by Jade West
“Don’t be like that,” she said. “Just tone it down, ok? That’s all we’re asking.”
I squeezed Tessa’s arm on the way past, horrified to find her as pale as I was. There were some words I didn’t catch, and Tessa was after me, following me through to the main doors with no sign of blondie in tow.
My tears were flowing by the time she caught up with me.
“Christ, Gem, I’m sorry. That was a right fucking pig’s ear back there.”
“Enlightening...” I said.
“You know what she’s like. Anything over a size minus zero can’t possibly be desirable, nobody really thinks that. She means well, you know she does. She’s just worried about you.”
“Yeah, well, I was doing just fine before all that shit.”
“Forget it, then. Forget she said anything.”
“I intend to,” I said. “It’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard.”
She pulled me into a hug, but I was tense. “I’m sorry for my part in it.” I knew she was, too. Poor Tessa always gets dragged into Chelsea’s shit. “Shall I come with you? We could get takeout and watch late night TV.”
I shook my head. “I’ll grab the late hour at work. It’s your first Saturday off in weeks, enjoy it.”
“Only if you’re sure...”
I smiled. “I’m good. I’m fine. I’ll forget all about it once the pervs start calling.”
Only I didn’t forget about it.
***
Chapter Two
Gemma
I made it home with just enough time to fire up my laptop for the one a.m. shift. There was no way on this planet Chelsea would let Tessa home before four, so I settled down on the sofa to log into Lust Line’s internal messenger. Sheena was on supervisor shift tonight.
RS443 Gemma: How are the lines, Shee? Shall I log in?
I watched the typing icon flash.
RS337 Sheena: You’re a superstar. Lines are crazy.
I signed into the main system, waiting for my status to change to LIVE. My handset was at my side, battery fully charged, and I was ready, pushing aside all the shit at the club and settling myself into my role.
Lucy. Twenty-one years old. Slim. Blonde. Cute, perky little tits. Interests include jilling off to men on the phone, hitting the gym every morning, and dance. Lucy loves to dance. Gotta have some truth amidst the lies, at least. Lucy is a kinky bitch, into exactly the same fetishes as the caller, whomever he may be. Uncanny, they say, but there’s nothing supernatural about it. Our client’s numbers are logged on the system, meaning we’re able to make notes against the regulars’ files. All the while they are listening to our husky pre-recorded intro, we are scoping out their previous call notes to get our conversation just right. Time is money, and the longer they talk the more we get paid. A good chatline operator will keep them talking all night and keep them coming back for more.
I’m a really good chatline operator.
I hit my bonus every single week, so much so that I got my post-probationary model photos three months early. Lucy has a face. A very pretty face, it’s just not mine. I sometimes wonder who the blonde girl sitting on the side of a bathtub with her legs spread wide really is. Someone like Chelsea, most likely.
My first caller’s notes flashed up on screen just before the handset rang, but his notes said only ‘quick’. They were right. A couple of sweet nothings from me and a few grunts from him and he was gone, already well on his way by the time he’d trawled the menu. Next up was Kevin. Kevin likes to wear women’s panties. He likes you to tell him what a naughty little girl he is, then make him put his hand down his frilly knickers and play with his cock until he soils them. Kevin doesn’t take long, ten minutes tops, not even long enough for a call bonus, but he calls five nights out of seven without fail. A steady Eddie, is Kevin.
“Fuck, Kevin, that’s so horny. What colour panties are you wearing? Your pink ones? Me too, Kevin, let’s be dirty together... That’s right, Kevin, you dirty little girl, put those filthy fingers in those cute little knickers for me... work your sweet little pussy, Kevin, and tell me how naughty you are... shit, I’m coming, Kevin... you’ve made me so fucking wet for you... that’s my good girl...”
It’s rare that a caller really gets you off, especially with supervisors eavesdropping at semi-regular intervals. For me there were only a couple that could make the grade. One in particular.
I kept an eye on the time as the clock approached two. My Mr One-In-Particular, Jason, wouldn’t call tonight. I’d already told him I was taking the night off. He’d grumbled like stink, telling me how Saturday night was the one night he could really unwind. Like he didn’t let it all hang out every other night. Fuck, we both did.
Jason was my secret pleasure. My dirty, filthy, horny secret pleasure. The voice that got me hot, got me wet, got me fingering my clit for real every night of the week.
I ploughed my attention into another few short calls to distract myself, faking orgasm after orgasm like a professional until my messenger window flashed at two a.m.
RS335 Sheena: I’m going to call it a night if you’re good? Should start easing up now. Thanks for your help, I appreciate it.
I smiled to myself.
RS443 Gemma: Sure thing. Sweet dreams. Catch you tomorrow.
Sheena always logs out in the early hours. She has young kids and an early start. It means one thing: from two a.m. most mornings I’m without a supervisor. Nobody listening in, nobody doing quality control over my conversation topics, and nobody to make sure I adhere to the confidentiality guidelines.
I’d been encouraging Jason to call after two for the past few weeks. Stupid, and ridiculous, but I couldn’t help myself.
I doubt he’d call tonight, though. I’d told him I was out.
I watched Sheena’s status switch to offline and settled down for my next call. It came in at 2:02. My screen took a while to refresh, leaving me without prompters when I picked up the line, but it turns out I didn’t need them.
“Who’s a dirty little liar?”
My heart sped up. “I had a change of plan.” I shifted in my seat, letting my thighs fall open on instinct. “I was hoping you’d call...”
“Bet you say that to all your callers...” His voice was so familiar, the gravelly tone thick with need. His accent was hard to place, deep and clear, with maybe a hint of cockney.
“Maybe, but I don’t usually mean it...”
“Thought you’d be throat-deep on a nice fat cock somewhere. What happened?”
I contemplated lying, but he knew me too well. It’s as crazy as it sounds, that someone you’ve never met can know you like that. He didn’t know my real name, but it turns out real names don’t mean shit. We’d been talking for over two months, a few nights a week at first, then more. So much more. Sheena had warned me in the early days, telling me to keep my hopes realistic. A lot of these mega callers go quiet after a few weeks, she said, once their phone gets barred by their network or their wives find the phone bill. They rack up a bill they can’t pay, and it takes them a long, long while to come back for more.
But not Jason. Jason just kept on coming.
I knew everything and nothing when it came to the man. All his filthy fantasies, all the dirty things that made him hard. His quirky little ways, his dry humour, the low song of his laugh. I knew all this, but I knew absolutely nothing of the man himself. I didn’t even know where he was calling from.
“I had a lovely fat cock all ready to go... but my mission was scuppered.”
“Scuppered?”
“Interfering friends.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“I could make it up to you... just give me an address.”
“You’ll get me fired with talk like that...”
“It’d be worth it, I promise.”
I wished I didn’t believe him, but my stomach was fluttering, hand already slipping down between my thighs. “Fuck, Jason... I keep thinking of all the
things you could do to me...” Standard script, but this wasn’t standard. Nothing with Jason was standard.
“Tell me...”
“I dream of leaving my front door unlocked for you... how you’d come in without a sound, fuck me hard, take me like the dirty little whore I am... I’d give myself to you without ever knowing your face... that’s what I want... Fucked up, right? I was ready to fuck that guy tonight... and you know the funny thing? I was thinking about you... wanting to tell you about him... about how I’d fucked a stranger and wished he was you...”
His breathing quickened. “I could be your stranger.”
“…I think about being blindfolded, about you taking my hand and leading me away...”
“And then?”
I’d told him before, so many times. “You give me to a roomful of strangers... you watch as they fuck me... they fuck me so fucking hard, Jason... and you love it...”
“I’ll watch them pound your tight little snatch until you’re fucking spent, then I’ll fuck the gaping fucking hole they left... that what you want? It’s what I fucking want...”
“I want you to make me a dirty girl for you, Jason... can you hear how much I need this?” I lowered the handset and pulled my knickers to the side, letting him hear the soft, wet sound of my fingers on my clit.
His breath was ragged when I returned. “You need it rough, don’t you? Dirty girl...”
“Yes.”
“You need your cunt destroyed by two fat cocks at once, your tight little ass, too...”
My fingers sped up, teasing my swollen clit. “Would you want that? Would you share my pussy with another man?”
“In a heartbeat, I fucking swear.”
“Fuck, that’s what I want, Jason...”
“Four men... five... six... I’ll make you take them all, and you’ll beg for more, I know you will. Stretch your pussy for me, I want to hear you.”
I slipped two fingers in hard enough to draw breath. “Please, Jason, yes...”
“First time I want to fuck you myself, just you and me. You’ll be blindfolded ready, kneeling on the floor with your hands behind your head. You’ll give yourself to me, and I’ll take you so fucking hard you’ll be begging me to stop...”
“Fuck, yes...”
“You want your asshole pounded by a man you’ve never met?”
“Yes...”
“You can’t even imagine the things I’ll do to you, Lucy. I’ve done it all before... with dirty little sluts... I know what you need.” There was a tremor in his voice as he worked his cock, and it made me so fucking horny. “I’m not playing anymore, Lucy. I want you for real.”
“Jason... I can’t...”
“Fuck your tight little gash with those fingers and tell me you want me...”
I did fuck myself, bucking on the sofa with my fingers all the way inside. “I want you... God, I fucking want you... I’m a dirty whore, I know, I’m so dirty, Jason, so dirty... I want to be a dirty girl for you...”
“I’ll make you mine, dirty girl. I wanna hear you scream my name as you’re taking all that cock for me... dirty, sweaty, thick fucking meat, Lucy, all for you...”
“Yes! Oh yes!”
“You’ll open your mouth for me like a good girl, take my dick down your throat as I watch.”
“Yes, God, fucking yes!”
“Dirty little bitch, Lucy, you’re so fucking bad... I need to know you in real life....tell me what you really look like.”
Alarm bells in my stomach, Chelsea’s words raising their head.
I grasped at my failing script. “You already know what I look like... I’ve sent pictures...”
“I know it’s not you on the photos, Lucy, I’m not a total fucking idiot...” he growled. I struggled for words, my fingers still working my clit. “I bet you’re not even blonde...you don’t sound blonde. Blonde doesn’t suit your voice. No way, Lucy, that girl isn’t you.”
My eyes darted to the laptop screen. RS335 Sheena: Offline. “I’m not allowed... the rules...”
“Fucking hell, Lucy, I want to know who I’m talking to...”
My fingers were frantic, every breath matching his.
“…I want to know the dirty fucking bitch who gets me off every fucking night. The girl I spend a fucking fortune talking to.”
“I can’t...”
“LUCY!”
“Shit, Jason, shit! I have red hair, ok? I’m a redhead, with green eyes and freckles and a tight, wet cunt for you... The girl on the photo is nothing like me... I have big tits, Jason, big, big fucking tits, and I want you to fuck them, I want you to fuck me. Fuck, Jason, I’m gonna fucking come... shit...”
“Fuck...” he groaned.
“Come for me, Jason... please... I want to hear you... please let me hear you come for me...”
But I didn’t.
There was a thud, and a muffled voice that sounded like a woman shrieking.
And the line went dead.
***
Jason
The handset slipped from my hand as I shoved my dick back in my jeans. It clattered on the floor at my feet, skidding the battery off under the table. I cursed under my breath, darting to retrieve it.
Angry eyes stared out at me from the doorway, lips pouting and ready to let rip. “I said who are you talking to?!”
“Thought you were long in bed.”
“Clearly not,” she spat. “Who is she?”
I stared as April folded her perfect arms across her perfect tits, blowing a stray wisp of bleached blonde hair from her face. Even angry and dressed in old cotton PJs, she was pretty as a picture. Didn’t matter how perfect she was, though. The bitch did nothing for me anymore.
“Who’s who?”
“The fucking tramp on the fucking phone, Jason,” she scowled. “It’s that bitch from the VIP box, isn’t it? I knew it, little skank.”
“When did it become your fucking business?”
“Um, when we got fucking married.”
I laughed at her nerve. “You are joking? Like my love life means shit to you anymore.”
“Love life? More like seedy-fucking-pervert life.”
I gritted my teeth. “I leave you alone, keep my nose out, just like you want. Why the double fucking standards?”
“We’re still married, Jason. If you want to change that you can sign the fucking divorce papers, until then everything you do is my fucking business.”
I reassembled my handset. “I’ll sign the fucking papers just as soon as you give me something fucking reasonable to sign.”
“I’m asking for what’s mine.”
“Yeah, and everything else your greedy little mitts can get hold of. Get Fabien to buy me out if you’re that desperate to keep hold of the rest.”
“This has nothing to do with Fabien. It’s between us.”
“Makes a fucking change.”
She rolled her eyes. “Neither of us have been saints exactly, Jase.”
“I always wondered, did you still have the taste of his prick in your mouth when I gave you our wedding kiss?”
“Don’t play injured party. It would’ve made you hard, you filthy freak.” I watched the pretty line of her lips turn down. “Want a scandal, is that it? Want to make a fool of me? That little cow will sell you out in two seconds flat, don’t think she won’t. And then what?” She gestured aimlessly around the room. “And then this, this, this, everything we’ve worked for, all fucking gone.”
“So you keep telling me.”
“Don’t believe me?! Ask your agent. See what he has to say about another scandal. You can wave goodbye to your cosy little sportswear sponsorship, the fucking deodorant ads as well. You’ll be washed up, forced to sell your seedy fucking life story to the lads’ mags to put clothes on your back, is that what you want?”
I brushed past her. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. The future’s bright.”
“It’s true.” Then came the trembling lip. I hate it when she pulls that shit. “You dislike me that much
that you want to ruin everything for me? Drag my name through the mud?”
“Always so much melodrama...”
“You want to see the world laughing at us, is that it? Pitying us.”
The word pity stung. It stung hard. “Nobody is going to be pitying us, April.”
“She’ll blab, Jason. She’s that type.”
I smiled. “You seriously think I’m calling the girl from the game last week? She was in my eyeline for two minutes tops.”
Her eyes widened. “Then who? Please, God, not Celia Matherson... I have a charity fundraiser with her next month... or, wait... it’s not Kaylee Ryan, is it? Is it Kaylee?”
“It’s no one.”
She pursed her lips like she does at her tacky photo shoots. “Didn’t sound like no one. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the calls, Jase. I’ve fucking noticed.”
“Trust me, it’s no one that will cause any problems.”
She closed the gap between us, frosty blue eyes glaring. “Everyone is out to cause problems! They just want the right fucking price!”
“Not this time.”
“How can you be so sure?”
I tossed her the phone, admiring her expression of shock as she scrolled through the premium rate numbers. “Because she’s a fucking chatline operator.”
April’s eyes narrowed to slashes of venom. “Chatline?! You’re getting your kicks on fucking chat lines?!” She laughed. A cold, hard, nasty laugh. “Then you’re an even bigger fucking loser than I thought.”
I snatched my phone back and made my exit.
Stupid, nasty, gold-digging fucking bitch. Only this time maybe she was fucking right for once.
Chatline wouldn’t cut it, not forever. I wanted that girl for fucking real.
***
April rapped at my bedroom door. I checked out the alarm clock with bleary eyes. Nine a.m.
“What?” I groaned.
She flounced her way in, hair extensions bouncing around her tiny waist. “Peace offering.” She placed the mug on the bedside table and perched herself dangerously close to me.