Scarlett’s best friend, Angela, has convinced her to attend an event called Text Me. No talking is aloud, only texting someone to get to know them. Rooms have been reserved for those attending in case they want to get to know someone one a more personal level.
After a series of texts that lead nowhere, Scarlett gets one that piques her interest. The person on the other end wants to tie her up and spank her. She finds herself eager to learn more. But that would mean trusting the anonymous texter. Can Scarlett finally let go and experience the pleasure this mystery man has to give?
“Welcome,” a stunning red headed woman greeted them. “Please look over the rules then come over here and I’ll help sign you up.”
Scarlett looked at the poster board and read.
Welcome to the first annual, Text Me Date Night.
We’ve tried to make tonight as safe and enjoyable as possible. Please take a moment to look over the simple rules.
Every person is assigned their ID that is associated with their phone number.
You will display your ID with a sticker on your back.
If you find someone you are interested in, you will check the board for their ID and find their number.
Always identify yourself with your ID.
All communication is through texting. No talking aloud.
If you find someone you’d like to get to know better, stop by the welcome desk to get a room card and leave your ID number so we know who is where and with whom.
Most of all, let loose and have fun.
The rules were simple and seemed like this event was well thought out. Everyone had their own personal identification code which seemed as though it would help keep them safe. What the hell. Might as well give it a go.
“Ready?” Angela asked.
“I didn’t get dressed up for nothing.” Scarlett tossed her blonde locks behind her shoulders and strutted back to the table to get her ID.
At the sign-up table, the woman looked thrilled to see them. She handed them each a clipboard with a few simple questions to fill out. As Scarlett wrote her phone number down, she really hoped the room wasn’t filled with a bunch of psychos. After she completed the form, she handed it back to the woman then the red head placed a big sticker on her back which identified her to her phone number.
“Good luck, ladies. And my best advice is, let the men text you.”
“Thanks,” Scarlett said as she waited on Angela.
They went toward the ballroom where the event was being hosted. The doors were wide open, making it feel inviting. Before they entered where they would no longer be able to talk, Scarlett stopped and took a deep breath. “Hopefully this is fun. Should we have a special text word like we do at clubs in case one of us needs help?”
“Great idea, yes. How about our usual word, pickle?”
“Okay. Don’t leave me right away, please.”
“I won’t. It isn’t like I’m going to go get it on with the first man that texts me.” Angela laughed.
Scarlett wasn’t so sure about that. Not that she was calling her friend a slut, but she was definitely a little looser then Scarlett was.
“Let’s go,” Scarlett said, because if they didn’t go now she might chicken out.
About the Author:
Lacey lives in Georgia with her husband, son and daughter, their six cats and one black lab who rules the house.
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