1-800-CALL-ME B part 2
Reread Part One.
*
“Call me B.”
“Hey, it’s me.”
I smirk, turning around in the chair and telling myself that I wasn’t expecting his call. “Well, hello there, fancy you calling at a time like this.” It’s exactly six o’clock on the nose according to the little clock on my wall.
“Yeah, fancy that.” There’s a slight laugh in his voice and he sounds happier than when I last talked to him.
“How are you?”
There’s a pause and he sighs. “I, um, I wanted to apologize for hanging up so quickly last time.”
“Oh.” I’m surprised. People don’t usually apologize to me. I get a lot of dropped calls and hastily hung up phones. “Uh, well, thanks? I mean, it’s okay.”
“Yeah.” His voice is returning to the familiar monotonous tone that I’m used to. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” Most people don’t ask me questions.
“Did… Is what you told me before, was it true?”
I pause. I could tell him it was all a lie and then he would know nothing about me again. I would go back to being Anonymous B. That’s a cool super hero name too.
“No, yeah,” I say, though. “It was true.”
He lets out a relieved breath and I smile.
“Why? Scared I was lying to you?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he mutters and I wonder exactly what that means.
I pause a second. “What do you feel like doing today?”
There’s an even longer pause and I think that he hung up for a minute, but then I hear his breathing close to the phone as though he’s even closer now.
“Seeing you.”
I freeze even though he can’t see me. “What?”
The pause is tense and I hope I heard wrong.
“I want to see you.”
Okay, apparently my hearing is good. Damn it. I don’t know what to do. I’m not supposed to meet these people. It’s not against company rules, but it’s highly discouraged for our own safety.
“Well, you can,” I say slowly. “In your mind, whenever you wa-”
“No,” he interrupts. “Like, in real life.”
I should not be doing this. I should not even be thinking about saying yes. But a little part of me wants to. That little part that wants to know how they get people on television, how they make red bull so amazing, that part wants to say yes. I can’t help being curious. It’s a blessing and a curse. It took me a long time to figure that out. Too long.
“I… I don’t know,” I say, uneasy. I don’t really like the idea of meeting a stranger I only know over the phone. I mean, he could be completely crazy, a psycho killer and I’m walking right into his trap.
Okay, so I don’t actually believe that, but any rational person would tell me that and I should listen to them.
“I…” He hesitates and I know he’s just as nervous about this as I am. “I want to meet you, see you. I want to know what you look like. I… I want to know what it really feels like.”
This is crazy. I should have hung up the minute he said it, but I didn’t. Why didn’t I?
“I don’t know,” I say again. “I mean, this isn’t - It’s not… well, it’s just…”
“I know it’s weird, and awkward,” he says quickly. “But I thought that maybe we could just see. I just, I feel so trapped. I just want to see if maybe there’s something else.”
I don’t think he’s just talking about phone sex now.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m considering it!
“Well.” I’m hesitating because some responsible part of my brain tells me I should think more about it. But the responsible part was always overruled by another part, which is what happens. “I guess we could.”
“Really?” The happiness in his voice is enough to make me think I made the right decision.
“Yeah. Um, do you want to meet somewhere?”
“Yeah, there’s a park by my office kind of.”
And we make plans to meet at this park. I hang up that evening hoping I haven’t just made a huge mistake.
*
We meet at night, which in retrospect, probably wasn’t the best idea. But I don’t really have days off and I work all the rest of the time. So I drag myself to this park in the center of town that is surrounded by towering buildings and I wait by the entrance. There’s no fucking way I’m going inside the dark, gloomy park alone.
I did tell Jon where I was going, but not why. He would have stopped me or at least tried to talk me out of it. But I told him to call the police if I wasn’t back by the morning. He’d given me a weird look, but I think didn’t follow me.
I’m standing at the entrance to the park, mace in one pocket and my cell phone in the other, the police on speed dial. I really hope this wasn’t a bad idea.
I turn sharply when I hear footsteps behind me on the grass and see a dark shape trudging across the lawn towards me.
I’m a little scared, I’ll admit it. I have been known to have very bad ideas and make lots of mistakes in my life. I was kind of hoping this wouldn’t be one of those times.
I bite my lip as the figure gets closer and my fingers tighten over the mace. You can never be too careful in the big city.
Then the figure stops, standing under one of the orange streetlights, his hands stuck inside his jacket pockets and staring at me. I can’t make out much of his face from here but don’t move closer just yet.
“B?” he asks finally and I blink. So it’s him.
“Yeah,” I say carefully, taking a step forward and watching him closely.
I see his mouth in the shadow quirk into a smile, so I come closer again, finally stepping into the light and letting it flood over me.
He stands before me, a few inches taller, but he’s hunched over a little. He runs his tongue over his lips as his eyes rise to mine.
“Hey,” he says and I feel the warm flutter of familiarity at the greeting.
“Hi.” I pause. He looks sort of familiar, but I can’t place him. It’s like I’ve seen him before somewhere else.
He has a thin body and brown hair that flops into his eyes in the wind. His eyes are dark in the light, but they look kind of hazel as he looks up at me.
“So,” I say, smiling nervously. “Um.”
“Thanks,” he says quickly when I stall for words. “For meeting me, I mean. I wasn’t sure you would.”
“Yeah, me neither.” I laugh slightly, biting my lip. His eyes fall to it and he pauses.
“I-uh, I’m Ryan,” he says, and in a way, I kind of knew that already. He looks like a Ryan.
“Yeah,” I reply. This is awkward.
He pauses too as though he doesn’t know what to do. I’m not sure he even knows why he really wanted to see me.
“It’s kind of cold,” he says after a minute and I shrug. It is getting kind of cold. Autumn is coming. “My office is right over there.” He points to one of the tall white buildings and I follow it up at least twenty stories. “W-we could…”
I get what he’s trying to offer, and as much as I know it’s stupid and irresponsible, I still want to do it.
“Yeah, we could,” I finish, smiling slightly and feeling better when he really smiles and nods, turning and leading the way from the park entrance.
I loosen my hold on the mace and concentrate on checking out his ass as we cross the street and head inside.
It’s a long ride up to his office on the thirteenth floor. I think about saying something about it being on the thirteenth floor, but I’ve put my foot in my mouth too many times to count, so I don’t.
He unlocks a glass door and we weave through a maze of cubicles until we make it to the edge where bigger offices with actual walls line it. Ryan leads us to one and lets me in.
Inside, it’s almost exactly how I pictured it. The chair isn’t black leather and there is no picture on the desk. There are neatly organized papers, though, and the computer’s screensaver is flashing pictures. I catch sight of one of a Beagle and smile. I knew it.
Ryan looks nervous as he slides off his jacket and moves over to the security camera on the wall. He scratches his neck for a second before pushing it up so that it’s staring at the wall and not at the desk.
He smiles back at me slowly, still unsure.
I know what he wants to do, what he wants me to do. I’ve been doing it on the phone for over a year.
He leans back against the desk, his jacket on the chair behind it as he looks at me, his eyes flicking nervously down my body, taking me in.
He’s pretty hot too, I think, as he bites his lip and practically pleads with his eyes.
“So, Ryan,” I say, moving forward and shrugging off my jacket in the process. “Why did you want to meet me?”
“I-I wanted to see you,” he murmurs, watching my hands toss the jacket onto another chair.
“Yeah?” I ask, moving forward. I’m trying to be confident here, and it’s sort of working. His nerves make me feel better. “You wanted to see me? You wanted to feel me, you said.”
He nods, and I can see his hands trembling as he braces himself against the desk. I slide forward, pulling my shirt off. It rumples my hair, but he’s just staring at my chest when I slip in between his legs.
His gasp is quiet and scared. He stares up at me and I can see the fear in the swirling green and gold irises.
I pause. “Have you ever done this before?”
Swallowing, he shakes his head. “Not in real life,” he admits quietly, his expression worried as he stares up.
It’s starting to make sense now, but I push away the thought as he bites his lip again and blinks up at me. He’s very pretty and I’d be stupid to turn him down.
I just nod at his answer, then, and lean forward, bringing his lips to mine in what is probably his first guy-on-guy kiss. I go slow, careful, fitting our lips together as easily as possible. He’s kissed someone before, I can tell that much at least.
He’s trembling as I lift a hand to his cheek, holding him in the kiss and sliding my tongue against his lips. I can feel where he’s been chewing on them probably all afternoon. They’re soft and pliable under mine and he lets out a small whimper against me.
Usually, I’m not the experienced one, but this is a nice change of pace.
Ryan melts against me, an arm sliding over my shoulders and tugging me closer. He’s practically sitting on the desk now, my body tucked against his as we kiss. His moan reverberates in my mouth and I kiss him harder, sliding my hand down his cheek to his neck. I run it through his soft hair once and feel him sigh against my mouth.
When I pull away, he’s breathing harder and I recognize the sound from the phone. I smile softly and kiss him again, a little faster.
He’s reacting, which is a good sign. His hand is on my bare side and jumps only slightly when he realizes.
“B,” he mutters against my mouth and I feel a slight twinge in my stomach.
“Uh,” I say, pulling away and panting against his lips. His hand rests lightly on my side. “Call me Brendon.”
He pauses, and then smiles slightly. “Brendon.”
He has no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear him say that instead of “B”.
I smile back and kiss him again, pushing him up against the desk. His groan isn’t as quiet as it usually is, but I figure that’s because we’re alone in the building now except a few rogue security guards.
He feels just like I imagined. His skin is smooth beneath my touch and he falls into it when I push up his shirt and run my fingers over his lower back.
He arches into my touch, biting at my lips like he’s wanted this forever but could never have it. I can feel him growing hard against my thigh.
“Fuck, Brendon,” he pants, pulling away to gasp for air before he’s back against my lips.
I don’t say anything, too distracted with the way his hands drag up my sides and wishing he wasn’t wearing as many clothes as he is.
There’s only one way to fix that. Moving back, I tug at his shirt, stripping it off and throwing it with mine. His eyes widen for a second as though he’s realizing what he’s doing.
It’s gone, though, when I lean in, trailing my lips down his neck and over his shoulder. His head falls back and his mouth opens as well, letting out small gasps when I nip at the skin. His hand is in my hair as I move, sliding down his collar bone.
My tongue is hot against his skin and he whimpers into the touch, looking down, his eyes now glazed as he stares. I smirk and move back up, taking his lips in a rough kiss that he pushes back against, wanting even more.
His arms are wrapped around my neck and his hips are rutting against mine. He’s completely hard now and he pulls away panting, burying his face in my neck. He’s going to come too quickly if we’re not careful.
Pushing him away gently, I smile and he gazes up at me.
“In a minute,” I murmur, my hands going for his slacks, unbuttoning them and pushing them over his thighs. He has thin legs, but he’s well-endowed anyway, not that I’m complaining. He swallows again and I can sense the nerves returning.
But the pants are gone and I kiss him quickly, setting him up on the desk and undoing my jeans too. He looks a little fearful again.
“You want to do this?” I ask and he nods a little shakily. “Okay.” I reach into my pants pocket and pull out a condom because it doesn’t hurt to be prepared. If Jon has taught me one thing in all the time I’ve known him, it’s that.
Ryan’s eyes flick from the plastic wrapper to me and down to my cock, that’s hard and throbbing just thinking about fucking this really hot guy on his desk in front of me. His lip is shaking again, but he doesn’t say anything as I roll the condom on. Instead, he leans back, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small tube of lube. He obviously thought about this.
He smiles carefully as he presses it into my hand, and I laugh, biting my bottom lip. The look on his face shoots straight to my groin, all need and want as he listens to my laugh. Maybe I was right and that does it for him.
“It’s gonna hurt,” I warn him and he nods like he knows.
The initial push is slow and I can feel the burning heat engulfing my cock. It feels so good and I’m reminded of how long it’s been since I did this with a real person and not just a phone and my hand.
Ryan is grasping my arms tightly with each little push, each slide that moves me deeper. His eyes are shut tightly and he’s clenching his teeth.
“Relax,” I breathe against his shoulder, pulling his legs up to my sides for an easier angle. I can feel his nod and the breath he lets out, slow and steady. It’s not like his usual breathing that I hear through the phone. This time it’s hard and stuttered, panting against my skin and catching every few seconds when I shift.
The heat is overwhelming and I can’t for the life of me remember why I thought this was a bad idea. Ryan’s body is tight and clenching around my cock. I know it’s uncomfortable for him. It’s new and I remember my first time. I remember thinking I never wanted to do it again.
“It’s okay,” I mutter against his skin, sliding out slightly and pushing back in.
His gasp is short and wavers as his tenses. His fingers dig into my arm but I ignore the pain flaring through my body.
“Ryan,” I whisper and I feel him instantly relax at the sound of his name. “Ryan, Ryan, Ryan.” He moans slightly, his body finally relaxing against me as I move.
It’s easier now and his fingers loosen. He lets me move inside him, thrusting carefully, not wanting to hurt him. The desk is moving beneath us, rubbing against the carpeted floor as I push into him and he groans out loud. His hand clings to my back now, his hips rocking up to meet mine.
I feel the flush rising on my skin, sweat beading on my forehead as I move deep inside him. The sounds of slapping skin and panted breaths surround us. His hips roll up against mine and I know I’ve hit the right spot when his fingers curl and his moan is loud against my shoulder. His teeth press down into it and he clings tighter to me.
I don’t slow down, moving hard now. I want to get off. I want to feel the rush exploding from my stomach. I want to know I was his first time with a guy.
Ryan’s mouth is pressed against my shoulder, his lips trembling as he gasps one last time and arches into me.
The muscles are hot and clenching and I can’t hold on when Ryan slides down, still holding on tightly to me. My thrusts are hard and erratic as I come, whispering words into his neck, his thighs slipping from my grip. His breaths are still short against me, but I smile and let him slide back onto the desk. His come is painting my stomach, but I don’t mind.
“Wow,” he breathes finally, meeting my eyes and quirking a smile.
I kiss him slowly, feeling his lips against mine, his tongue slipping into my mouth. He pulls away, smiling, and moves to my neck.
I let him, tilting it back and gazing at the computer. The screensaver changes from the same picture of the dog to another of Ryan and a dark-haired guy. He looks familiar too.
Then the picture changes to one of Ryan and a pretty blond girl. They’re both smiling, drinks in hand, and I realize where I know Ryan from.
Pushing at him, I stumble back from Ryan.
“What?” he asks, sliding off the desk and staring at me.
“Y-you were at the bar,” I say, realizing what has just happened.
“What bar?”
“The Fall.”
He looks confused, and then seems to realize. “That was you. You’re the guy with the drink.”
“And you’re the guy with the girlfriend.” I just helped someone cheat.
I can’t believe I just did that. Sure, some would say I do it everyday, but it’s different. The phone is not real. I’m just a voice behind it. But now, now, I’ve seen Ryan, I fucked him on the desk that just a few days ago was a mere image in my mind. Now it’s real. Ryan is real and he has a real girlfriend.
Ryan looks torn, glancing at the picture on the screen. “Brendon,” he says after a minute, but I really don’t want to hear whatever excuse he has.
Shaking my head against his fruitless explanations, I pull up my jeans and grab my shirt and jacket from the floor. I pull on my shirt and throw on the jacket before heading for the door.
“Brendon, wait,” he says desperately, stumbling after me. “Will you just-”
“No, I won’t just,” I snap. I don’t mean to sound so angry, but I can’t help it. My stomach is twisting itself into knots and I feel like a horrible person. “This isn’t like the phone. This is real. You are real. And that girl, she’s real.”
I turn then and practically run for the exit, punching the elevator and hating myself as it dings on the thirteenth floor and I step inside.
*
“Greta, I think I did something stupid.”
She turns around in her swivel chair to look at me. Her headset is perched on top of her head and she tilts it to the side.
“What did you do this time?”
That’s not fair. What? I don’t even deserve a, “Oh, I’m sure you didn’t. Tell me what happened,”? No. Everything is always my fault. Okay, admittedly, this probably is.
I sigh and push my chair inside. “You know the guy who calls at six every day?”
“Ah, the Mystery Office Boy?”
I cringe. He’s not so much of a super hero now.
“His name is Ryan.”
She nods slowly. “Ryan, huh? Well, what happened with Ryan?”
I hesitate, knowing how it’s going to sound, what she’s going to say. I hope she doesn’t tell Jon.
“I kind of met him, like, in real life.”
She doesn’t say anything, her lips pursed together as she listens.
“And that was fine. He was nice, hot, cool. And then we went to his office and well, you know.”
Greta just nods again, waiting for the end of my story.
“And then I found out he has a girlfriend.”
“Ah.” I know she understands.
Greta gets it. She works here with me. She knows that we’re just voices, just invisible people for others to get off with. We don’t really exist outside of our headsets and cubicles. People cheat all the time by calling us, but it’s not the same. We don’t exist to them. I exist to Ryan now.
That’s part of why Jon doesn’t understand my job. He doesn’t get that I can have phone sex with people who are doing God knows what at the same time. He sees it as the debauched morale of society.
Me, I’m a phone hooker. You pay three dollars a minute to hear me tell you how much I want to lick your back or bite your thighs.
But Greta understands.
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” And I really don’t know. What am I supposed to do? He’s my best client. Now it’s complicated, though. It’s too complicated.
“Honey,” Greta says, laying a comforting hand on my arm. “You’re just going to have to deal.”
I hate when people tell me that.
*
Six o’clock rolls around and my earpiece beeps. I stare at the clock for a few seconds and then ignore the call.
*
Jon picks me up at eight, his car grumbling in the parking lot as I slide in. He gives me a funny look and I avoid his eyes. I could never keep secrets, not even my own.
“Something’s wrong.”
Of course something is wrong. I helped a guy, who I kind of liked, cheat on his girlfriend, who probably has no idea.
I just grunt and stare out the window. Jon didn’t say anything this morning before I left, but he hadn’t had his coffee. He probably hadn’t been awake enough to notice.
“There’s no glow.”
There’s no glow. If this is what going to college gets you, I’m kind of glad I didn’t. I just sigh and stare out the window.
Chicago is a huge city with tons of people. Too many people, I think sometimes. Sometimes I miss Utah, even though it was filled with religious, strict people who looked down on me.
Jon keeps driving but sighs as we pull up to a stop light.
“What did you do?”
Again with the blaming me. Why is it always my fault?
“Nothing.”
“Come on, Bren. I know you. What happened? Did Mystery Office Boy not call today? Maybe he was just busy.”
“No, he called.” My voice sounds strange even to me. It’s tense and angry. I don’t usually get angry. I usually get sad.
Jon glances over at me as we turn a slow corner. “And?”
“And I didn’t answer it.”
“Why not?”
“Because he has a girlfriend.” Told you I couldn’t keep secrets.
“He told you this?”
I groan and let my head fall against the window. It’s kind of cold and maybe that wasn’t the best idea because it’s really cold. I pull my head away and frown.
“No, I saw her, sort of.”
Jon doesn’t say anything when we pull into our apartment parking lot. He turns off the car but doesn’t get out yet.
“You saw her? How? Did she appear to you in a vision?”
“No.” I feel like an idiot. “I went to his office and-”
“You what?!”
Jon is supposed to be calm, but I guess I didn’t take into account that he actually cares about me and doesn’t want me to die.
“I went to his office,” I say again, not looking at Jon’s horrified expression. “And we had sex, you know, like, yeah… and then I saw a picture of her.”
Jon is just staring at me and I know what he’s thinking. He’s not thinking about the girlfriend, or Ryan. He’s thinking that I’m crazy for meeting some guy I only know over the phone.
“That’s where you went last night?”
I nod slowly.
He sighs and sits back in the driver’s seat, rubbing his forehead. He’s frustrated with me. I don’t try to be like this, you know. Pouting, I stare at him. I’m sorry.
“I know I shouldn’t have.” I crawl into his lap, hugging him around the middle and hear his sigh and feel his arms fall over my shoulders. “But I wanted to see him.”
“Well.” He sounds like he’s giving in, but I still feel bad. “At least you didn’t die.”
“Only on the inside.”
“Don’t be so overdramatic.” He’s smiling now. I can hear it in his voice as he hugs me. I just want to stay like this for a while. Jon Walker gives the best hugs.
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” I wish I had any clue.
Jon is smart. Jon went to college. Jon should know. Right?
“Get a girlfriend?”
Apparently not.
“Jon,” I whine and he shifts, pushing me up.
“Get a boyfriend.”
“But he’s going to call. Do I just ignore him forever?”
“You could tell him to stop calling.” Jon sighs. “What is the issue with this? Because you slept with him? What, did you like him or something?”
“Or something,” I mumble.
“Oh my God,” Jon says after a minute and I know he’s figuring it out. “You like him. Like, really do. I thought he was just a client, like everyone else.”
“He’s not like everyone else.” And he isn’t. He’s sweet and doesn’t make me do stupid things, things that make me, the seasoned phone sex operator, still blush. I look forward to his calls every day at six. I try to figure out why it’s always at six and not four or five. I want to know more about him.
But now I do. And now, maybe that was a mistake.
Jon just rubs the back of his neck and opens his door. “So then act like it.”
Then Jon gets out of the car and I’m not sure exactly what that means.
*
I’m watching the clock. My last call just ended five minutes ago. I didn’t plan it. In fact, I had been trying to make it go longer, but the guy had mumbled something about a health inspection and hung up. I’ll try to get the name of the restaurant next time and remember not to go.
It’s 5:59 and I’m staring at the second hand as it ticks around the circular face of the clock. I’m not going to answer the phone when it beeps in less than thirty seconds.
Tick tick tick.
It’s six. The phone doesn’t beep.
I’m shocked. I take off the headset and look. It’s on. But not beeping.
I put it back on and click the button but nothing happens.
I sit back in my chair and stare up at the clock. It’s 6:01 now. He’s never late.
My stomach is twisting and I don’t know why. When the phone beeps five minutes later, it’s someone I’ve never heard before.
“Call me B,” I say and slump down in my chair.
*
The Fall is crowded as usual on Saturday night. Jon dragged me out, saying something about moping and ice cream being bad for my figure.
I’m sitting at our usual table watching whatever band it is that’s playing tonight set up. The guitarist is vaguely attractive, but I’m not really interested. I can’t stop thinking about Ryan and his girlfriend and his dog, and his white picket life that I ruined.
I never wanted to be the other woman, but he made me her. I at least thought that if I did become her, I would get to wear candy apple heels and a red corset, and glitter. I want glitter. If I don’t get glitter, I can’t be the other woman.
Jon isn’t at my table. He’s still talking to Patrick over by the bar, watching some guy down at the end. I told him he should just date a guy and get it over with.
I huff and turn back to the stage. The lead singer is kind of pretty too, in a girlish way. He is really thin with sharp hips and shoulder-length hair. He’s wearing a v-neck tee shirt and jeans tighter than mine. I wonder if he would be a good fuck.
But then some other dark-haired guy is pulling him off to the side and I see them kissing happily. Damn them.
Jon comes back, a drink in his hand and sighs down at me.
“Come on, Brendon,” he says, sliding a drink in front of me and patting my shoulder as I put my head down on the table. “Just have some fun.”
“I don’t want to have fun. I want to go watch Aladdin with a quart of Cookie Dough ice cream and try to remember when Disney was all I needed.”
Jon sighs and rests his hand on my back. “Disney isn’t real.”
“I know.” My voice is muffled in my arm. “But at least they don’t lie to me.”
Jon opens his mouth to say something, but must think better of it, because he just takes a sip of his drink and falls silent as we wait for the band to finish setting up.
*
It’s been five days since Ryan called last. According to my bosses, that’s two-hundred and twenty-five dollars lost for the business. Roughly. They know he stopped calling because they track everyone’s numbers and mine have gone down significantly in the past few days. They don’t know exactly who stopped calling, but they know someone did.
I try to supplement it by holding onto other customers longer. I only need to average an extra five minutes for three people a day to make up for what Ryan was paying. It works okay if I pretend hard, hold out my release for the people on the phone. Of course, it’s all fake, but they think it’s real.
I know I shouldn’t want the phone to beep at six and for it to be Ryan wanting to talk. I shouldn’t want to hear his excuses. I know what they are. I’ve heard it before.
I was just experimenting. She’s my sister! I do like you, but I don’t want to be with you. I’m not gay.
Yeah, I love that last one. Not gay but had another guy’s cock up your ass. That’s totally not gay.
It’s nearly eight and I’ll be getting off soon. It has been a long day of kinks and domination. On the bright side, I get two days off after this, so I can refuel, stop thinking about where my hands go on people’s imaginary bodies, how things would feel if it was me.
I feel like a bad porno writer sometimes.
It’s quarter to eight and I can almost feel Jon’s car rumbling towards the office. I can feel the heaters warming up the car in the chilly September evening. I stare at the clock and give a saddened moan when my headset beeps.
I hope I can get this over with in fifteen minutes.
“Call me B,” I answer, clicking the button.
There’s silence at first and I wonder if I got a dead line. The better for me.
I’m about to hang up when I hear a soft breath in the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hi.”
I recognize the voice immediately and freeze. I don’t respond.
“Um, I didn’t think you’d answer, or that you’d be there.”
I force myself to form words. “Well, I am.”
It isn’t much, but it is something. He sighs into the receiver and I wonder what he’s going to say.
“Listen, Brendon,” he says.
“B,” I interrupt him. I don’t want him calling me Brendon, not after what happened.
There’s a pause. “B. I wanted to… apologize. For the other night. You just, you don’t understand. Me and Keltie, we…”
“I don’t understand?” I say before he can finish his mumbled thought. “I understand that you have a girlfriend and that you cheated on her with a phone sex operator.”
The silence stretches between us but I know he’s still there. I can hear him breathing into the phone.
“It’s not technically cheating,” he offers weakly, and he and I both know it’s a pathetic excuse.
“Maybe not at first, but as soon as you suggested we meet, it was.”
I hate that I can actually see his hurt expression in my mind. I’m not even supposed to know what my clients look like.
“Well, I…” He pauses and I wonder for a moment where he is. Is he at work, shut up in his office, the camera pointed at the ceiling and the picture of his girlfriend flashing across his computer? “I didn’t mean to do it.”
I scoff. Everyone always means to do it. Sex doesn’t just happen by accident.
“I mean, when I first called here, me and Keltie -” Her name is Keltie, huh? “-we were kind of broken up. On a break anyway.”
I’m reminded forcibly of Friends and Ross and Rachel. This cannot end well.
“And I met you and, I just kind of always wondered if maybe I didn’t like girls as much as I thought.” He pauses and I can hear the pleading in his voice, the desperate need for me to listen and understand. “So I kept calling even after Keltie and I made up. And it was always better with you. Then I started noticing other guys, real guys, around me. I saw you at the bar that night and I thought it was exactly what you would look like even though I had no idea. And, I just, I want to know more about you.”
I don’t say anything for a minute. It still stings and he hasn’t said anything about his and Keltie’s relationship now.
“Well, you can’t,” I say finally, hating the waver in my voice. “You have a girlfriend.”
“Actually.” He stops and my heart leaps, unbidden. “I don’t. After you ran out on me, I realized I was being stupid. I shouldn’t be leading anyone on, you or Keltie. So I called her the next day and broke up with her.”
I’m not allowing myself to hope because I’ve been crushed in the past.
“So?”
“So, I was hoping that if you actually talked to me, we could really talk about this. But I don’t have a real number for you and you ignored me before.”
I pause. This could be bad and good at the same time.
“Well, are you still experimenting? Because I’m not interested in doing that with anyone and getting hurt.”
“No.” He laughs slightly. “I’m pretty sure I like guys, or you anyway.”
My heart should not be fluttering like this, but I feel really happy and I let it anyway.
I smile. “Well, I’m off for the next few days, but maybe if you call back on Tuesday at six, I might answer the phone.”
I can hear his smile through the receiver.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
It’s eight o’clock on the dot when I waltz down the stairs to the parking lot, and when I slide into the car, Jon just looks at me and says, “The glow is back.”
Maybe I’ll think of a better super hero name for Ryan.
*
FIN.
*
“Call me B.”
“Hey, it’s me.”
I smirk, turning around in the chair and telling myself that I wasn’t expecting his call. “Well, hello there, fancy you calling at a time like this.” It’s exactly six o’clock on the nose according to the little clock on my wall.
“Yeah, fancy that.” There’s a slight laugh in his voice and he sounds happier than when I last talked to him.
“How are you?”
There’s a pause and he sighs. “I, um, I wanted to apologize for hanging up so quickly last time.”
“Oh.” I’m surprised. People don’t usually apologize to me. I get a lot of dropped calls and hastily hung up phones. “Uh, well, thanks? I mean, it’s okay.”
“Yeah.” His voice is returning to the familiar monotonous tone that I’m used to. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” Most people don’t ask me questions.
“Did… Is what you told me before, was it true?”
I pause. I could tell him it was all a lie and then he would know nothing about me again. I would go back to being Anonymous B. That’s a cool super hero name too.
“No, yeah,” I say, though. “It was true.”
He lets out a relieved breath and I smile.
“Why? Scared I was lying to you?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he mutters and I wonder exactly what that means.
I pause a second. “What do you feel like doing today?”
There’s an even longer pause and I think that he hung up for a minute, but then I hear his breathing close to the phone as though he’s even closer now.
“Seeing you.”
I freeze even though he can’t see me. “What?”
The pause is tense and I hope I heard wrong.
“I want to see you.”
Okay, apparently my hearing is good. Damn it. I don’t know what to do. I’m not supposed to meet these people. It’s not against company rules, but it’s highly discouraged for our own safety.
“Well, you can,” I say slowly. “In your mind, whenever you wa-”
“No,” he interrupts. “Like, in real life.”
I should not be doing this. I should not even be thinking about saying yes. But a little part of me wants to. That little part that wants to know how they get people on television, how they make red bull so amazing, that part wants to say yes. I can’t help being curious. It’s a blessing and a curse. It took me a long time to figure that out. Too long.
“I… I don’t know,” I say, uneasy. I don’t really like the idea of meeting a stranger I only know over the phone. I mean, he could be completely crazy, a psycho killer and I’m walking right into his trap.
Okay, so I don’t actually believe that, but any rational person would tell me that and I should listen to them.
“I…” He hesitates and I know he’s just as nervous about this as I am. “I want to meet you, see you. I want to know what you look like. I… I want to know what it really feels like.”
This is crazy. I should have hung up the minute he said it, but I didn’t. Why didn’t I?
“I don’t know,” I say again. “I mean, this isn’t - It’s not… well, it’s just…”
“I know it’s weird, and awkward,” he says quickly. “But I thought that maybe we could just see. I just, I feel so trapped. I just want to see if maybe there’s something else.”
I don’t think he’s just talking about phone sex now.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m considering it!
“Well.” I’m hesitating because some responsible part of my brain tells me I should think more about it. But the responsible part was always overruled by another part, which is what happens. “I guess we could.”
“Really?” The happiness in his voice is enough to make me think I made the right decision.
“Yeah. Um, do you want to meet somewhere?”
“Yeah, there’s a park by my office kind of.”
And we make plans to meet at this park. I hang up that evening hoping I haven’t just made a huge mistake.
*
We meet at night, which in retrospect, probably wasn’t the best idea. But I don’t really have days off and I work all the rest of the time. So I drag myself to this park in the center of town that is surrounded by towering buildings and I wait by the entrance. There’s no fucking way I’m going inside the dark, gloomy park alone.
I did tell Jon where I was going, but not why. He would have stopped me or at least tried to talk me out of it. But I told him to call the police if I wasn’t back by the morning. He’d given me a weird look, but I think didn’t follow me.
I’m standing at the entrance to the park, mace in one pocket and my cell phone in the other, the police on speed dial. I really hope this wasn’t a bad idea.
I turn sharply when I hear footsteps behind me on the grass and see a dark shape trudging across the lawn towards me.
I’m a little scared, I’ll admit it. I have been known to have very bad ideas and make lots of mistakes in my life. I was kind of hoping this wouldn’t be one of those times.
I bite my lip as the figure gets closer and my fingers tighten over the mace. You can never be too careful in the big city.
Then the figure stops, standing under one of the orange streetlights, his hands stuck inside his jacket pockets and staring at me. I can’t make out much of his face from here but don’t move closer just yet.
“B?” he asks finally and I blink. So it’s him.
“Yeah,” I say carefully, taking a step forward and watching him closely.
I see his mouth in the shadow quirk into a smile, so I come closer again, finally stepping into the light and letting it flood over me.
He stands before me, a few inches taller, but he’s hunched over a little. He runs his tongue over his lips as his eyes rise to mine.
“Hey,” he says and I feel the warm flutter of familiarity at the greeting.
“Hi.” I pause. He looks sort of familiar, but I can’t place him. It’s like I’ve seen him before somewhere else.
He has a thin body and brown hair that flops into his eyes in the wind. His eyes are dark in the light, but they look kind of hazel as he looks up at me.
“So,” I say, smiling nervously. “Um.”
“Thanks,” he says quickly when I stall for words. “For meeting me, I mean. I wasn’t sure you would.”
“Yeah, me neither.” I laugh slightly, biting my lip. His eyes fall to it and he pauses.
“I-uh, I’m Ryan,” he says, and in a way, I kind of knew that already. He looks like a Ryan.
“Yeah,” I reply. This is awkward.
He pauses too as though he doesn’t know what to do. I’m not sure he even knows why he really wanted to see me.
“It’s kind of cold,” he says after a minute and I shrug. It is getting kind of cold. Autumn is coming. “My office is right over there.” He points to one of the tall white buildings and I follow it up at least twenty stories. “W-we could…”
I get what he’s trying to offer, and as much as I know it’s stupid and irresponsible, I still want to do it.
“Yeah, we could,” I finish, smiling slightly and feeling better when he really smiles and nods, turning and leading the way from the park entrance.
I loosen my hold on the mace and concentrate on checking out his ass as we cross the street and head inside.
It’s a long ride up to his office on the thirteenth floor. I think about saying something about it being on the thirteenth floor, but I’ve put my foot in my mouth too many times to count, so I don’t.
He unlocks a glass door and we weave through a maze of cubicles until we make it to the edge where bigger offices with actual walls line it. Ryan leads us to one and lets me in.
Inside, it’s almost exactly how I pictured it. The chair isn’t black leather and there is no picture on the desk. There are neatly organized papers, though, and the computer’s screensaver is flashing pictures. I catch sight of one of a Beagle and smile. I knew it.
Ryan looks nervous as he slides off his jacket and moves over to the security camera on the wall. He scratches his neck for a second before pushing it up so that it’s staring at the wall and not at the desk.
He smiles back at me slowly, still unsure.
I know what he wants to do, what he wants me to do. I’ve been doing it on the phone for over a year.
He leans back against the desk, his jacket on the chair behind it as he looks at me, his eyes flicking nervously down my body, taking me in.
He’s pretty hot too, I think, as he bites his lip and practically pleads with his eyes.
“So, Ryan,” I say, moving forward and shrugging off my jacket in the process. “Why did you want to meet me?”
“I-I wanted to see you,” he murmurs, watching my hands toss the jacket onto another chair.
“Yeah?” I ask, moving forward. I’m trying to be confident here, and it’s sort of working. His nerves make me feel better. “You wanted to see me? You wanted to feel me, you said.”
He nods, and I can see his hands trembling as he braces himself against the desk. I slide forward, pulling my shirt off. It rumples my hair, but he’s just staring at my chest when I slip in between his legs.
His gasp is quiet and scared. He stares up at me and I can see the fear in the swirling green and gold irises.
I pause. “Have you ever done this before?”
Swallowing, he shakes his head. “Not in real life,” he admits quietly, his expression worried as he stares up.
It’s starting to make sense now, but I push away the thought as he bites his lip again and blinks up at me. He’s very pretty and I’d be stupid to turn him down.
I just nod at his answer, then, and lean forward, bringing his lips to mine in what is probably his first guy-on-guy kiss. I go slow, careful, fitting our lips together as easily as possible. He’s kissed someone before, I can tell that much at least.
He’s trembling as I lift a hand to his cheek, holding him in the kiss and sliding my tongue against his lips. I can feel where he’s been chewing on them probably all afternoon. They’re soft and pliable under mine and he lets out a small whimper against me.
Usually, I’m not the experienced one, but this is a nice change of pace.
Ryan melts against me, an arm sliding over my shoulders and tugging me closer. He’s practically sitting on the desk now, my body tucked against his as we kiss. His moan reverberates in my mouth and I kiss him harder, sliding my hand down his cheek to his neck. I run it through his soft hair once and feel him sigh against my mouth.
When I pull away, he’s breathing harder and I recognize the sound from the phone. I smile softly and kiss him again, a little faster.
He’s reacting, which is a good sign. His hand is on my bare side and jumps only slightly when he realizes.
“B,” he mutters against my mouth and I feel a slight twinge in my stomach.
“Uh,” I say, pulling away and panting against his lips. His hand rests lightly on my side. “Call me Brendon.”
He pauses, and then smiles slightly. “Brendon.”
He has no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear him say that instead of “B”.
I smile back and kiss him again, pushing him up against the desk. His groan isn’t as quiet as it usually is, but I figure that’s because we’re alone in the building now except a few rogue security guards.
He feels just like I imagined. His skin is smooth beneath my touch and he falls into it when I push up his shirt and run my fingers over his lower back.
He arches into my touch, biting at my lips like he’s wanted this forever but could never have it. I can feel him growing hard against my thigh.
“Fuck, Brendon,” he pants, pulling away to gasp for air before he’s back against my lips.
I don’t say anything, too distracted with the way his hands drag up my sides and wishing he wasn’t wearing as many clothes as he is.
There’s only one way to fix that. Moving back, I tug at his shirt, stripping it off and throwing it with mine. His eyes widen for a second as though he’s realizing what he’s doing.
It’s gone, though, when I lean in, trailing my lips down his neck and over his shoulder. His head falls back and his mouth opens as well, letting out small gasps when I nip at the skin. His hand is in my hair as I move, sliding down his collar bone.
My tongue is hot against his skin and he whimpers into the touch, looking down, his eyes now glazed as he stares. I smirk and move back up, taking his lips in a rough kiss that he pushes back against, wanting even more.
His arms are wrapped around my neck and his hips are rutting against mine. He’s completely hard now and he pulls away panting, burying his face in my neck. He’s going to come too quickly if we’re not careful.
Pushing him away gently, I smile and he gazes up at me.
“In a minute,” I murmur, my hands going for his slacks, unbuttoning them and pushing them over his thighs. He has thin legs, but he’s well-endowed anyway, not that I’m complaining. He swallows again and I can sense the nerves returning.
But the pants are gone and I kiss him quickly, setting him up on the desk and undoing my jeans too. He looks a little fearful again.
“You want to do this?” I ask and he nods a little shakily. “Okay.” I reach into my pants pocket and pull out a condom because it doesn’t hurt to be prepared. If Jon has taught me one thing in all the time I’ve known him, it’s that.
Ryan’s eyes flick from the plastic wrapper to me and down to my cock, that’s hard and throbbing just thinking about fucking this really hot guy on his desk in front of me. His lip is shaking again, but he doesn’t say anything as I roll the condom on. Instead, he leans back, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small tube of lube. He obviously thought about this.
He smiles carefully as he presses it into my hand, and I laugh, biting my bottom lip. The look on his face shoots straight to my groin, all need and want as he listens to my laugh. Maybe I was right and that does it for him.
“It’s gonna hurt,” I warn him and he nods like he knows.
The initial push is slow and I can feel the burning heat engulfing my cock. It feels so good and I’m reminded of how long it’s been since I did this with a real person and not just a phone and my hand.
Ryan is grasping my arms tightly with each little push, each slide that moves me deeper. His eyes are shut tightly and he’s clenching his teeth.
“Relax,” I breathe against his shoulder, pulling his legs up to my sides for an easier angle. I can feel his nod and the breath he lets out, slow and steady. It’s not like his usual breathing that I hear through the phone. This time it’s hard and stuttered, panting against my skin and catching every few seconds when I shift.
The heat is overwhelming and I can’t for the life of me remember why I thought this was a bad idea. Ryan’s body is tight and clenching around my cock. I know it’s uncomfortable for him. It’s new and I remember my first time. I remember thinking I never wanted to do it again.
“It’s okay,” I mutter against his skin, sliding out slightly and pushing back in.
His gasp is short and wavers as his tenses. His fingers dig into my arm but I ignore the pain flaring through my body.
“Ryan,” I whisper and I feel him instantly relax at the sound of his name. “Ryan, Ryan, Ryan.” He moans slightly, his body finally relaxing against me as I move.
It’s easier now and his fingers loosen. He lets me move inside him, thrusting carefully, not wanting to hurt him. The desk is moving beneath us, rubbing against the carpeted floor as I push into him and he groans out loud. His hand clings to my back now, his hips rocking up to meet mine.
I feel the flush rising on my skin, sweat beading on my forehead as I move deep inside him. The sounds of slapping skin and panted breaths surround us. His hips roll up against mine and I know I’ve hit the right spot when his fingers curl and his moan is loud against my shoulder. His teeth press down into it and he clings tighter to me.
I don’t slow down, moving hard now. I want to get off. I want to feel the rush exploding from my stomach. I want to know I was his first time with a guy.
Ryan’s mouth is pressed against my shoulder, his lips trembling as he gasps one last time and arches into me.
The muscles are hot and clenching and I can’t hold on when Ryan slides down, still holding on tightly to me. My thrusts are hard and erratic as I come, whispering words into his neck, his thighs slipping from my grip. His breaths are still short against me, but I smile and let him slide back onto the desk. His come is painting my stomach, but I don’t mind.
“Wow,” he breathes finally, meeting my eyes and quirking a smile.
I kiss him slowly, feeling his lips against mine, his tongue slipping into my mouth. He pulls away, smiling, and moves to my neck.
I let him, tilting it back and gazing at the computer. The screensaver changes from the same picture of the dog to another of Ryan and a dark-haired guy. He looks familiar too.
Then the picture changes to one of Ryan and a pretty blond girl. They’re both smiling, drinks in hand, and I realize where I know Ryan from.
Pushing at him, I stumble back from Ryan.
“What?” he asks, sliding off the desk and staring at me.
“Y-you were at the bar,” I say, realizing what has just happened.
“What bar?”
“The Fall.”
He looks confused, and then seems to realize. “That was you. You’re the guy with the drink.”
“And you’re the guy with the girlfriend.” I just helped someone cheat.
I can’t believe I just did that. Sure, some would say I do it everyday, but it’s different. The phone is not real. I’m just a voice behind it. But now, now, I’ve seen Ryan, I fucked him on the desk that just a few days ago was a mere image in my mind. Now it’s real. Ryan is real and he has a real girlfriend.
Ryan looks torn, glancing at the picture on the screen. “Brendon,” he says after a minute, but I really don’t want to hear whatever excuse he has.
Shaking my head against his fruitless explanations, I pull up my jeans and grab my shirt and jacket from the floor. I pull on my shirt and throw on the jacket before heading for the door.
“Brendon, wait,” he says desperately, stumbling after me. “Will you just-”
“No, I won’t just,” I snap. I don’t mean to sound so angry, but I can’t help it. My stomach is twisting itself into knots and I feel like a horrible person. “This isn’t like the phone. This is real. You are real. And that girl, she’s real.”
I turn then and practically run for the exit, punching the elevator and hating myself as it dings on the thirteenth floor and I step inside.
*
“Greta, I think I did something stupid.”
She turns around in her swivel chair to look at me. Her headset is perched on top of her head and she tilts it to the side.
“What did you do this time?”
That’s not fair. What? I don’t even deserve a, “Oh, I’m sure you didn’t. Tell me what happened,”? No. Everything is always my fault. Okay, admittedly, this probably is.
I sigh and push my chair inside. “You know the guy who calls at six every day?”
“Ah, the Mystery Office Boy?”
I cringe. He’s not so much of a super hero now.
“His name is Ryan.”
She nods slowly. “Ryan, huh? Well, what happened with Ryan?”
I hesitate, knowing how it’s going to sound, what she’s going to say. I hope she doesn’t tell Jon.
“I kind of met him, like, in real life.”
She doesn’t say anything, her lips pursed together as she listens.
“And that was fine. He was nice, hot, cool. And then we went to his office and well, you know.”
Greta just nods again, waiting for the end of my story.
“And then I found out he has a girlfriend.”
“Ah.” I know she understands.
Greta gets it. She works here with me. She knows that we’re just voices, just invisible people for others to get off with. We don’t really exist outside of our headsets and cubicles. People cheat all the time by calling us, but it’s not the same. We don’t exist to them. I exist to Ryan now.
That’s part of why Jon doesn’t understand my job. He doesn’t get that I can have phone sex with people who are doing God knows what at the same time. He sees it as the debauched morale of society.
Me, I’m a phone hooker. You pay three dollars a minute to hear me tell you how much I want to lick your back or bite your thighs.
But Greta understands.
“What are you going to do?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” And I really don’t know. What am I supposed to do? He’s my best client. Now it’s complicated, though. It’s too complicated.
“Honey,” Greta says, laying a comforting hand on my arm. “You’re just going to have to deal.”
I hate when people tell me that.
*
Six o’clock rolls around and my earpiece beeps. I stare at the clock for a few seconds and then ignore the call.
*
Jon picks me up at eight, his car grumbling in the parking lot as I slide in. He gives me a funny look and I avoid his eyes. I could never keep secrets, not even my own.
“Something’s wrong.”
Of course something is wrong. I helped a guy, who I kind of liked, cheat on his girlfriend, who probably has no idea.
I just grunt and stare out the window. Jon didn’t say anything this morning before I left, but he hadn’t had his coffee. He probably hadn’t been awake enough to notice.
“There’s no glow.”
There’s no glow. If this is what going to college gets you, I’m kind of glad I didn’t. I just sigh and stare out the window.
Chicago is a huge city with tons of people. Too many people, I think sometimes. Sometimes I miss Utah, even though it was filled with religious, strict people who looked down on me.
Jon keeps driving but sighs as we pull up to a stop light.
“What did you do?”
Again with the blaming me. Why is it always my fault?
“Nothing.”
“Come on, Bren. I know you. What happened? Did Mystery Office Boy not call today? Maybe he was just busy.”
“No, he called.” My voice sounds strange even to me. It’s tense and angry. I don’t usually get angry. I usually get sad.
Jon glances over at me as we turn a slow corner. “And?”
“And I didn’t answer it.”
“Why not?”
“Because he has a girlfriend.” Told you I couldn’t keep secrets.
“He told you this?”
I groan and let my head fall against the window. It’s kind of cold and maybe that wasn’t the best idea because it’s really cold. I pull my head away and frown.
“No, I saw her, sort of.”
Jon doesn’t say anything when we pull into our apartment parking lot. He turns off the car but doesn’t get out yet.
“You saw her? How? Did she appear to you in a vision?”
“No.” I feel like an idiot. “I went to his office and-”
“You what?!”
Jon is supposed to be calm, but I guess I didn’t take into account that he actually cares about me and doesn’t want me to die.
“I went to his office,” I say again, not looking at Jon’s horrified expression. “And we had sex, you know, like, yeah… and then I saw a picture of her.”
Jon is just staring at me and I know what he’s thinking. He’s not thinking about the girlfriend, or Ryan. He’s thinking that I’m crazy for meeting some guy I only know over the phone.
“That’s where you went last night?”
I nod slowly.
He sighs and sits back in the driver’s seat, rubbing his forehead. He’s frustrated with me. I don’t try to be like this, you know. Pouting, I stare at him. I’m sorry.
“I know I shouldn’t have.” I crawl into his lap, hugging him around the middle and hear his sigh and feel his arms fall over my shoulders. “But I wanted to see him.”
“Well.” He sounds like he’s giving in, but I still feel bad. “At least you didn’t die.”
“Only on the inside.”
“Don’t be so overdramatic.” He’s smiling now. I can hear it in his voice as he hugs me. I just want to stay like this for a while. Jon Walker gives the best hugs.
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” I wish I had any clue.
Jon is smart. Jon went to college. Jon should know. Right?
“Get a girlfriend?”
Apparently not.
“Jon,” I whine and he shifts, pushing me up.
“Get a boyfriend.”
“But he’s going to call. Do I just ignore him forever?”
“You could tell him to stop calling.” Jon sighs. “What is the issue with this? Because you slept with him? What, did you like him or something?”
“Or something,” I mumble.
“Oh my God,” Jon says after a minute and I know he’s figuring it out. “You like him. Like, really do. I thought he was just a client, like everyone else.”
“He’s not like everyone else.” And he isn’t. He’s sweet and doesn’t make me do stupid things, things that make me, the seasoned phone sex operator, still blush. I look forward to his calls every day at six. I try to figure out why it’s always at six and not four or five. I want to know more about him.
But now I do. And now, maybe that was a mistake.
Jon just rubs the back of his neck and opens his door. “So then act like it.”
Then Jon gets out of the car and I’m not sure exactly what that means.
*
I’m watching the clock. My last call just ended five minutes ago. I didn’t plan it. In fact, I had been trying to make it go longer, but the guy had mumbled something about a health inspection and hung up. I’ll try to get the name of the restaurant next time and remember not to go.
It’s 5:59 and I’m staring at the second hand as it ticks around the circular face of the clock. I’m not going to answer the phone when it beeps in less than thirty seconds.
Tick tick tick.
It’s six. The phone doesn’t beep.
I’m shocked. I take off the headset and look. It’s on. But not beeping.
I put it back on and click the button but nothing happens.
I sit back in my chair and stare up at the clock. It’s 6:01 now. He’s never late.
My stomach is twisting and I don’t know why. When the phone beeps five minutes later, it’s someone I’ve never heard before.
“Call me B,” I say and slump down in my chair.
*
The Fall is crowded as usual on Saturday night. Jon dragged me out, saying something about moping and ice cream being bad for my figure.
I’m sitting at our usual table watching whatever band it is that’s playing tonight set up. The guitarist is vaguely attractive, but I’m not really interested. I can’t stop thinking about Ryan and his girlfriend and his dog, and his white picket life that I ruined.
I never wanted to be the other woman, but he made me her. I at least thought that if I did become her, I would get to wear candy apple heels and a red corset, and glitter. I want glitter. If I don’t get glitter, I can’t be the other woman.
Jon isn’t at my table. He’s still talking to Patrick over by the bar, watching some guy down at the end. I told him he should just date a guy and get it over with.
I huff and turn back to the stage. The lead singer is kind of pretty too, in a girlish way. He is really thin with sharp hips and shoulder-length hair. He’s wearing a v-neck tee shirt and jeans tighter than mine. I wonder if he would be a good fuck.
But then some other dark-haired guy is pulling him off to the side and I see them kissing happily. Damn them.
Jon comes back, a drink in his hand and sighs down at me.
“Come on, Brendon,” he says, sliding a drink in front of me and patting my shoulder as I put my head down on the table. “Just have some fun.”
“I don’t want to have fun. I want to go watch Aladdin with a quart of Cookie Dough ice cream and try to remember when Disney was all I needed.”
Jon sighs and rests his hand on my back. “Disney isn’t real.”
“I know.” My voice is muffled in my arm. “But at least they don’t lie to me.”
Jon opens his mouth to say something, but must think better of it, because he just takes a sip of his drink and falls silent as we wait for the band to finish setting up.
*
It’s been five days since Ryan called last. According to my bosses, that’s two-hundred and twenty-five dollars lost for the business. Roughly. They know he stopped calling because they track everyone’s numbers and mine have gone down significantly in the past few days. They don’t know exactly who stopped calling, but they know someone did.
I try to supplement it by holding onto other customers longer. I only need to average an extra five minutes for three people a day to make up for what Ryan was paying. It works okay if I pretend hard, hold out my release for the people on the phone. Of course, it’s all fake, but they think it’s real.
I know I shouldn’t want the phone to beep at six and for it to be Ryan wanting to talk. I shouldn’t want to hear his excuses. I know what they are. I’ve heard it before.
I was just experimenting. She’s my sister! I do like you, but I don’t want to be with you. I’m not gay.
Yeah, I love that last one. Not gay but had another guy’s cock up your ass. That’s totally not gay.
It’s nearly eight and I’ll be getting off soon. It has been a long day of kinks and domination. On the bright side, I get two days off after this, so I can refuel, stop thinking about where my hands go on people’s imaginary bodies, how things would feel if it was me.
I feel like a bad porno writer sometimes.
It’s quarter to eight and I can almost feel Jon’s car rumbling towards the office. I can feel the heaters warming up the car in the chilly September evening. I stare at the clock and give a saddened moan when my headset beeps.
I hope I can get this over with in fifteen minutes.
“Call me B,” I answer, clicking the button.
There’s silence at first and I wonder if I got a dead line. The better for me.
I’m about to hang up when I hear a soft breath in the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hi.”
I recognize the voice immediately and freeze. I don’t respond.
“Um, I didn’t think you’d answer, or that you’d be there.”
I force myself to form words. “Well, I am.”
It isn’t much, but it is something. He sighs into the receiver and I wonder what he’s going to say.
“Listen, Brendon,” he says.
“B,” I interrupt him. I don’t want him calling me Brendon, not after what happened.
There’s a pause. “B. I wanted to… apologize. For the other night. You just, you don’t understand. Me and Keltie, we…”
“I don’t understand?” I say before he can finish his mumbled thought. “I understand that you have a girlfriend and that you cheated on her with a phone sex operator.”
The silence stretches between us but I know he’s still there. I can hear him breathing into the phone.
“It’s not technically cheating,” he offers weakly, and he and I both know it’s a pathetic excuse.
“Maybe not at first, but as soon as you suggested we meet, it was.”
I hate that I can actually see his hurt expression in my mind. I’m not even supposed to know what my clients look like.
“Well, I…” He pauses and I wonder for a moment where he is. Is he at work, shut up in his office, the camera pointed at the ceiling and the picture of his girlfriend flashing across his computer? “I didn’t mean to do it.”
I scoff. Everyone always means to do it. Sex doesn’t just happen by accident.
“I mean, when I first called here, me and Keltie -” Her name is Keltie, huh? “-we were kind of broken up. On a break anyway.”
I’m reminded forcibly of Friends and Ross and Rachel. This cannot end well.
“And I met you and, I just kind of always wondered if maybe I didn’t like girls as much as I thought.” He pauses and I can hear the pleading in his voice, the desperate need for me to listen and understand. “So I kept calling even after Keltie and I made up. And it was always better with you. Then I started noticing other guys, real guys, around me. I saw you at the bar that night and I thought it was exactly what you would look like even though I had no idea. And, I just, I want to know more about you.”
I don’t say anything for a minute. It still stings and he hasn’t said anything about his and Keltie’s relationship now.
“Well, you can’t,” I say finally, hating the waver in my voice. “You have a girlfriend.”
“Actually.” He stops and my heart leaps, unbidden. “I don’t. After you ran out on me, I realized I was being stupid. I shouldn’t be leading anyone on, you or Keltie. So I called her the next day and broke up with her.”
I’m not allowing myself to hope because I’ve been crushed in the past.
“So?”
“So, I was hoping that if you actually talked to me, we could really talk about this. But I don’t have a real number for you and you ignored me before.”
I pause. This could be bad and good at the same time.
“Well, are you still experimenting? Because I’m not interested in doing that with anyone and getting hurt.”
“No.” He laughs slightly. “I’m pretty sure I like guys, or you anyway.”
My heart should not be fluttering like this, but I feel really happy and I let it anyway.
I smile. “Well, I’m off for the next few days, but maybe if you call back on Tuesday at six, I might answer the phone.”
I can hear his smile through the receiver.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
It’s eight o’clock on the dot when I waltz down the stairs to the parking lot, and when I slide into the car, Jon just looks at me and says, “The glow is back.”
Maybe I’ll think of a better super hero name for Ryan.
*
FIN.