Page 44 of Right Number, Wrong Man
You want me to go to an adult store?!!!
Jax
From your videos I figured you enjoy some grown-up toys.
Why is he always right about everything? All the information he has about me is from my videos, but I can’t shake the eerie feeling that he knows much more than he lets on.
I rest my forehead on the steering wheel.
No, I’m probably just jumpy because Colt almost caught me masturbating last night.
I’ve dreamed of a guy like Jax my whole life. He’s everything I thought Mike would be but never was. Dominant. Decisive. Caring. And generous, apparently.
I don’t want to mess this up because I’m an anxious overthinker.
Who knows when I’ll get another chance to live out my fantasies without judgment? Keeping it to texts and videos is a pretty safe way of doing it. If things get too intense, I can block Jax’s number and move on. He’s far away in Texas, too. Less stalker potential than a local guy.
Sighing, I respond.
Me
Fine. What should I buy?
Jax sends a link and when I tap on it, my eyes go wide.
A deluxe butt plug with a vibrating function and remote-control via an app? Sheesh, now I know why he sent so much money. That’s a lot of cash to shove up one’s ass, literally. Upmyvirgin ass to be precise, and that thing looks big.
Jax
I already called the store. Tell the clerk what you want and she’ll pack it up for you.
My stomach twists into knots. I’ll have to look a stranger dead in the eye and be like,Hey, I want to buy this extra fancy, silver butt plug, please.
To avoid this kind of situation I ordered all my toys online, but Jax is doing this on purpose. I bet he’s getting a kick out of embarrassing me. A wave of wanting cascades through me and I’m starting to think I like it, too. Luckily, the size of Burtonville affords some anonymity and less risk running into somebody I know.
Me
I’ve never tried butt stuff.
Jax
About time then, Sugar. Now git!
Determined, I grab my bag, get out of the car—and freeze.
A passerby glances at me like I havebuttplug-loving-perverttattooed on my forehead in big, bold letters, and I pray for a sinkhole to open up and swallow my panty-lacking self.
No, I got this.
I count down from three and set one foot in front of the other. And another. Another. My stiff legs make me walk like a robot, but I successfully beep-boop across the road.
Once I’m near the store, I rush inside.
My eyes slowly adjust to the red lighting. I sniff, inhaling the scent of vanilla and something fruity, probably from the huge shelf of flavored lube right next to a massive selection of dildos. They even have a tentacle.
Classic rock streams from overhead speakers, mixing with the exaggerated moans from a TV on the wall, showing a porn actress taking it in the ass.
The blond lady at the counter puts down her book andwaves. “Hey, you with the brown bob cut and the flowery dress! Your boyfriend called ahead and told me to expect you.”
