Sweet Stranger (Sweet Series Book 1) Read online

  Trapped in a loveless marriage. Looking to add spice to my life.

  No. Delete.

  Candlelit dinners, long walks on the beach -

  Pathetic.

  Seeking an arrangement with no strings attached.

  Liz sighed and leaned back in her chair. She couldn't help but feel a vague sense of embarrassment as she typed out her bio. It felt as though she were trying too hard to be young again. A married woman writing a dating profile? If she had known a week ago that she'd be doing this, she would have reprimanded her future self for reeking of desperation.

  But this site had promised her a discreet, shame-free experience. Silentmeet.com was a popular hub for single or committed men and women alike to meet each other. Jen had been raving about it for weeks, giggling uncontrollably as she described all her steamy encounters. Today at lunch, she had leaned over her salad and whispered to Liz like they were a pair of high school girls gossiping about crushes. That day, it had been about her latest escapade with a forty-year-old banker who hadn't slept with his wife in six years.

  "God, Liz. You wouldn't believe the kind of stuff he was into... kinky as hell. He told me to 'be mean' to him while we were doing it. Married men are so different from what I expected. Like, I never thought I would get with an older guy. But they're so passionate about it when they've been starved of sex for so long."

  Liz had felt uneasy. Jen had hit a sore spot, but she had tried to respond graciously.

  "I dunno, Jen... is this really a good idea? What if one bat-shit crazy wife finds out and tries to track you down and kill you?"

  "Oh please. SilentMeet has everything you could want out of a site like this. It automatically erases your messages and photos after you've sent or received them, and if anyone tries to log into your account with an incorrect password, it redirects them to a news site." Jen rolled her eyes. "Anyone who gets caught using this would be idiotic enough to deserve it."

  Liz raised her eyebrows and continued, "Jen, you're single. You could join any of the hundreds of other dating sites out there. Yet, you choose the one that attracts sleazy, old men -"

  "I prefer to think of them as 'silver foxes'."

  "Okay," Liz had said, amused. "Silver foxes, then. Why go for the ones that are already tied down?"

  "Don't knock it 'till you try it, babe. These men have already made up their minds, and they're on the prowl. It's time to cash in on these opportunities."

  Jen had sipped her coffee and given Liz a sly look.

  "And if I were you, I'd make an account ASAP. I don't think Michael's gonna transform into a sex-crazed Adonis any time soon, and you're not getting any younger."

  Liz groaned and covered her face.

  "You know I'm right," Jen smirked. "But you keep on doing you. Ride 'em cowgirl."

  And with that, she had stood up with her coffee and tossed the remnants of her salad, leaving Liz to glare at the back of her ponytail as she flounced back to her desk.

  The cowgirl joke was getting old fast. Jen was referring to Michael's lackluster moves in the bedroom. In her mind, Liz had officially diagnosed her husband with Starfish Syndrome. Always the same, robotic, cowgirl position that Liz endured once a month, like a Brazilian wax. It sucked, but it had to be done. Michael's libido served as a running gag for Jen; the fact that he seemed to be content with sex once a month was hilarious to Jen, and Liz humored her with stories.

  But her discontent ran far deeper. Eight long years of feeling undesired had taken its toll on her self-esteem. It led her to doubt that she would find someone who would oblige her with even once-monthly sex. So she learned to do without, despite Michael's inability to satisfy her physical desires. What Jen didn't know was that Liz had recently discovered the reason behind his abnormally low maintenance needs.

  After a series of sudden business trips that took him away for weeks at a time, her suspicion had led her to his desktop computer. He'd taken his laptop away with him, of course. Under his most recently viewed files, she had found a special compartment within a folder of their honeymoon pictures. There were hundreds - no, thousands - of pictures of various actresses and models, sometimes nude. But the last few were selfies of an unrecognizable blonde in lacy lingerie. The comparatively poor photo quality made it clear that he had not found the photo online.

  She had not expected to find this computer still logged into all of his accounts. Clearly, he had been lulled into a sense of security by her overly trusting nature. Blood pumping with adrenaline, she quickly opened his Facebook and skimmed through his chats. It didn't take her long to find Sophia White: young, busty waitress by day and homewrecker by night.

  Bitch.

  Furious and desperate, she began reading. Desperate to find evidence, but continuing to hope that it didn't exist. The messages spanned back three years. For two hours, Liz scrolled through his chat history with Ms. Blondie, pausing occasionally to reread certain passages that she wanted to burn into her memory. The ones that hurt her the most.

  Michael Brown: So... when's the next time I'll see you?

  Sophia White: haha well that depends on how fast u can get away from ur wife

  Michael Brown: Can't wait. You always know how to show me a good time. I just don't feel that excitement with Elizabeth. She's just... there. Not dressing up, not putting on makeup. No chase, no conquest involved. Frankly, I find her disgusting now.

  Sophia White: don't think about her. think about what i'm gonna do to u next time.

  Sophia White: let's play a game. i'll be somewhere in the hilton at 5 pm this friday, and u try to find me ;)

  Last Friday. Last Friday was the anniversary dinner that Michael had shown up late to, because his boss had him work 'overtime'.

  It's no small wonder that the asshole has no libido. He's sleeping with this whore, she fumed to herself now, staring at her SilentMeet profile.

  Liz closed her eyes and pushed the memories out of her mind. Ever since last week, she was aware of a cold block of ice growing in her chest that slid her between a place of silent hatred and a place of implacable fury. She could barely concentrate at work, constantly planning what she would do when Michael got back. They had no kids to think of, and nothing was stopping her from filing for divorce. But Liz was waiting on a promotion at work that was due within the next year, and the extra money would make hiring a lawyer that much easier.

  Well if he's sleeping around, I consider that permission for me to do the same until then.

  She skimmed over her profile page.

  Username: SweetStranger

  Tagline: Seeking an arrangement with no strings attached.

  Age: 36

  Location: Chicago, IL

  Height: 5' 4"

  Weight: 140

  Body Type: Average

  Status: Married

  What turns me on: Sex. Lots of it.

  What I am looking for: A faithful husband. Oh wait...

  Liz minimized the window and pushed her chair back and twisted her torso around until she heard the satisfying crack. Yawning, she walked downstairs to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee and glanced at the clock. One hour till Michael came home from his trip, unless he decided to take a little detour. She was doubtful that any SilentMeet affair of hers would come to fruition, but at least it would keep her mind off of Michael and his side slut. She threw her hair into a bun and sat back down at her desk. Unable to quell her curiosity, she opened the SilentMeet tab and refreshed the page.

  You have [1] new instant message!

  Anonymous: Your profile is amusing.

  SweetStranger: Glad you think so.

  Anonymous is typing...

  Liz frowned. What kind of ID was
"Anonymous"? She clicked on his username, which brought her to his profile.

  Username: Anonymous

  Tagline: Mrs. to Ms. just for me?

  Age: 24

  Location: Chicago, IL

  Height: 5' 11"

  Weight: 160

  Body Type: Fit

  Status: Single

  What turns me on: BDSM - Dominant/Master, Bondage

  What I am looking for: Older women who want what their husband won't do to them.

  Liz rolled her eyes. So he had a thing for cougars.

  You have [1] new instant message!

  Anonymous: So your husband isn't enough for you? Or are you just here for vengeance?

  SweetStranger: A bit of both. Apparently, he's so disgusted by me that he can only get it up once a month.

  Anonymous: Hey, now. If you don't feel desired in bed, it's because you haven't been with me yet.

  Despite herself, Liz felt a small smirk spread across her face. She couldn't remember the last time she had been flirted with. She typed out a response.

  SweetStranger: Charming, aren't you?

  Anonymous: I try. Why don't you send me a picture, and I'll show you how fast I can get it up for you?

  SweetStranger: How do I know that I can trust you?

  Anonymous: You can't. But you can continue to believe your husband, or you can get a second opinion.

  SweetStranger: I'll think about it.

  Liz stared at her screen, dumbfounded. Was she really going through with this?

  Well... what the hell. I've come this far, haven't I?

  She slid her phone off the table and headed to the bathroom. Pulling her blouse off over her head, she twisted so that her side was facing the mirror. Sucked in the slight pooch over her stomach. Pinched the skin at her waist. Pushed her breasts up and imagined what she would look like if they were perkier. Poked and prodded at herself critically. She was vaguely aware that her distorted perception of her own body had only sent her confidence careening further downhill. Objectively, Liz knew that she was decently attractive compared to other women at her age.

  She pulled down her bun and ran her fingers through her hair until it fanned over her shoulders. Her eyes met their reflection in the mirror, light brown orbs separated by a smattering of freckles across her nose. Thick, unruly brown curls fell just past her shoulder at a length she considered a low-maintenance hairstyle. Michael hated it when she had it cut.

  Is this what you find disgusting, Michael?

  She gazed steadily into the mirror and raised her phone to take a picture.

  Is it? Well, fuck you.

  Liz threw her blouse back on and walked over to her desk. Once she plugged her phone in, she leaned over and dragged the file over to the chat message.

  SweetStranger: There you go.

  No response. She waited another minute, drumming her finger against the desk nervously.

  Five minutes passed.

  Liz felt her heart sink. How could she have been this stupid? No one wanted to see a topless photo of a woman in her mid-thirties. He was probably expecting some skinny MILF on the other end of the chat. By now, her photo had probably been posted on every social media site, captioned "Desperate housewife thinks she's hot!"

  Anonymous is typing...

  Liz jolted forward in her chair, eyes snapping to the chat box. Embarrassed by her own reaction, she leaned back and waited.

  Anonymous: I'm very tempted to make this my desktop background.

  She smiled. The ice in her chest thawed a little.

  SweetStranger: That's not very discreet.

  Anonymous: I don't care. I'm single. Did you even read my profile?

  SweetStranger: I did. Just so you know, I'm not one for whips and handcuffs. Sorry to disappoint.

  Anonymous: Have you ever tried it?

  SweetStranger: No.

  Anonymous: Husband likes vanilla, does he?

  SweetStranger: A bit too much. Well, I don't know what he does with the other woman.

  Anonymous: Maybe it's time for you to explore your options as well.

  SweetStranger: What if I don't want to?

  Anonymous: Then you don't have to. I'm only here to give you what you want and deserve.

  Liz raised her eyebrows.

  SweetStranger: Suave, are we?

  They talked for hours. Liz was surprised to find that she was enjoying herself, bantering coyly with this stranger. Their conversation eventually mellowed out to an exchange of interests and hobbies, many of which they shared. They talked about Mitch Albom's books, Ricky Martin's music, indie films, and plans of cross-country hiking. Before she knew it, she lost track of the time.

  Liz was in the middle of typing a response when she heard the front door slam downstairs. She quickly closed her laptop, glanced at the clock, and climbed into bed. It was 2 AM. Michael was due home three hours ago. Realizing that he must have met Sophia just now, she waited for the pain to hit her, but it never came. She only heard her heart pounding in her ear from the fear of being caught when he had returned. She heard him come up the stairs and listened to the door creak as it opened.

  He walked in and the footsteps stopped. Was he by her desk?

  "Seriously?"

  Her breath hitched and her heart raced faster. If he were to open her laptop, he would be able to see all the raunchy details of the chat, including the topless picture.

  "How long have these lights been on? And she's sleeping. Running up the damn electricity bill."

  Liz exhaled softly. He hadn't seen it.

  Her mind raced as she heard him undress and slip under the covers. She had actually cheated on her husband, and she had gotten away with it. Instead of guilt, satisfaction, or pain, she felt a steady sense of melancholy settle over her at the irony of the situation. Liz and Michael fell asleep next to each other, dreaming of other people they would rather be asleep with.

  Anonymous: Hubby treat you well last night?

  SweetStranger: No better than he would a bed full of men.

  Anonymous: Hey, maybe that's what he's into... you never know. There's no other reason he wouldn't be interested in a woman like you.

  Liz giggled. Jennifer, who was reading the chat over her shoulder, crossed her arms and snorted.

  "I think I'm gonna puke."

  "Wow, Jen. Not all of my chats have to be as erotic as yours." Liz swiveled around in her chair to look at her. "Who's your newest conquest? Donald Trump?"

  "No, no, no... " Jen held up a finger and smirked. "Not so fast, Wonder Woman. I'm not done grilling you about lover boy, yet."

  Liz groaned.

  "Okay, I'll bite. What do you want to know?"

  "Firstly, how do you two not know each other’s names yet? It's been five months."

  "Discretion."

  Jen rolled her eyes. "So you're totally cool with spilling your heart out to this guy, but your names are off-limits?

  "He calls me 'Stranger' and I call him 'Anonymous'. Does anything beyond that matter? And... the mystery kinda adds to the thrill of it."

  "Kinky."

  "Shut up, Jen!" Liz laughed and pretended to swat her away.

  "Okay, Kinky McKinkster. Question number two: what does he do for a living?"

  "He's a stockbroker. Works from home."

  "Um... does this not raise any red flags for you? You've never seen his face, and he doesn't go out into public. How do you know he's not a sixty-year-old creep?"

  Liz felt her face grow red. She had seen him last night when they both turned on their webcams for the first time... well, everything but his face. He hadn't been lying about his age or physique on his profile.

  The loading screen had disappeared, replaced by a video streaming a webcam that was being adjusted by a hand. A slim, lean-muscled man in a black V-necked sweater. But the camera was pointed at his neck and torso, just below his face.

  SweetStranger: Why can't I see your face?

  Anonymous: It's not much compared what I'm seeing.
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  SweetStranger: I could say the same. I'm dying to know what you look like.

  Anonymous: It's more entertaining for me this way. Let's have some fun now and see how we are with each other. Stand up and move back.

  SweetStranger: Why should I do that?

  Anonymous: Just follow my commands. Now unbutton your shirt. Good. Seems like you wanted this... you're wearing black lace lingerie. Now unhook your bra and take off your pants. Black lace panties as well? I am looking forward to having you.

  He had pulled off his sweater in one clean motion, giving her full access to his firm, walnut-toned chest.

  Anonymous: Now lie down and spread your legs. Move your hand down there. Are you wet?

  Liz had nodded.

  Anonymous: Wet just from being watched? I think we can make this work. Now finger yourself. Imagine being tied and touched against your will... cum to that.

  "He's not sixty."

  Her reddening face and her short reverie didn't escape Jen's notice.

  "LIZ!" she shrieked, drawing dirty looks from people around the cubicle. She lowered her voice to a stage whisper and continued, "Did you have webcam sex with him?!"

  "Not so loud!" Liz whispered back urgently. "But... yes, I did."

  "Oh my God. Omigod."

  "It's not that big of a deal."

  "Yeah, but webcam sex? What are you, sixteen? Go book a room at the Hilton like your manwhore of a husband does." Jen shot Liz a disapproving look. "By the way, I'm very disappointed that you didn't tell me about that right away."

  "Okay, okay... I'm sorry," Liz said, shifting in her seat uneasily. "I mean, I've tried asking S to meet up in person."

  "And he said no? Hello? Red flags galore!"

  Liz chewed on her bottom lip. He had seen her face in pictures and on video, but she had no idea what he looked like from the neck up. She wouldn't even be able to recognize him if he passed her on the street. Though his refusal had piqued her curiosity, she hadn't pressed the matter out of respect for his wishes. In five months, Liz had told him more about herself than Michael had learned about her over the course of an eight-year marriage.

  "Honestly, I enjoy talking to him more than anything else. I'd rather never get a look at his face than not talk."

  Jen dropped her jaw dramatically and ogled at her.