Sex me, Stranger

The next morning I moved through my routine like a ghost in my own life. I dressed carefully for the shop, choosing a soft wrap dress that hugged my curves in all the places I had grown to doubt. For once I left my hair down instead of pulling it back into a practical ponytail. Small acts of defiance against the numbness that had settled over me.

At the fashion design shop I owned with two other women, I lost myself in the rhythm of work. Fabric swatches, measurements, quiet conversations with clients. For a few hours I could pretend I was still the vibrant woman who had built this place from nothing. Sarah, my assistant, complimented the dress and I felt a genuine smile touch my lips. It was the first real one in days.

But the phone in my pocket kept buzzing.

At first I ignored it, thinking it was Marcus with another short message about his schedule. When I finally checked during a quiet moment between clients, my stomach tightened.

Unknown: That dress looks incredible on you. The way it wraps around your waist and falls over your hips. You should wear clothes like that more often.

My fingers froze on the screen. I was standing near the large front window of the shop. How could he know what I was wearing? I glanced outside but saw only the usual street traffic and a few pedestrians. No one lingered. No obvious watcher.

Me: Stop this. This isn't funny.

Unknown: I'm not trying to be funny, Isabella. I'm trying to make you feel what you deserve to feel. Desired. Seen.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket and tried to focus on the rest of the day. But the messages continued arriving at perfect intervals. Each one more personal than the last. He described the way I tucked my hair behind my ear when I was thinking. The way I bit my lower lip while sketching new designs. Details no stranger should know.

By the time I locked up the shop in the early evening, my hands were trembling. Part of me wanted to block the number. Another part, the lonely part I tried so hard to ignore, kept re reading every word he had sent.

The house was empty when I got home. I kicked off my shoes and poured myself a glass of white wine. The silence wrapped around me again, heavier than the night before. I changed into comfortable lounge clothes, a loose tank top and soft shorts that barely covered my thighs. Then I curled up on the couch with my sketchbook, trying to lose myself in work.

The messages started again as soon as I settled in.

Unknown: You're home now. I like the way those shorts ride up when you sit. They show off your legs beautifully.

I looked toward the living room windows. The curtains were drawn but not completely. A small gap remained. My heart began to race. I stood up and closed them fully, then double checked the locks on every door.

Me: How do you know these things? Are you watching me?

Unknown: I see you, Isabella. I notice everything about you because you matter to me. Unlike him.

As if on cue, I heard Marcus's key in the front door. He stepped inside carrying his briefcase, his tie already loosened. He looked tired, distant, the same expression he had worn for months.

"Hey," I said softly, standing up from the couch. "You're home early for once."

He nodded and set his things down. "Long day. I'm going to grab a shower and some food then head back to the office. Deadline is killing me."

I walked over to him and placed my hand on his arm. "Can we talk for a minute? I've missed you. The kids are gone and the house feels so empty."

Marcus gave me a quick kiss on the forehead, the kind you give a child or a distant relative. "Not tonight, Bella. I'm exhausted. We'll talk this weekend."

He moved past me toward the stairs without another glance. No comment on my appearance. No touch that lingered. Nothing. I stood there in the hallway feeling more invisible than ever. The emptiness inside me grew until it felt like a physical weight.

My phone buzzed again while Marcus was in the shower.

Unknown: He doesn't deserve you. Look at how he walks past what he should be worshipping. If you were mine I would never let you feel like that.

Tears stung my eyes. I carried my wine upstairs to the bedroom and closed the door. The sound of the shower running down the hall felt like another rejection. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the phone. My thumbs moved before I could stop myself.

Me: I don't know who you are but you have no idea what my life is like.

Unknown: I know more than you think. I know how neglected you feel. How your body aches for touch. How you touch yourself at night when he leaves you alone.

Heat flooded my face. I should have been terrified. Instead a dark thrill ran through me. My nipples tightened against the thin fabric of my tank top. Between my legs I felt myself growing wet.

Me: This is wrong.

Unknown: Does it feel wrong when I tell you how beautiful you are? How I would kiss every inch of that soft stomach you try to hide? How I would worship between your thighs until you couldn't remember your own name?

I lay back on the bed, breathing faster. My free hand moved down my body almost involuntarily, slipping under the waistband of my shorts. I was already soaked. My fingers found my swollen clit and began slow circles as I read his next message.

Unknown: That's it. Touch yourself for me, Isabella. Imagine my hands instead of yours. My mouth. My tongue tasting how sweet you are.

A soft moan escaped my lips. I pushed two fingers inside myself, thrusting slowly while my thumb continued working my clit. The phone buzzed again.

Unknown: You're so responsive. I can almost hear those pretty sounds you're making. Don't stop. Let me take care of you the way he never does.

I spread my legs wider, pumping my fingers faster. The pleasure built quickly, sharper and more intense than it had been in months. His words kept coming, each one pushing me closer to the edge.

Unknown: Come for me, beautiful. Let go. Show me how badly you need this.

My body obeyed. The orgasm crashed over me hard and sudden. I pressed my face into the pillow to muffle my cry as waves of pleasure rolled through me. My thighs trembled and my inner muscles clenched around my fingers. For those few seconds I felt alive, desired, seen.

When I finally caught my breath I picked up the phone again with shaky hands. There was one new message waiting.

Unknown: Good girl. That was only the beginning. Sleep well. I'll be thinking about you all night. Tomorrow we go deeper.

I stared at the ceiling, my body still humming with aftershocks. Guilt tried to creep in but the loneliness pushed it away. Marcus was still in the shower, oblivious as always. For the first time in a long time I did not feel invisible.

I felt wanted.

And that feeling was becoming far more dangerous than I wanted to admit.