Two.
The soothing spray of hot water blasted against my skin, helping to relieve some of the tension in my neck and shoulders. I’d come home and immediately popped a few tablets of guaranteed sleep and then climbed into bed and closed my eyes. Ten hours later, it was just after midnight, and I was aching from the apparently awkward position I’d passed out in. After my shower, I pulled on a tee-shirt, grabbed a pint of strawberry cheesecake gelato, and got right back into my bed.
I flipped the TV on, and then picked up my phone, which was blissfully free of the hundreds of social media notifications that had plagued me the night before. Chloe, PR guru and good friend, had made me disconnect all of the accounts, and she and her team were managing them for now. There was only one notification on the phone that I actually cared about – a message from Wick.
NoRestForTheWicked: Hope today was better for you.
I smiled, even though it definitely hadn’t.
SleeplessInSanDiego: No such luck .
NoRestForTheWicked: Sorry. You need to talk?
I stared at those words for a few moments before I responded.
SleeplessInSanDiego: yes.
The… friendship, I guess, between me and Wick had started innocently enough, on an online support forum for people who suffered from insomnia. Five years of late night ramblings had eventually turned us into good friends. What we’d done together last night was a relatively new development.
About two years ago, I’d kicked Kellen out. Technically he’d never moved in, but we chose this house together, as one of the last real attempts at repairing our marriage. After signing the papers, he’d insisted on going to his studio, saying he had some creative energy he needed to work out. Later that night, I showed up with dinner and wine, thinking that my spontaneous plans were romantic, and maybe we’d end up working some different energy out.
I walked in on Crystal sucking his dick.
So… yeah.
For me, that was the end of that.
I didn’t make a scene, didn’t curse them out. I didn’t even let them know I’d seen, because what would have been the point? What would have changed?
Instead, I took my ass back to my dream house, with all the perfect finishings I’d chosen, and imagined living there alone… which wasn’t very hard.
That realization was what brought the tears, and eventually, the phone call to Wick, that I still vividly remembered.
“He hates me,” I whispered into the phone to Wick, a few hours after yet another blatant betrayal, my voice raw from screaming and crying. “That’s why he can do things like this, with no guilt, no remorse. I can’t keep pretending otherwise.”
On the other end of the line, Wick sighed. “Cheating can mean a lot of things, Sandy. Not necessarily that he hates you. He married you. Didn’t you say you were college sweethearts?”
“Yeah. But who he is now, isn’t who he was then. He lost that finance job, and just… became somebody else. He was charming, and dynamic, and driven, and he just… he had his shit together. After that job loss? All he wanted to do was sit around wearing a damn hole in my couch. And I let him – I didn’t bother him, didn’t push, because I wanted to give him space to feel whatever the fuck he needed to feel, but while he did that, I was grinding. Which… is part of the problem.”
“Why would that be a problem?”
“Because I didn’t need him. I paid the bills. I built my business, I got investors, and I didn’t tread water, waiting for him to pull himself up. And… I thrived. I ignited, while he fizzled, and he resents me. I can feel it, even when he’s pretending to be Mr. Wonderful. It’s contrived. I um… my business… it got featured in a pretty important business magazine – a magazine he told me, back when were sophomores in college, that he wanted to be on the cover of.”
“That sounds like something to be proud of, Sandy.”
I let out a dry chuckle. “It is. I mean… for most men, it would be. But when I told him about it, all excited… he never even said congratulations. No, “that’s amazing sweetie,” nothing. He couldn’t even pretend. That was almost a year ago, and he hasn’t touched me since then. I’ve offered, he declines. And I’d been wondering, you know… how is this man willingly depriving himself of sex, for so long? And now I know… he wasn’t depriving himself at all. Just me.”
“I… wow.”
“I’m sorry.” I shook my head as I squeezed my eyes shut, silently cursing myself for heading down this line of conversation at all. But I was… exhausted. And hurt.
“Don’t be.” Wick’s voice was authoritative, leaving no room for me to argue back. “We’re friends. And if you can’t go to your friends to vent your frustrations, where the hell could you go?”
I busted out laughing at his passing reference to a popular meme. “You’re crazy,” I told him, and then raised the bottle of wine I’d been drinking from for the past hour, draining the last drops down my throat.
“I’ll be that, for the desired result – getting you to laugh. Do you feel better, now that you’ve talked it out?”
My laughter turned into a heavy sigh. “Yes and no? I’m exhausted now, and I have a headache from crying, but I already know sleep is not coming easily for me tonight. I need a good orgasm – the kind I haven’t had in years. I bet that would put me right out.”
“You should go for it. I know it helps me.”
Another sigh.
“I’m not even in the right frame of mind. Besides, they’re only so good alone.”
“But you’re not alone.”
Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the time of night. Maybe it was the deep, sexy timbre of his voice, soothing my raw, frazzled edges. Maybe it was all of the above, plus some. Whatever it was, those words didn’t sound crazy to my ears.
They sounded like respite.
I swallowed hard, then lifted my gaze to the mirror on the wall, taking in my disheveled, red-eyed appearance – a direct contradiction to what I always presented to the world. I didn’t want to be the woman scorned, who was more committed to her business than her marriage, who hated the way her husband looked at her made her feel about herself.
I just wanted release.
“Talk me through it?”
“Yeah.”
That response came easily.
“You sure your wife or girlfriend won’t mind?”
He chuckled. “If I had either of those, this conversation wouldn’t be where it is right now.”
“Right.”
I felt silly about it – maybe even pathetic – but that small declaration of fidelity actually turned me on.
“Why?” I asked, at risk of turning the conversation away from the path that would lead to my relief. “We’ve never talked about anything like this, hinted at it. You don’t even know what I look like. Why now?”
“Because you and your late-night soul voice have talked me to sleep plenty of nights.”
I giggled. “Late night soul? What does that even mean?”
“You know what it means. All soothing and sensual.”
“Wow,” I said, heat rising to my cheeks. “Glad someone thinks so.”
“Well, now you know. Now put your hand in your panties, and tell me how that pretty pussy feels on your fingertips.”
Everything shifted. My breath hitched in my throat, thighs clenched, as a man who I’d long thought about in abstract terms, though we spoke often, became something else. Something… real.
I did what he said.
I was already wet, just from anticipation. I sucked in a breath as my fingers made contact with my slick, sensitive skin.
“Tell me how it feels. Tell me how wet you are.”
I closed my eyes, moaning a little as I pushed my middle and index fingers through my wetness, letting them sink into me. “Dripping. It feels good.”
“Just “good”? What can I do about that?”
“Just keep talking,” I whispered, as I pulled out and sank in again, enjoying the way my body clenched around my fingers, trying to keep them in. “Your voice… it…”
“Ahhh,” he chuckled. “I must have a little of that quiet storm action too, huh?”
I half-giggled, half-moaned as I stroked myself again. “Yeah,” I breathed, and Wick groaned into the phone.
“You sound really fucking sexy right now, and I want to hear every filthy sound that pretty mouth makes, okay?”
“How do you know it’s pretty? How do you know my pussy is pretty?”
“Has to be. With a mind like yours, and a voice like yours, it’s the only logical deduction, Sandy. You have a mirror close by?”
I glanced up, at the mirror on the wall. “Yeah, but…”
“Take your panties off. Take everything off.”
“But I’m holding the phone.”
“Put in your earbuds.”
No room for question. No room for rebuttal.
I did what he said.
“Can you see yourself?”
“Not completely.”
“Then get where you can.”
Taking the phone with me, I moved to the front corner of the bed. From there, at that angle, I could see myself. But I didn’t want to. Why would I, when my own husband didn’t either?
“Open your legs, Sandy. Watch the way you look when your fingers sink in. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
I averted my gaze instead. “Um… yeah, I guess.”
“Wrong answer. You must not be looking.”
“I was.”
“Then you’re using the wrong set of eyes. So… close them. And just play.”
Again, I did as I was told. Shutting my eyes allowed me to go back to the place I was in before, of feeling without thought. After a few minutes, he demanded I open my eyes, and this time…
Whoa.
“I’m guessing you see it now,” came that warm rumble in my ear again, rife with amusement. “I bet you look so fucking good right now.”
“I… do,” I responded, sounding surprised even to my own ears. In the dim lamplight, my skin was like burnished gold, my bright blue manicured nails like sapphire as I played with my nipple with one hand, and stroked myself with the other. The hair I’d seen as disheveled read as sexy now – wild and free around my shoulders, the honey blonde at the ends making it resemble a lion’s mane. The thick, curvy body that Kellen viewed with such disdain? Lush, and comfortable.
“Good,” Wick crooned into my ear. “Now put those fingers between your other pretty lips, and tell me how you taste.”
It was like he had me on puppet strings. There were no first, or second thoughts, just my fingers in mouth, tasting my own arousal.
“Like ecstasy.”
“Yes,” he growled. “That’s what I want to hear. Get those fingers wet, and play with your clit. You’re already playing with your nipples?”
“Yes.”
“Pinch harder. Play harder. Make yourself cum. I want to hear it.”
I let him.
By the time he gave me those instructions, my body was already humming, and that was just the permission I needed to push myself over the edge. With Wick’s voice in my ear – grunts and groans that gave me fair certainty I wasn’t the only one chasing an orgasm – I worked myself into a climax that snatched the breath from my lungs, leaving me panting as I collapsed back on the bed, thighs clenched tight, with my hand still between my legs.
When I could hear again, heavy, contented breathing in my ears assured me that Wick had reached the same phenomenal release as I had, and I let a big, exhausted smile spread over my face.
“Well… that was interesting,” I told him, dragging myself up onto the bed so that my legs had room to stretch out.
Wick chuckled. “Yeah… I guess that’s one way to put it. I hope my joining you wasn’t too much of a creep move. You sounded so—”
“No, it’s fine,” I interrupted, suddenly feeling… embarrassed? “It actually made me feel like less of a creep myself… asking you to do something like that.”
“It was more like I offered. So you shouldn’t feel any kind of way, except good. Sated. Relaxed. Do you?”
I bit my lip to hide a smile he couldn’t even see. “All of the above. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Glad I could help.”
And now here we were. I didn’t “really” know him, and he didn’t “really” know me. But he knew me better than almost anybody else.
When the phone chimed to let me know he was initiating a call, I pressed the button to answer and then put the phone to my ear.
“Who I gotta fuck up today?” Wick asked, and I laughed a little as I shook my head.
“While I appreciate the sentiment, that’s not necessary. I got myself into this particular mess. And now… I guess I have to pay the price. I chose him.”
“Ah. That motherfucker again. Your husband.”
I grunted. “Well, I prefer not to call him that, even though everyone else does. He has a new title now anyway – baby’s father.”
There was silence on the line for a second, and then, “Wow. You’re pregnant?”
“No.”
Silence again. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Fuck him. I should be past the point where he can even still hurt me anyway, but… whatever. Soon enough, something is going to have to give. I… I can’t live like this anymore.”
Silence.
“Are you okay?”
“I…” my breath hitched in my throat as I tried with everything I had to make my mouth form the word yes.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to be.”
Good. Because…
“I’m not.”
After that, I couldn’t hold back. One sob broke free from my throat, and then they all came pouring out until I was snot-nosed and red-eyed, and my neck hurt.
“Talk to me, Sandy,” Wick said after a while, and I sniffled as I tried to calm myself down.
“Give me a second.”
I climbed out of bed to get a cool towel for my face, cringing at my red-rimmed eyes in the mirror. I looked exactly how I felt – a fucking wreck. I took a few seconds to clean my face and calm down before I went back to the phone, hoping Wick hadn’t hung up.
“Hello?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” he rumbled in response, and a contented sigh escaped my lips.
“Sorry about that.”
“No need to be sorry. Go get on your computer, so I can see you. See for myself that you’re fine.”
I scoffed. “I don’t see how an orgasm would make me feel any better.”
“Did I say anything about that? Come on. Don’t even change, just show me you’re alive and well… not hurting yourself. Nothing like that.”
Inaudibly, I sucked in a breath.
“Okay.”
A glance at the side of the bed told me my bag from work was still there, so instead of trekking down to my office, where I usually went, I got up and retrieved my laptop. It took me a second, since that specific computer was one I used for work, and had never connected to my home network before. But after a few minutes, I was on-screen from the chin down, looking at a similar view of Wick.
“Hey,” he chuckled. “Blakewood is my alma mater. Not telling what year though, you already tease me about being old.”
Even though he couldn’t see me, I grinned at the screen, about to retort that I’d graduated from there over a decade ago too, but my screen name in the corner halted my tongue.
SleeplessInSanDiego had been created in the wee hours of the morning, after a particularly grueling thirty-two hours without sleep. I was, indeed, in San Diego at the time, on a trip, but I certainly didn’t live there.
That was the impression Wick had though.
An impression that I let stand, in the same way I let him call me Sandy, and I called him Wick. Those weren’t our names, and San Diego wasn’t my city. We were friends, but we’d never seen each other’s faces. He didn’t know the name of my company or what I did, only that I was an entrepreneur. I’d never even mentioned Kellen’s name either, as much as I’d revealed otherwise about that situation. It was all an effort to maintain anonymity – something that honestly helped me value him even more as a friend.
He knew the real me, without knowing the real me.
It was refreshing.
“No, I’m not doing any teasing today. I might drink a whole bottle of bourbon though,” I said, deflecting the possibility he might want to dig further into my Blakewood shirt. It was a popular enough HBCU that tons of people, not just alumni, wore them.
Wick chuckled. “Whew. Trust me, you’re not going to find what you’re looking for at the bottom of a bottle of brown liquor. Wick did that so you wouldn’t have to go through that.”
“Okay, because I was going to say, that sounds like experience talking.”
“Too much experience,” he confirmed. “Ten years sober.”
My eyes went wide. “Wow. You’ve never told me that before.”
“Never had cause. But, if you’re thinking about hard liquor to self-medicate, beyond a couple of glasses… please allow me to steer you in a different direction. I started drinking to forget what I’d lost, and almost ended up losing the things I had left. That’s not what you want. You’re smart, successful, funny, beautiful. Don’t let him make you lose sight of that.”
I smiled again. “There you go with that again, calling me beautiful like you’re so sure.”
“Because I am,” he insisted, swiping his chin. “I told you a while ago, a voice like that…”
“Oh whatever. You’re just saying it… because it’s true.”
“Finally, she confirms it,” Wick laughed, and I couldn’t help joining in, before a bittersweet feeling settled in my chest. In another world, another place, another time… I could’ve married a man like this. Someone who made me laugh, and feel good about myself. Someone who was still the man that Kellen used to be.
“Hey, Sandy… are you… are you trying to access my computer?”
Wick’s tone shifted, from laughing to something serious that made an uneasy feeling wash over me.
“What? I don’t even know what that means.”
“Hold on…”
My heart started beating a little faster as I heard the furious tapping of a keyboard from the other end of the line, punctuated every now and then by a low, “what the fuck?”
“Your computer,” he said out loud, to me. “You have some type of hyper-aggressive security on it or something?”
I frowned. “Huh? This is my work computer, not the one I usually use, in my office. So… it has whatever my assistant put on there, I guess. Why?”
“Wait, you’re using a different computer? Connected an outside computer to your network?” he asked, in a way that made it very clear there was something wrong with that.
“I… yeah. My laptop that usually stays at my office, but I don’t understand—”
“Sandy,” he interrupted sharply. “Is your mic on, on the laptop?”
“No, it’s muted, since we’re talking on the phone.”
“Maybe,” he muttered, then pushed out a sigh. “Alright, listen to me. Turn off your laptop, now.”
I was confused, but I did as he asked, even though my mind was overflowing with questions. “Okay, now what?”
“Now I need you to go in your office, and unplug your computer, your modem, your router, everything.”
“My computer isn’t even on right now though.”
“Sandy, just do it,” he demanded, and I sucked my teeth.
“I’m not doing anything until you tell me what the hell is going on!”
“You’re being hacked,” he shot back. “I’m watching it happen now, because whoever is doing it tried to access my computer while we were connected.”
I shook my head. “What? What do mean you’re watching it? We aren’t connected anymore.”
“Whoever tried it didn’t know who they were fucking with,” Wick answered, with an arrogant edge that made me frown. “I hacked their asses back, but they don’t know. There was probably a trojan horse on your work computer. As soon as you gave it access to your home network, you gave access to everything.”
“How do you even know this?!” I demanded. “Who the fuck are you?”
“We gotta get off the phone, Sandy. If you’re on your home wifi, they’re probably in that too. But listen - get a pen or something so you can write this down,” he said, ignoring my question.
Still feeling flustered and confused, I grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper from the notepad I kept by the bed to jot down new polish names that I thought of in the middle of the night. I took down the business name and address he gave me, then stared at it for several long moments.
“Tomorrow,” he told me, in a rushed tone. “Take all your stuff there, your laptop, your phone, your computer. He’s an old colleague of mine, and I trust him. Tell him you need any spyware, keystroke loggers, all of that, gone. And depending on what kind of information was on your work computer, maybe the police.”
“Who should I tell him sent me?” I asked, trying to stay calm. “What’s your name?”
“You don’t need that. Just tell him what you need to be done. We gotta get off this line, okay? And don’t discuss anything sensitive on this phone until you’ve had it looked at, alright?”
I scoffed. “I don’t know if this—”
“Alright?”
I let out a short huff. “Alright. Fine.”
“Okay. And Sandy?”
“Yeah.”
“… stay safe.”
The total silence after that told me that he’d hung up the line, after delivering two words that left me feeling the exact opposite of the sentiment. I dropped the phone and looked around, suddenly feeling as if I was being watched – a sensation that only intensified when I looked at the address he’d given me again.
It was in my city.
How the fuck did he know where I lived? And if he knew that, there was another question – how long had he known?
Suddenly, the security of my home felt nonexistent. I pushed everything out of my lap and raced to my bedroom door, flipping the flimsy lock. That was okay though – I just needed it to hold long enough to snatch a pair of yoga pants and sneakers on, then retrieve the loaded gun from the drawer in my bedside table.
My obsession with learning to shoot, insistence on having a gun since I was living alone suddenly seemed a little less paranoid.
With my cell phone in my pocket, and my gun at eye level, I left my room, heading straight for my office. The house was dark, but I didn’t need light to make my way around. At the door to my office, I took a deep breath, not knowing what I’d find. I carefully turned the doorknob and pushed the door open slowly, stopping when I realized how much light was coming from inside.
The computer was on.
It wasn’t supposed to be.
Throwing caution to the wind, I shoved the door open, pointing my gun directly at the chair behind my desk. To my relief, it was empty – the whole room was empty, but the computer was on, and when I peeked at the screen, it was filled with steadily running, nonsensical lines of code.
Remembering what Wick had said, I unplugged everything, pushing out a sigh as it powered down, blanketing the room in quiet and darkness.
But I didn’t feel settled.
Who the hell would want to hack me, of all things? I made nail polish for a living, I didn’t have state secrets, or bomb schematics. But for someone to have access to something that was mine, and use it to access my home computer, which was even more personal… it was a violation, of the deepest sort.
And then there was Wick… now, I suddenly felt a need to know who, really, this man was. Hacking a hacker back? What regular person had a skillset like that?
And there was still the question of how the hell he knew where I was.
My tee shirt wasn’t nearly good enough.
Blowing out a sigh, I pulled the phone from my pocket and dialed a familiar number.
“Hey,” I said, relieved when my call was answered. “I hope you’re not busy?”
“No… but it’s late,” Chloe said, her voice thick like I’d woken her. “What’s going on?”
“Well, for starters… I need somewhere to stay tonight. I don’t feel safe at home.”