Page 2 of Filthy Messages: Stalker Alert!

Gia

I look at my phone with a sinking feeling. In my exhausted haze, did I even save the right number? It’s been ten days since I had a day off. My boss enjoys two days off a week and loves to take credit for my work. He speaks to me as if I’m an imbecile and is utterly shameless when it comes to the executive team. It never fails to amuse me when I watch him stick his head up their asses.

I rummage through my purse, pulling out receipts, a tampon, lip gloss—a cookie? Shaking my head, I leave it on the table.

Where is it?

I pull out some sanitary towels encased in a lovely floral purple pattern. I notice a woman looking at me. when I make eye contact, she quickly looks away. I don’t blame her. Even with two large coffees in me, I must look like the walking dead. Never mind all the shit I have just piled onto the table.

“Ah-hah.”

I lift the piece of paper I was looking for, opening it up and ignoring the cookie crumbs falling on the table.

I compare the numbers, and I’m one digit out. Instead of Simone, I got a short-tempered horny weirdo. Actually, he sounded like Simone, but some fucked up male version.

I quickly saved her number, double-checking the digits this time.

Me: 13:50 Where are you? You skanky bitch?

Simone: 13:51 My fucking car broke down. Arthur is a cunt.

I smile at her car name. Who would name their car Arthur?

Me: 13:51 Thanks for letting me sit here in a bar like a saddo waiting for you.

Simone: 13:53 You can’t guilt trip me. I’ve been waiting out here in the wilderness for someone to collect my car.

Me: 13:53 I was looking forward to seeing you.

Simone: 13:54 Me too. You need to tell your boss to fuck off. I don’t know why you take his shit. I’m sorry, I can’t make it, honey.

I sigh. At least I got out of the house. She is the only friend I have. I tend to blurt things out that people don’t like to hear. It’s why Simone loves to watch my awkwardness among other people. She said I’m her entertainment. She is just as outspoken as me, which is why we get on so well.

Me: 13:55 It’s fine. We can do this in another two weeks when I get another day off.

Simone: 13:56 Oh, the recovery van is pulling up. He looks hot. Gtg.

I snigger at my phone. I wish I had my friend’s confidence.

My eyes go to the other number. I change the contact name to Filthy Fucker. I stare at our exchange. My mind flickers back to the last pair of balls I saw. It’s been a long, long time.

He doesn’t know me. I can be anyone I want. My eyes wander over the mountain of shit that came out of my purse. I need to get a life.

Me: 14:03 That would take up a mere twenty seconds of my afternoon. Twenty seconds of my life I won’t ever get back. It hardly seems worth the effort for a hook-up.

I put my phone on the table and began to sort the rubbish on the table. I saw the notification pop up on my screen. I always have my phone on silent, and I hate speaking on the phone. It stresses me out. People stress me out.

Filthy Fucker 14:07 It sounds as if you’ve never been fucked properly. I can fuck for hours when the mood suits me.

I frown at the message. That can’t be possible. I might need to ask Simone. If anyone will know if that is true, she will.

Me: 14:09 Sure. I’m a 5ft 10” size zero supermodel with a set of DD’s.

Filthy Fucker: 14:10 They are the worst. They have too many hang-ups to let themselves go during a fuck. I prefer a woman who is robust enough to take everything I can give her.

My mouth goes dry, but my pussy is anything but dry. I look at the purple sanitary pad on the table. It would have been handy in my pants right now. I’ve been working so hard on fixing the coding in the new app that I’ve not even had time for my poor, neglected flower.

I take a screenshot of his contact name and send it to him. It’s only fair he knows what I think of him.

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