back to the point. Why
does it sound like you actually like him?"

"Hang on."

SweetStranger: I'm talking
to Jen right now. Can we talk tonight?

Anonymous: Can't
wait.

"Tell him that you're busy tonight,"
Jen sniffed.

"Why?"

"You promised me you'd come bar-hopping
tonight."

"I did?"

"Yes! Last week!"

"Come on, Jen. You know that's not
really my scene."

"Liz. You need to get laid. My vagina
is weeping for you as I watch you get hotter."

"What if I don't want to get
laid?"

"Why?" she demanded, "Because you'd
rather write love ballads to Prince Charming? The Hunchback of
Notre Dame is probably who you're chatting with."

"He's not a hunchback!" Liz laughed.
"And fine. I'll tell Michael that we're having a girl's night
out."

"Good idea. Oh, right... you've seen
his washboard abs and his di -”

"JEN!"

"Just tellin' it like it is. See you at
nine, babe," she blew her a kiss and left.

Liz sighed. She was not looking forward
to tonight.

Jen popped her head back into the
opening to her cubicle. "And for the love of God, do not show up in
jeans."