than just a disembodied voice on the other end of the phone. I’d love a real name to go with that voice. My name is Richard.”
Rachel felt herself flush. She took a drink from the glass of water next to her. This guy was trying to mess with her head. He didn’t want sex—he wanted to harass her.
“I’m sorry. You must be confused, sir. This is a 900 line. Not a chat line. Goodbye.” She hung up and then instantly regretted it. He had sounded so sexy! Why had she reacted so quickly, hanging up just because he had asked her name?
She didn’t have time to think about it because the phone rang again. Three rings and then, “Hello, this is Velvet. What can I do for you?”
“We were disconnected.”
It was him! Richard. Though he’d only said a few words, there was no doubt. The voice was as sexy and commanding as ever. But how could he have gotten her again? The assignment was random, with calls forwarded from the service to whoever was free. She wasn’t sure exactly how many other women were on the payroll, but she was reasonably sure the odds of his getting her again on the second call were impossibly high.
She blurted, “How did you get me?”
“Oh I haven’t gotten you yet. But I will, never fear.” Rachel digested that a moment and then hung up the phone again.
Who was this guy? Why was her hand trembling? She was being an idiot. She was losing billable time by hanging up on him every minute.
The phone rang again.
“Hello, this is Velvet.” She waited, forgetting to say the rest of her canned introduction. This time it was someone named Frank. She felt relieved and then curiously deflated. As she switched to automatic, mouthing the sexy things Frank wanted to hear, she realized how stupid she had been. Of course that Richard person could reach her. It cost more, but one could dial a special number and ask for a particular girl, if she were available.
She finished Frank off, glancing at the clock. Eleven-twenty. She wouldn’t mind if no one else called tonight, she lied to herself. When the phone rang a few minutes later, she jumped. Grabbing it, she said, “Hello, this is Velvet. I’m here for your pleasure. What can I do for you tonight?”
“You can stop hanging up on me. And you can tell me your name.”
Rachel took a deep breath. Someone on the other end of the phone was interested in her! Not in Velvet, “sex goddess”, but in Rachel, the girl with the voice like—what had he said?—butterscotch and sex? Something like that.
Rachel closed her eyes, imaging for a moment she was Angelique, one of her favorite characters, able to handle anything that came her way. This was an adventure! Why should she hang up again? She was behaving like a silly kid. She was being rude! And what was the risk? He didn’t know where she lived or who she was. All he had was a 900 number. And he sounded sexy. At least he was different from the usual run-of-the-mill horndog with his hand in his pants.
“Richard? What can I do for you, sexy? Want to know what I’m wearing?”
“No thanks. You’d only lie.” She pursed her lips, smiling slightly. The guys were usually only too eager to believe whatever stories she cared to hand them. It was understood that what she was selling was fantasy.
“Well, uh, what can I do for you then? Tell me your most secret fantasy.”
“I’d rather hear yours.” Ah, she was back on familiar territory. He might have a sexy voice but he was just like the others after all. Rachel started to tell him about his big cock and how she wanted to ride him like a stallion until she screamed with pleasure.
“Shh, stop that. Hush.” Richard interrupted her. “Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me the truth. Trust me.” His voice was soothing, calming, as if he were talking to a little girl in need of comfort. Rachel was again taken aback, thrown off her stride. Who was this man?
She tried again to tell him one of her standard male fantasies but he
Rachel felt herself flush. She took a drink from the glass of water next to her. This guy was trying to mess with her head. He didn’t want sex—he wanted to harass her.
“I’m sorry. You must be confused, sir. This is a 900 line. Not a chat line. Goodbye.” She hung up and then instantly regretted it. He had sounded so sexy! Why had she reacted so quickly, hanging up just because he had asked her name?
She didn’t have time to think about it because the phone rang again. Three rings and then, “Hello, this is Velvet. What can I do for you?”
“We were disconnected.”
It was him! Richard. Though he’d only said a few words, there was no doubt. The voice was as sexy and commanding as ever. But how could he have gotten her again? The assignment was random, with calls forwarded from the service to whoever was free. She wasn’t sure exactly how many other women were on the payroll, but she was reasonably sure the odds of his getting her again on the second call were impossibly high.
She blurted, “How did you get me?”
“Oh I haven’t gotten you yet. But I will, never fear.” Rachel digested that a moment and then hung up the phone again.
Who was this guy? Why was her hand trembling? She was being an idiot. She was losing billable time by hanging up on him every minute.
The phone rang again.
“Hello, this is Velvet.” She waited, forgetting to say the rest of her canned introduction. This time it was someone named Frank. She felt relieved and then curiously deflated. As she switched to automatic, mouthing the sexy things Frank wanted to hear, she realized how stupid she had been. Of course that Richard person could reach her. It cost more, but one could dial a special number and ask for a particular girl, if she were available.
She finished Frank off, glancing at the clock. Eleven-twenty. She wouldn’t mind if no one else called tonight, she lied to herself. When the phone rang a few minutes later, she jumped. Grabbing it, she said, “Hello, this is Velvet. I’m here for your pleasure. What can I do for you tonight?”
“You can stop hanging up on me. And you can tell me your name.”
Rachel took a deep breath. Someone on the other end of the phone was interested in her! Not in Velvet, “sex goddess”, but in Rachel, the girl with the voice like—what had he said?—butterscotch and sex? Something like that.
Rachel closed her eyes, imaging for a moment she was Angelique, one of her favorite characters, able to handle anything that came her way. This was an adventure! Why should she hang up again? She was behaving like a silly kid. She was being rude! And what was the risk? He didn’t know where she lived or who she was. All he had was a 900 number. And he sounded sexy. At least he was different from the usual run-of-the-mill horndog with his hand in his pants.
“Richard? What can I do for you, sexy? Want to know what I’m wearing?”
“No thanks. You’d only lie.” She pursed her lips, smiling slightly. The guys were usually only too eager to believe whatever stories she cared to hand them. It was understood that what she was selling was fantasy.
“Well, uh, what can I do for you then? Tell me your most secret fantasy.”
“I’d rather hear yours.” Ah, she was back on familiar territory. He might have a sexy voice but he was just like the others after all. Rachel started to tell him about his big cock and how she wanted to ride him like a stallion until she screamed with pleasure.
“Shh, stop that. Hush.” Richard interrupted her. “Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me the truth. Trust me.” His voice was soothing, calming, as if he were talking to a little girl in need of comfort. Rachel was again taken aback, thrown off her stride. Who was this man?
She tried again to tell him one of her standard male fantasies but he
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