I couldn't sleep after seeing that photo. It stayed on my phone, calling me back like a wound I couldn't stop picking. Daniel cheating should've shattered me, but honestly, it was clear. Every distant conversation, every cold glance, every ache I tried to label as "love"—none of it was real. I'd been surviving. And that necklace? It wasn't just an accessory. It was a decision. I knew exactly what I wanted.
Morning light hit the necklace, and it gleamed like a whispered secret. I hadn't worn it yet, but I hadn't put it away either. It sat on my vanity, flame pendant catching the light, daring me to admit the truth: someone out there saw me—wanted me. Daniel hadn't looked at me like that in years.
My chest felt tight. I went to make coffee, hands trembling just enough to show the storm inside me. The silk robe I wore felt cool on my skin, but I was burning up underneath. I should've tossed the necklace in the trash. But I didn't. I couldn't.
My phone buzzed, loud against the counter. My heart jumped.
One message: Put it on. Just once. For me.
His words felt like fingers at my throat—soft but insistent. I didn't reply. Instead, I walked to the mirror, breathing unevenly. My fingers shook as I picked up the necklace, placing it around my neck. The pendant rested against my chest, warm, like it knew everything. I stared at my reflection—bare legs, silk robe, that flame gleaming like a promise. I kept it on all day, and the longer I wore it, the more alive I felt.
I ran errands—eggs, milk, strawberries—but it felt like I wasn't really there. I moved through the store like a ghost, distracted, my heart beating too fast. Then I saw him. Not clearly—just the silhouette. Broad shoulders. A stillness that watched. His gaze burned through me. I froze. The world quieted. I turned too quickly and knocked over a cereal box. It crashed to the floor. When I looked again, he was gone. But I still felt him.
Driving home, I gripped the wheel tight. The pendant shimmered in the sunlight, pulsing like a second heartbeat. Daniel wasn't home. "Late meeting." "Late dinner." The usual.
I unpacked the groceries in silence. At midnight, my phone buzzed.
I saw you today. Black silk. That necklace. You looked… Hot.
It wasn't vulgar. It was honest in a way I hadn't heard in years. I inhaled sharply. My fingers trembled as I typed: Why are you doing this?
His reply came instantly: Because he doesn't see you.
Tears blurred my vision, but I wasn't sad. I was seen. And I hadn't felt that in a very long time.
The next morning, I wore white lace—barely there. I made coffee slowly, aware of every move.
Buzz. Don't stop. Every movement you make is a prayer.
I crossed my legs on purpose. My body responded instantly. I didn't know where this was going—but I wanted more.
That night, Daniel came home late. I stood in the kitchen, naked beneath my robe. He didn't notice. No kisses. No small talk. Just a drink. My fists clenched. He used to crave me. Now? Nothing.
"Did you see the necklace on the vanity?" I asked.
He blinked. "Yeah, it's fine."
Fine? It was more than fine. Upstairs, I returned to the mirror. The necklace shimmered against my chest like armor. I stared at my reflection.
You want to be wanted? Then be wanted.
I grabbed my phone.
I'm wearing it.
He replied: Good. Now touch yourself.
My knees nearly gave out.
I left the lights on. Curtains cracked open. The flame bounced with every breath. I saw him—in the window. I didn't stop. I needed him to see. My body wasn't Daniel's. Maybe it never was. It belonged to someone who knew how to look.
I didn't sleep. Not from guilt, but because I still felt every touch. Every thrill.
I woke up tangled in sheets, hot and damp. The necklace was still on. Daniel hadn't come home. I didn't care.
The downstairs was too clean. Too quiet. But something had shifted. I poured coffee, every nerve awake. The ache between my thighs lingered.
Buzz.
Last night was amazing. Watching you lose control was like a prayer.
My mug trembled. I should've deleted it. Blocked him. Pretended to be a loyal wife. But I typed: Why me?
His answer was sharp:
Because you pretend to sleep, but inside, you're screaming.
I pressed my fist to my mouth. He was right. I'd been screaming for so long, buried under Daniel's silence. And now? This man was peeling me open, one word at a time—and I let him.
Later, I drew a bath—not to clean, but to feel. I made it hot, added oils that smelled like vanilla, spice, and something darker. I slipped in slowly. The necklace stayed on.
Steam curled around me. My skin buzzed. I touched the flame pendant. A shock ran through me.
Buzz.
You're wet, aren't you?
Another message:
Slide your fingers down. Let me feel it through the screen.
I hesitated. Then I gave in. I opened my legs. My fingers moved slowly at first. The heat spread. I pictured him watching, and I came undone.
That's it. Let it all go.
His words pushed me over. I cried out, gasping, body arching. Everything disappeared. I stayed in the tub until the water turned cold. When I stood, I wrapped myself in a towel. The necklace didn't come off.
Hours passed. Daniel didn't text. Didn't call. But the watcher? Always present.
Buzz.
There's a package outside. Just for you.
My heart pounded. I opened the door. A box—black paper, red ribbon. Like the necklace. Like the perfume.
Upstairs, I locked the door. Sat on the bed. Unwrapped silk. Not clothes. Not lingerie.
A blindfold. Soft. Scented like Velour Night.
Buzz.
Tonight, wear it. Nothing else. Lights on. Curtains open. Let me show you what it means to be wanted.
I didn't respond.
But that night, I obeyed.
In front of the mirror, blindfold on, naked. Necklace glowing. My breath caught. I couldn't see, but I could feel everything. The air shifted. My skin tingled. Goosebumps rose.
Fingers skimmed my stomach. Every touch is sharper without sight.
Buzz.
Touch yourself as if I'm there. Because I am.
I obeyed. My cries echoed off the walls. The blindfold slip
ped. Across the street—a window. A figure moved out of view.
Buzz.
Now you know. I see everything. I'll never stop.