Page 7 of Right Number, Wrong Man
My fingers trembling, I type.
Dear Sir and/or Ma‘am,
Please accept my sincerest apologies for my indiscretion. By accident, I sent you some of my intimate home videos and?—
I pause. Does that sound too corporate? This person just watched me ram a dildo into my pussy like a sex-starved maniac and I go all lawyer-speak on them. I mean, who the fuck talks like that? Not even actual lawyers do!
I delete everything I’ve written. When I’m starting over, three dots appear on the left of the screen.
Someone on the other end is typing.
My knees give out. I catch myself on the bed frame before I crumple like a Victorian maiden in a too-tightly laced corset. I always thought those ladies were overdramatic, but it seems peoplecanfaint out of the blue like that. I don’t even need a corset for it.
Unfortunately, I don’t hit my head and die, which would be preferable to the humiliation awaiting me.
Where’s a hole to crawl in when you need one? But the only hole is my pussy staring back at me from the phone screen.
I’m about to puke. Bile burns my throat and I’m choking on air. Folding my clammy hands with the phone between them, I launch into an impromptu prayer.
Dear whoever is in charge up there. Or down there. If you’re out there, please take pity on this desperate, panty-less sinner and smite that stranger’s phone. Wipe the memory. Blow up the battery. Let the world end in a fiery inferno. Send an alien invasion. Anything, okay? Thanks in advance. P.S. Sorry for the nudity if that is against your code or something.
Hopefully that’ll do. I’m not a religious woman, but nothing short of a divine miracle can save me.
My eyes fix on those three dots like they’ll disappear if I look hard enough. When they do, I can’t believe my luck.
Close one.
I let out a breath before fresh anxiety roots itself in my stomach. Now the ball is back in my court, though. Fuck.
I have to saysomething, but nothing too formal. Go for authenticity!
I type without putting too much thought into it and hit send immediately.
Me
Hi! I’m really sorry about those messages and the videos. I thought this number wasn’t in use anymore.
The message status switches to read but nothing happens.
Two minutes and twenty-two seconds pass in agonizing limbo. I know because I count every secondone Mississippi, two Mississippistyle while trying not to vomit.
Okay, this waiting is actuallyworsethan before. I didn’t think this situationcouldget worse, but it sure did.
My ribs are so tight I might have a heart attack and with the numbness creeping into my hands, it could be a stroke, too. At least that would put me out of my misery.
I type out another message, opening myself up to further humiliation by double texting.
Me
I promise I don’t usually send unsolicited pussy vids to strangers. This is horribly embarrassing. Is there anything I can do to make this right?
I won’t be an immature asshole who runs away fromher mistakes, even if taking responsibility means owning up to getting off on dirty texts and freaky home videos.
A thick knot builds in my throat when the three dots reappear. A message follows and my shame turns to anger.
Unknown
Don’t contact this number again or I’m calling the police.
