Wrong Number

by Lucian Bane

  “Clearly.”

  “Although I can’t imagine a man writing that.”

  “Would you like a sample of my work?”

  “No!”

  “Okay,” he said in light defense. “You don’t like romance with erotica, I get it.”

  “I never said that, I just don’t want a sample. Of yours.”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to read it to you out loud. Unless you want that.”

  “Ew, God, no!”

  “And I don’t write about real people, nor do I write about my personal sexual experiences.”

  “God, stop.”

  “What?”

  “Stop telling me about your… sex stuff.”

  “You mean my non-sex stuff?”

  “Whatever!” she cried. “Sex. Stop. Speaking.”

  “What about you?”

  Sudden silence then a wary, “What about me?”

  “You said you’d tell me something about you.”

  Another sigh. “What do you want to know?”

  He bit his tongue on everything. “A lot of things.”

  “Why?” Like it was weird of him to be interested in her.

  David decided to be brutally honest. “Because I like you.”

  “You like the hypochondriac that frequently calls a suicide hotline for her panic attacks?”

  “Seldomly.”

  “Seldomly what?”

  “You said you seldomly call.”

  “What do you want to know? Specifically.”

  “What you look like is at the top of my list.”

  “Why?” It was another you’re weird to want to know kind of why.

  David decided to call it. “You think it’s peculiar for me to want to know what you look like?”

  “Uhh, yeah? What’s the point of knowing that?”

  “I don’t know. But I still want to see you. Are you going to make me ask for something else? Beg? On my knees?”

  She gave a light snort, but it was the kind that might have come with a smile. And a blush. “Okay, sure. You wanna see me? No biggie. Hold please.”

  David had sat up five minutes prior, but that announcement brought him to his feet. His phone buzzed and he looked down. He hit speaker so he could stare at her picture while talking. “This is you?” He tried not to sound skeptical or hopeful but was sure he failed on both counts.

  “Why?”

  He hurried to “I just want to be sure that you’re not lying and this is actually you.”

  “Why would I lie about that?”

  David was surprised to feel his cock harden at the genuine honesty in her tone. Or possibly it was the picture of the sweet looking brunette with the blue eyes that matched the innocent sincerity he’d come to feel from her in such a short time.

  It was at this point he had a collective revelation from the past fifteen minutes since he’d met Lizzy. Their relationship had taken quite the turn, followed by an exciting momentum.

  “You’re very—”

  “Average, I’m aware.”

  “I wasn’t going to—”

  “You don’t need to worry about my feelings, I’m my worst critic and waaaay over the fact that I’m not the easiest on the eyes.”

  David bit his tongue on several responses, all of them too fast, even with the forward momentum he found himself in with her. But… “I do lie for a living and I happen to be very good at it. I could pay you many compliments if you weren’t easy on the eyes but… I’m happy to not have to play with words to tell you…” He paused and gave a light sigh. “Never mind.”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  “I… It’s not appropriate.”

  “Oh please,” she snorted. “I’m not a child.”

  He suddenly wanted to know if she wasn’t a virgin either. The odds, given everything about her, said she most definitely was. And that… had him in the most unanticipated state of arousal he could’ve imagined being in alone at two something in the morning. “Is this a recent picture?”

  “Well, it’s… it’s like a year old.”

  “Can I have a better one?”

  She gasped.

  “Quality wise,” he said. “This one is pretty pixelated.”

  “I’d rather not send another until you tell me what you think of that one!”

  “I won’t lie to you, not about this. I need a clear picture,” he said, using authority voice.

  “Ugh, fine. But, fair warning, I look like crap.”

  “I don’t care, I want the real deal,” he said, holding firmly to his persistence.

  “Fine. It’s your scarred retinas,” she said lightly.

  David smiled, watching the phone while wondering what she was wearing. Her image came up, and he shook his head. “No. Hold it farther back, it’s too close.”

  “Oh come on! You can see plenty.”

  “The angle is distorted. Your nose looks enormous.”

  “Maybe it is!”

  “Hold it eighteen inches in front of you.”

  Another picture came in and David angled his head at that one. “Perfect.”

  “Perfectly disgusting,” she muttered.

  David sat on his bed, staring at the girl, wondering what kind of secrets hid behind those undefiled blue eyes. Or what had those perfectly shaped lips done so far in life? “Can I have one more?”

  “No! Enough pictures.”

  “I’m single,” he said. “I don’t believe in having a girlfriend while being a writer.”

  “Why are you telling me that?” she cried.

  “I’m sharing something about myself.”

  “I didn’t ask for that.” Like this now indebted her to share more. “And… why would you… I don’t get that?”

  “Get what?”

  “The… no girlfriend while being a writer thing.”

  He considered how to answer that. “I just… find it easier.”

  “For what?”

  “For focusing on my writing without getting… distracted.”

  “Ah. All work and no play makes David a dull boy, I think.”

  “Not in my line of work. Having a girlfriend is dangerous.”

  “Pffft. How in the world is it dangerous?”

  David knew it was wrong to lead the witness, but he couldn’t help it. “You forget what I write.”

  “David, I might be a hypochondriac but I don’t have short term memory loss.”

  “What are you doing?” he wondered, hearing lots of banging.

  “Getting a drink of water, what are you doing?”

  “Laying in my bed. Talking to you.”

  “I should be in my bed.”

  “Talking to me?” Fuck, he was so aroused.

  “No, in bed. Sleeping.”

  Of course. She was too vanilla to imagine what he was. He hated vanilla. Until now.

  “So, what do you mean you can’t concentrate to write? Gosh, I need more snacks. I don’t buy them, or I’ll eat them all at once. But I always want them.”

  “It’s kind of like that with me having a girlfriend.”

  “What is? I mean how? Ugh, carrots it is. Do you like carrots? I love them with Ranch dressing.”

  “I do love carrots. With Ranch. And I can’t have a girlfriend when writing because I can’t stop wanting her.”

  She gave a little huff. “Well, that’s just sweet!”

  Damn. She was going to make him spell it out. And he would. The entire thing had him needing to jack off. “It’s really not sweet. The things I want to do.”

  “Like what,” she wondered, oblivious of the direction he was going.

  “Like… use her in my work.” David reached in his underwear and pulled out his cock, stroking slowly.

  “You mean like… an editor? I’m pretty good at editing, actually. I read books all the time and find mistakes.”

  “Do you?” Perhaps it was his arousal that turned on his genius, he wasn’t sure. “It’s funny, I just fired my editor. Are you free?”

  “Are yo
u serious? Is it a paying position? I guess I could do it after work if it’s not. Unless you need it quick, then maybe not.”

  The unexpected turn of events he’d accidentally created out of thin air, made him sit up and forget about jacking off. “It is a paying position. A very high paying one since I’m my own boss.”

  “You are?” He imagined her wide eyes and perfect lips parted.

  “Yes.”

  “How cool is that?” Crunching sounds filled his ear. “Okay, I confess. I may have dreamed about being a writer once or twice. Or fifty times. And… I took several editorial classes. Online, of course.”

  “Of course. And I could probably help you with that.”

  “With what?”

  “Becoming a writer.”

  “Are you serious?” she cried, believing him whole heartedly.

  “Very. We could barter. You edit for me, I help you become a writer.” And a submissive secretary, fuck what was he doing?

  “Oh my God,” she said around a mouthful of food. “I’ll take it. But I can’t edit the erotica stuff.”

  David was hardly deterred. “Oh. Well… that’s all I write.”

  “Whaaaat?” she whined incredulous. “No way! Don’t you have anything else?”

  David pondered quickly. “I guess I do have some, I just… never thought it was much good.”

  “Like what?”

  At the instant interest, David’s thoughts sped up. “Just a… kind of fantasy.”

  “The romance kind?”

  “Yes,” he said, hearing the eagerness in her tone. “What’s a fantasy without romance?”

  “I always say that!” she cried. “So… would we do this like, by email?”

  “Ohhh,” David said, tapping his finger to his lower lip. “I don’t ever send my work over the internet.”

  “Oh…. The phone?”

  “Nothing electronic. I work from my office, and my editor, well my ex-editor had an office there as well. The position is open if you want to fill it. I can try you out at… $35.00 an hour.”

  Her huge gasp said she’d hit the jackpot. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No, why would I be? Are you kidding me?”

  “Nooo, I’m… I mean I have a job and… $35.00 an hour? What if you don’t like me? My work, I mean?”

  “Then I’d fire you like I did my last editor. I have to say though, you’d be expected to arrive early and stay late. I have a full suite for my editor specifically for those late-night deadlines.”

  “You have deadlines even though you work for yourself?” she wondered, sounding fascinated.

  God, he was robbing the cradle. “Absolutely. You have to if you want to succeed in anything.”

  “I agree,” she said, chomping loudly on her food.

  “When can you start?”

  “Honestly?”

  “For this one thing, yes,” he laughed lightly.

  “I work for my aunt, cleaning houses, and I hate it. She has been literally begging me to find another better paying job. So… immediately, I guess.”

  David could hardly believe how perfect this had gone. But he wasn’t out of the woods yet. “I do have one requirement. To protect my privacy.”

  “Absolutely, anything.”

  “I can’t give you my full real name. I write under a pseudonym.”

  “Ohhhh, right. Why?”

  “Well… my family is really religious and it would do their heads in if they knew what I wrote for a living. And their church. They sort of run several. As well as hold a few political positions,” he threw in for good measure, happy it was true.

  “Wow, right,” she whispered ominously. “That would totally sink their ship. My grandmother was more holy than the Pope and, God rest her soul, if she knew I was working for a man who wrote erotica?”

  “It’s a definite grave roller.”

  He heard slurping then crunching, he guessed her ice now. “So, does anybody know your… real name?”

  “Not outside of my family, no. You have my first real name but that’s all you’ll get. You’ll have to sign a non-disclosure agreement.”

  “Oh, absolutely, sure. Wow.”

  “What?”

  “I just… can you believe I… I accidentally called you and now this?”

  “I was thinking the same thing exactly three minutes ago.”

  “So… is there some kind of… uniform or anything? I mean… do I need to dress a certain way?”

  Christ this was too good. “Just your average… business attire.”

  “Right.”

  “Honestly, I’m not a stickler for clothes. Unless they lend to your job performance in some way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean if how you dress helps you do your job well, then by all means wear that.”

  She sucked in a breath. “I agree. Clothes have a lot of power over our minds. That’s why I like to dress the way I do.”

  “Which is?” David wondered, curious.

  “Well, I wouldn’t dress the way I do now for this job. I just… I guess I see clothes as a form of art. I wear them as an expression of how I’m feeling.”

  “You must have a huge wardrobe.”

  Her burst of cute laughter made his cock jerk. “Not really, I’m just creative with what little I have.”

  “I bet at the far end of your closet you have a collection of just in case ensembles?”

  “I do! And I can’t believe I finally have a reason to wear them!”

  He couldn’t either.

  “Thank you so much for this, David. Oh, wait. How do I know you’re not like… a serial killer or anything? Gotta be smart, my aunt says. Can’t just be trusting anybody like I always do. Yes, I’m one of those,” she explained guiltily. “Sue me for being optimistic about people.”

  “You should listen to her,” he said.

  “Well if I did, I would hire a detective and have you checked out first.”

  “You would, yes. And should.”

  “Well, I don’t have that kind of money, so we’ll have to find some other idea. References?”

  “Hmm. I’m thinking.”

  “Your last girlfriend?”

  The teasing in her tone made him smile. “She’d tell you I was an obsessive, psychotic, fuckaholic.”

  “Errr, k. Well… that really doesn’t have anything to do with you as an employer. So… she may not be the right person to ask. What about your ex-editor?”

  “He’d say I was a ruthless hard-ass with no patience and even less of a soul.”

  “Ouch. Would that be true?”

  “It is when it comes to lazy editors, yes. Which… he was.”

  “I’m definitely not lazy,” she assured. “You may get sick of me finding mistakes. You know how most people’s brains fix problems in sentences? Well, mine does the opposite.”

  “That’s actually a necessity in this job. We sound like the perfect team.”

  “I think so too!” she said, happy.

  “But then you’d be gullible to just believe me.”

  “I would, yes. Isn’t there anybody else that works for you? In person? Or anybody that knows you?”

  David thought quickly. “My lawyer. Burt Jones. Call him, he can vouch for me.”

  “Perfect!” she cried. “So, when do you want me?”

  “Now, actually, but it’s late.” She giggled, thinking he was joking. “With the deadline I have, if you can start first thing in the morning would be more than helpful. Ah damn.”

  “What?”

  “I just realized. My deadline is on a book about to be released. Not the fantasy one. You should probably start later.”

  “How much later?”

  “I usually take a week break between books. So… two weeks? Ah damn.”

  “Now what?”

  “I’ll need to get a new editor before that.”

  “Well… look, I’ll just do both. It’s just fiction, and this is a job, a real profession. That makes a huge differ
ence.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t want you violating your conscience.”

  “Please, it’s not like I’m a saint,” she said then snickered, reminding him exactly of a saint.

  “If you’re positive.”

  “Yep.”

  “In that case, it’d be great to have you first thing in the morning. 8:00 sharp.”

  “Perfect,” she cried. “I’ll call my aunt and let her know!”

  “You’re free to call my lawyer. And I’ll give you the address to give to your aunt in case you turn up missing, they’ll look there first.”

  “Oh, perfect, thank you! That should satisfy her.”

  “It should.” David lay back down on his bed, not ready to hang up with her. He remembered he hadn’t even gotten her age. Judging by that picture, she could have been jailbait. “Do you mind if I ask a few background questions?”

  “Uhhh, sure,” she said, not quite hiding her nerves.

  “Nothing too personal.”

  “I have nothing to hide. Ask away.”

  “Let me grab a pen and paper real quick.” He opened the drawer on his table and pulled out his note tablet, working the pen out of the spiral binding. “I’ll just get the basics, that way we can skip all that in the morning and get straight to work.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Your date of birth?”

  “5-3-80.”

  David did quick math. Twenty-eight. God, could she be a virgin at that age? With his streak of luck, he’d let himself hope. “Criminal record?”

  “None. Well, I did get a fine at the library a couple times when I lost a book which I hardly ever do, but, as fate would have it, I had a panic attack one night at Walmart and I-I lost it somewhere between there and the parking lot as I ran blindly to my car.”

  “You read and shop?”

  “Not really. I mostly use my books as like… life preservers. They make me feel safe.”

  The idea that she would feel unsafe in a Walmart had him extra curious about every Lizzy detail. “Your full name?”

  “Lizzy, not Elizabeth… and please don’t laugh, my mother and father had quite the sense of humor.”

  Lizzy. Not Becky. “I won’t ever laugh at you.”

  “Don’t speak too soon. Lizzy Princess Hammons. Yes, you heard right.”

  He smiled, tickled to death with that. Princess. How perfect. “Sounds like somebody loved their little girl and thought her special.”

  “No, sounds like somebody loved their little girl and forgot she’d grow up and have to deal with their freakish obsession.”