Roxy Walker
Roxy's Wrong Number has her wanting more. MalePOV / FemalePOV 40K+ thanks! V7
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Roxy kicked off her strappy heels by the bedroom door, still in the black micro skirt and sheer white top from her night out with Sarah and Maya, her crimson lipstick smudged from shared cocktails and laughter. Moonlight cut across the unmade bed, illuminating her husband’s untouched side, as cold as the empty whiskey glass on his nightstand.
Three years of sterile dinners and mechanical embraces had built a deep frustration within her; She was 27, Five-Eight, and still in good shape, 38DD-30-36, her coppery red hair to her ass in waves, her amber eyes looked at the mirror at herself, wondering where she went wrong.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed violently. [unknown number] Her heart hammered—not from fear, but from the thrilling possibility of being noticed. The text asked, [What are you wearing?] She looked at the mirror, seeing the white sheer shirt, no bra tonight, the black micro skirt and white thigh highs on her toned legs. Her nipple rings were easily seen through her shirt.
She smoothed the sheer top, which revealed the glint of her nipple rings. Loyal, but desperate for a spark against the numbness, she typed a reply and sent a photo of her secret adornments—the navel jewel, the nipple rings.
It was no affair, just proof she still existed. Her heart raced with the dizzying rush of choice, not guilt.
I hope they text back.She says to her reflection.