Perfect Strangers

Shit! What the fuck have I done?

CHAPTER FOUR

Returning home from another long day in the Boutique stitching the remainder of the sequins on the Franco dress, Myla proceeded to kick off her heels and stretch out her aching limbs. Dragging herself to the fridge she grabbed the cold bottle of red wine and uncorked it. Her eyes wandered to the cream envelope still stuck in the windowsill. It was like a noose around her neck.

Sighing she grabbed a glass and poured the crimson liquid into it and took a large gulp. She felt better when the alcohol coursed through her veins, forcing her to take another large gulp. Topping back up her glass, she wandered through the hallway and upstairs to the bathroom. Placing a bath bomb in the tub, she pushed down the plug, ran the water, and watched it turn purple as the heat started to dissolve it with a faint fizzing noise.

Unzipping her dress, she let it fall to the floor and stepped out of it, then made her way to her bedroom for her comfies. She retrieved her cell phone from the dresser where she had left it, in her dash out of the door, earlier that morning.

Stepping into the bath, she sighed as the water swirled around her body. She welcomed the heat of the warm water against her skin as she relaxed into it and closed her eyes. The only sound was the faint popping of the bubbles and swish of water as her legs moved around. She heard her phone vibrate on the floor next to the bath, making her reach for a towel.

Punching in her lock screen code she was met with a ton of notifications and missed calls. Swiping them away without thought, her attention was drawn to the red and black Shots app icon. It had the number eighteen sitting in the top right corner. Her stomach lurched and her heart gained speed, she sat upright in the bath. With a shaky finger, she clicked on the icon and made her way to her in-box. Her eyes widened when she took note of eighteen responses to her advert.

“Holy shit,” she muttered, grabbing her wine glass, and knocking it back for Dutch courage. “Here goes.”

She brought up the first response. I’m up for this. I’ve been married and divorced twice. “Hell no. You can’t sustain a marriage!” She mumbled and moved to the next one.

Hey damsel, I’m here to save you. I can be whatever you need me to be. “Nope, you’re an arrogant knob.”

I’ve just turned eighteen, how old do I need to be? “I’m not into cradle snatching, sorry kid,” she muttered as she pressed delete.

Florida? Will my holiday clothes be paid for too? Does that come under expenses? “Cheeky git!” she snapped.

Hey. I’m interning in a law firm, as luck would have it I’m on a week’s holiday next week. I’d love to help you out. “Yes.” Myla said then fist punched the air in jubilation.

Hey Juliet. I’m free anytime I’m required. I know the legal laws of the body if that helps? I dress to kill not to impress. Give me a shot, I may be the answer to your prayers.

From, Romeo.

Myla felt a strange sensation tingle through her body as she reread the message again. He seemed full of himself, but she couldn’t help but smile at his reference to Romeo and Juliet. Ignoring it for now, she read the rest of her messages. Apart from those two, only one more response had caught her attention. I’m free next week. I have a lot of legal knowledge being in the police force. I have great dress sense and a wicked sense of humor. I hope to hear from you.

Penning her response, she sent the same message to all three e-mail addresses attached to their replies and smiled. Then she saved them in her e-mail contacts with nicknames. Cass was right, of course this could work. Settling back into the bath, she dropped her phone to the floor, and closed her eyes sighing in relief. Her attention was drawn back to her phone when it vibrated again. Ignoring it, she began to lather up the soap and washed her body. Grabbing her towel, she climbed from the bath, wrapped it around her and scooped her phone from the floor. Clicking the e-mail icon, she opened the message awaiting her.

To: Juliet

From: Romeo

9.15pm

Who is this?

“Dear god, is this man retarded?” She muttered as she typed away.

To: Romeo

From: Juliet

9.16pm

You contacted me through Shots?

To: Juliet

From: Romeo

9.17pm

Never heard of it, sweetheart!