BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!
My cell phone buzzed as it lay on the dresser, which was positioned next to my bed. Often I used my dresser as an end table, a place to hold my phone and other objects as I sleep. Simply by hearing the tone of my phone, I realized that I just received a text message. Curiosity driven I lifted my phone from its position on the dresser and looked at the illuminated screen.
“Hmm,” I moaned, not recognizing the number that was displayed on the phone’s screen. I opened the text message. It read: I hope this isn’t too forward of me, just thought I’d contact you. “What?” I asked myself in confusion, my fiancée sitting next to me.
“What’s that?” She asked, lifting her eyes from the book that she was reading silently to herself. With a single look at her facial expression, I can see she was only slightly interested in the message that I received.
“I got some random text message, look.” I responded. With my phone in hand, I reached out to her, giving her access to the phone. Her facial expression changed to pure confusion with a mix of curiosity.
“You don’t know the number?” She asked me, looking into my eyes.
“No, not that I know of,” I answered, my face twisted with inquisitiveness.
After returning back to the pages of her book, my fiancée retorted, “Just delete it, it’s probably a wrong number. Silence fell between us as I stared at the number once more. Do I not know this number? I wanted to ensure that the number was indeed foreign to me. I wonder whose it is. Could be a family member whose phone number has changed? Or is it her? My Ex had contacted me before. Now, I wonder if she had contacted me from a new number so that I couldn’t recognize her.
I opened the message once more and re-read the message. I typed a simple, often over-used message: Who’s this?
New message: My name is Jen, I’m in town visiting my sister and I’m bored. I’m looking to have a good time with a fun loving guy. What’s your name? How would you like to meet up?
Before I finished reading the newly received text, I was presented with series sexually explicit photos of a young girl in her early-to-mid-twenties. I couldn’t help but see the photos. Yet, I found myself leering at the photos.
I sent a message: My name is Samuel, thank you for the photos. I really appreciate it. How can I help you?
I looked over at my fiancée. Her face was buried in a book; her face was always buried in a book. As I sent the text, I felt a knot in my gut. My adrenalin was running through my veins. With every moment that passed I felt my excitement increase.
New Message: I’m just looking for a good time. I was talking to one guy online; I guess he gave me the wrong number. What a loser. Wait, do you have a girlfriend?
I looked over at my fiancée as I read the message. She had no clue that I was even there, much less talking to this girl. I looked down at the message in my phone. I scrolled up slightly, looking at the beautiful pictures that were sent to me.
I sent another message: Actually, I have a fiancée. What are you looking to do? I don’t think I’m the guy you’re looking for, but thank you for the pictures. I appreciate it.
I set the phone down on the couch, right at my side. I shifted my eyes around the room as my mind roamed through a series of thoughts: what are you doing? Your fiancée is sitting right over there. Are you really considering this? Well…we’re just talking. There’s nothing wrong with talking. And you did tell her you have a fiancée. You’re just letting her down nicely.
New message: Yes, I’m looking for some fun while I’m in town. My sister works a lot and I’m bored. My sister’s place is always available. Let me know when you’d like to meet up.
Are you kidding? She’s still willing to meet up? After I told her that I was engaged to be married? That’s unbelievable……..that’s interesting…….
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. I tucked my phone under my thigh, hoping to ignore the photos that rested in my text messages. I knew I needed to delete them, but I didn’t. I couldn’t tell you why, I just didn’t.
I lifted myself off of the couch and headed to my bedroom. I can’t respond back to her, I need to get ready for work. I lied to myself as I distracted myself by rummaging through my closet for a new set of clothes to wear. I tried to sort my thoughts. I tried to keep my mind on the task that’s in front of me, but my thoughts were scattered.
“Honey, are you getting ready for work?” I heard a delightful voice ask from the living room. In my mind I could see my dark haired beauty lifting her gaze from the pages of her book to look to the shut bedroom door.
I stood in the bathroom, which was attached to the bedroom. I looked into the eyes of the man in the mirror. I didn’t recognize him. My hands were rested on the outer rim of the sing. In one hand I gripped my toothbrush; in the other hand I held a tube of toothpaste.
“Yes,” I bellowed from the bathroom, my mouth filled with a mixture of toothpaste and water. I shoved the toothbrush into my mouth and continued to brush. I finished in the bathroom and threw on my clothes. While collecting my keys, wallet and my wrist watch, I shoved my phone into my pocket.
“Hey, babe, how’s your book?” I asked, emerging out of the bedroom, prepared for my day at work. I leaned in for a kiss. I received one from my love. “I love you,” I whispered into her ear, leaning over her lovingly.
“I love you, too.” She responded, looking up at me with a smile.
“I better head out. I’ll see you when I get back.” I shifted my keys in my hand as I headed toward the door. As I entered into my car, retrieved my phone from my pocket and placed it in the cup holder beside me. With the engine running I looked down at the phone.
The photos are still there. Go ahead and take a look. It’s okay.
I reached out toward the phone, just stopping short of grabbing it and pulling it out of the cup holder. I could imagine the photos; I didn’t need to open the messages of my phone.
It’s okay to text her; no harm will come from it. You’re just having a conversation; you’re not cheating or anything. You’re just being cordial.
I hesitated once more.
No, I can’t. I thought to myself with my hand inches away from my phone and a mental file of inappropriate photos stored in my memory. I retrieved my hand from its current position and tightly gripped the steering wheel. I drove away, my eyes on the road, yet my attention on the contents of my cell.
BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!
New message: Hey, you didn’t answer. Where’d you go?
Once stopped at a red light I was able to read my newest text message. I truly hoped that my beautiful fiancée was messaging me to wish that I’d have a great day I work. She often did that. Yet, upon looking at the message from the unknown women of “adventure” I thought to myself. What should I say? What should I do? Do you think she’s serious?
I text back: I’m here.
I couldn’t set my phone down. I impatiently awaited her response. I sat in the parking lot outside. I thumbed through our messages; uncertainty filled my chest, quickly followed by the excitement of the playful messages.
New message: When are you free?
My heart began to pound heavily in my chest as I looked at the phone, thinking through my response.
I messaged: When are you free? When would you like to get together?
This will never happen. We’re just friendly flirting. I know that nothing with come from this. I wonder how far she’s willing to take this. Oh, my goodness, this is actually really fun.
I worked through my day, my mind filled with the playful game. Every so often I would check my phone, hopping to hear from my anonymous playmate. My nerves were on edge. My excitement was turned up and my curiosity was peaked by the simple idea of the game.
New message: Babe, I’m free anytime. I’m staying with my sister and she is always busy, it leaves me really lonely.
As I opened by the message, I felt my phone vibrate in my palm, indicating that I received another message. According to the pop-up text on my screen, I noticed that my fiancée sent me message, but it automatically closed before I could read it all.
New message: Hey honey, I forgot to remind you that tonight I’m having dinner with my cousin. I’ll be home late. I’ll text you if I need anything. Have a great night. I love you.
She often has dinner with her cousin. They meet together usually once a month and they usually are out pretty late. Thankfully she reminded me, I usually forget.
New message: Are you free tonight? My sister will be gone all night.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. I couldn’t believe the coincidence. But I would never do it. It was just a fun game to get my juices flowing. I’m just entertaining myself. I pocketed my phone and returned the last bit of work that I have. I need to get this girl off my mind.
New message: my sister’s address is 6606 South Mockingbird Lane. You can come by anytime. It’ll just be between you and me. I’ll see you tonight.
Oh, she’s crafty. She’s definitely a tease.
Looking over the address, I was suddenly uneasy about the situation that I found myself in. At the same time I was interested in the possibly. I could never go over there. It wouldn’t be right. But what would happen if I did?
The question rolled in my mind the rest of the day. I could hardly focus. My work became mundane. Each task was more tedious than the last. I just wanted to finish my shift and leave. I soon found myself sitting in my car at the end of my work day, the engine idling as I looked at the address once again.
I thumbed the screen of my phone, opening up the maps application, where I mapped out the route from my work to the mysterious girl’s house. It’s not too far away. Apparently it’s a real place. Maybe I’ll go. Just to check it out. I’m not going in.
I followed the route; it was only a few minutes from my work. Within a few minutes I was pulling up to the house. It was real. I looked it like a pleasant little house, very welcoming. I looked out of the driver-side window to the house.
I hesitated to turn off the car, yet I found myself turning off the ignition and sitting in the parked car. I turned my head back at the house then I looked in my rear-view mirror at me. I shifted my eyesight back to the house, wondering what I was going to do.
Do I stay in the car or head toward the house? Should I just go home and wait for Carol? I definitely need to go home………..
The front door to the house opened. I saw her gently walking down the walkway toward the car. I instantly recognized her from her pictures. At the very sight of her I felt my heartbeat increase in my chest. I knew that I dug a hole too deep to get out.
“Hey babe, I’m so glad to see you.” She greeted me from the outside of the car. Her smile was perfect and I could smell her elegant perfume even from a distance. “Are you going to come in?” she gently stroked a finger over my hand, sending a shockwave through my body.
I exited the car and follow the mysterious girl into the house. She led me into the house with a smile and a gentle touch.
Anthony K. Giesick
I grew up loving stories and quickly found myself loving writing poetry, stories, songs! Here is a sample of what Beautiful Feet Writings is all about!.