*COMPLETED* (18+) MATURE
Wrong number...usually a person would delete the number, right? A mistaken text leads to blood money and danger. Chris Johnson, a gender fluid male, receives a text from a mystery guy who shares a card number. Aware that i...
Sam's three girlfriends were over for their routine dirty book Thursday, reading Fifty Shades Of Grey. I only watched the movies and skipped all the dialogue to the sex. The sex that was blah and uninteresting, but I had no problem jerking off tho. I wonder if Christian is gay in an alternate universe, I feel us having the same name link us somehow.
In a black and white accented living room, I hand out fruity wine coolers to the guests and take a seat down on a leather sofa, pretending to read my copy of the book. I scan the page for dick, pussy, or fuck, and saw it nowhere and lost interest immediately. This is weak. I finish drinking my second wine cooler, tapping my feet to the music. That's What I Like by Bruno Mars.
"From his inside jacket pocket, he produces a ring and gazes up at me, his eyes bright gray and raw, full of emotion. Anastasia Steele, I love you. I want to love, cherish, and protect you for the rest of my life. Be mine. Always. Share my life with me. Marry me." One of the girls reads in a Shakespearean impression...I smile cutely, not remembering her name, she was a goofy kind of pretty, with pink hair and glasses. Adorkable, if you will, the other two were basic, black haired chicks with attitudes.
These girls were Sam's playthings. Oh, I forgot to mention that he 's bisexual, and girls are a every changing habit of his. I hate keeping up with the new batches he has every few months. It may just be a flavor thing; whenever I ask about it, he just says he likes variety.
Honestly, Sam is a thot.
My mind begs to leave and free myself of boredom.
YAWN.
I glance over at Sam and nod towards a pure black kitchen. He follows my gaze, then looks back at me, his green eyes clicking with my signal and reading a non-verbal request. "I'll be right back," Sam tells the girls, sitting down his book on the sofa before getting up. The pink haired one responds with a nonchalant grin, but the other two glare me down as I stood, judging my bare legs under the big t-shirt. This is why I don't come around his toys...unneeded drama.
Into the kitchen, we go. "This is boring; I don't read unless it's work related."
He snorts at this. "What do you want me to do?"
"Kick them out," I say with a straight face and a no joke policy.
He laughs on, doing that thing where one hand holds his stomach. Aww, so cute, my mind goes goo goo. "Wow, just cause you're bored, Chris?" Sam cuts his laughter short when I mean mug him. "Sorry." He clears his throat. "Well, you can hang in my room."
I get salty. I don't wanna be in a room all by myself, especially his room. Unfortunately, this was my only option of freedom from the bitches, excluding the pink haired one. I like her. "FINE!!" I begin to walk away, but end up halting and spotting a box of strawberry shortcakes in an opened cabinet. I gaze slyly at Sam, daringly, before snatching the box and speeding off in the big, flowy shirt.
I didn't want to go in his room because I'd fall asleep and we'd end up snoozing off together and dot, dot, dot. NOPE, Not happening again! I'm gonna sleep on the couch, and that's final. He cheated on me three months into our "serious" relationship. Just because I was "working" too much. We decided to remain friends, though, because we had a lot in common and built up our bond. Our connection just isn't about being attracted to the same sex, but about being crazy about ice skating, Captain America...oh, and George Michael too.
I lay on his bed, tucking a few pillows between my arms-everything smells of cologne, menthol and apple. A too familiar scent. Oh god, that smell...I think back to hugging Sam, to my nose taking in the scent of his bare neck on a summer's night, near a shimmering lake. To my kisses tasting the menthol and apple. My tongue savoring it. Change the subject, CHANGE THE SUBJECT!!! 😖
My mind demands bitterly.
In the black and white decorated room, I focus on the Walmart bags on a dark dresser. I get up from the bed and wiggle out and unbox the newly bought iPhone. I can set this up, that'll take my mind off of the past. I hum Rise by Selena, as I start up the device. I go to Sam's computer desk, to a MAC, and power it on, taking a seat at a bowl-like swerve chair. I swear he's a fucking show off, get a regular chair 🙄
Music bumps from outside the room, I roll my eyes at the high pitch giggles...overly done giggles. Basic bitches always do too much. The sound annoys me; my feet start tapping. I like living alone, in peace, my semi-introvert ass. Well, not entirely in peace, I talk a lot to no one in particular...to myself. But I ain't a crazy bissh!
I log into Sam's computer and type in the password: Sam007*. Then, plug the phone into a connected USB. When the phone loads and welcomes me, I complete the new boot up info, then connect to the WIFI. The first thing I do is pull up the hack card website. I type in the numbers I memorized. My mouth drops at the current balance:
$1,000,000.
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