A Lover's Call Read online

  Rachel didn’t want him to hang up but she honestly didn’t know what to say. Richard continued. “Did you know some Native American tribes believed if someone told you their real name, you belonged to them? They wouldn’t share their real names with anyone but their closest family.” Rachel shifted, not sure if this knowledge made her comfortable or nervous.

  As if sensing her mood, Richard added with a chuckle, “Relax, Rachel. I won’t steal your soul. I just want to talk. Why don’t you tell me about yourself? How did you get into this line of work?”

  Rachel paused and then decided what the hell, if he just wanted to talk, no sex play, why shouldn’t she oblige? This was an easy buck, no question about it. Settling back in her chair she answered, “Well, I saw an ad. It seemed like a good way to make a few extra dollars. There’s no risk and it’s legal. I can do it from home.”

  “What do you do during the day?”

  “I’m a librarian.” The truth slipped out before she thought of a lie. But why lie? She would never meet this guy. He would never come to her library and stalk her.

  “Wow,” Richard enthused. “That’s great! A librarian. I can see you as that. Shy and modest by day, hair pulled back, face prim behind glasses. But at night,” he paused, as if visualizing it. “At night, you transform into the phone sex goddess, hair wild, bare breasts spilling from black lace, lips stained red with lipstick, eyes bright with lust.” He laughed softly.

  Rachel gasped slightly. His words were so evocative! She wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of someone else’s sexy words. And he had described her day persona to a T, she thought with some chagrin.

  He went on. “I guess you aren’t used to hearing much more than grunts and groans from the guy on the other end, huh?”

  “Well,” she began.

  “They’re interested in Velvet. Not even really in Velvet but in what Velvet can do for them. They want Velvet to help them jerk off so they can go to sleep or whatever they do after they hang up with you.

  “You’re not used to someone who actually wants to know about you, Rachel. About what moves you—what excites you. What you’re willing to do for a strange man who thinks your voice is so fuckable.”

  Rachel found herself suddenly short of breath. Who was this guy? Yet she couldn’t deny what he was saying was curiously exciting. She liked being told her voice was fuckable, though she would have blushed ten shades of red if someone had actually said that to her face. She would have turned away, her expression pinched and prim. She was, she suddenly felt, twenty-six going on sixty-five. She acted like an old spinster at work and not much different at home alone tucked into her red recliner, wrapped in flannel, her head buried in her novels.

  In her defense, it was easy to do. She worked mostly with older women and their work was by its nature quiet and introspective. Shelving books, helping the occasional patron find a reference book, checking the books back in that had been returned, cataloging the new books and finding space for them. It was peaceful work, but face it, she told herself, it was old lady’s work. And while her fantasy life was rich, her real life was as dry and dull as old parchment, with little of her own experience to fill the page.

  Richard shook her out of her reverie. “I want to know about you, Rachel. I promised you the whole two hours. But only if you agree to be honest. And open. Will you share with me, Rachel?”

  Rachel bit her lip. Part of her was tempted to hang up on him again. Why should he want to get to know a woman who worked for a phone sex service? Couldn’t the guy get a date? Did he weigh four hundred pounds and look like Frankenstein’s monster?

  But another part of her, the lonely part, didn’t want to hang up. Whoever this was, for whatever reason, he wanted to connect with her! With her, Rachel, the real person. And maybe precisely because she was a stranger on the phone, she felt free enough to open up to this man. “Well, I guess it’s okay,” she said aloud. “What do you want to know?”

  He asked her simple things that first night. What she liked to eat, what movies she enjoyed, what books she read. He asked her if she had a pet, if she liked her work, what she did for fun. He listened attentively to all her replies, asking further questions that made it clear he was paying attention and for some reason interested. Instead of denigrating her love of romance novels, he seemed to delight in her amusing, evocative plot descriptions. He even asked her to recommend a few of her favorite tales so he could read them too.

  Eventually she found herself telling him about her lonely childhood, her mother’s death when Rachel was only nine, her reserved and withdrawn father, her own feelings of isolation and loneliness in school. He was so easy to talk to—she realized later she’d said more to him in two hours than she had in a week. He offered stories of his own, snippets about his life that made her want to know more.

  When they hung up it was actually a few minutes after midnight! Rachel found she didn’t mind having gone over the allotted time. It had been fun! Instead of the usual drudge of listening to men grunt and breathe while she talked them to orgasm, she had just spent a very pleasant two hours telling someone who really seemed to care all about herself!

  Rachel lay in bed that night, her hand in her panties, thinking about the man who called himself Richard. She had no idea what he looked like or how old he was, but because of the careful and friendly attention he’d paid to her all night, she felt a strange connection to him. Letting her eyes close, she imagined someone tall and handsome leaning down to kiss her as she stroked her pussy, feeling the sweet heat of pleasure her fingers brought her. “Richard,” she whispered, her fingers now swirling rapidly over her spread pussy. She felt the impending tremble of orgasm, the little shudder as she arched toward her hand, her hips thrusting forward. “Richard,” she sighed as she drifted off to a contented sleep.

  Chapter Two

  Rachel couldn’t seem to sit still. Jean Marie, who worked alongside her behind the desk during the mornings, remarked disapprovingly, “Young lady, you’re acting like you have ants in your pants! What has gotten into you lately?”

  Rachel flushed. “I guess maybe I’m a little restless because it’s spring outside and we’re cooped up in here.” That was true enough. The sun was sparkling through the thick plate glass windows of the old building and the sky looked as blue as robin eggs. It was April in Houston. A brief window of spring had opened before the onset of endless muggy summer heat.

  “Well, it isn’t like you. I’ve always admired how still you are for a young woman. Not so flighty and full of yourself like most girls today. And what in the world have you gone and done to your face?”

  Rachel didn’t reply as she self-consciously touched her rouged cheek. During their talks, after Rachel had confided that she did in fact wear her hair back at work and didn’t bother with her face, Richard had suggested she might try some makeup as an experiment.

  “Just a little blusher, a little lipstick. And maybe even wear your hair down sometimes. Just for fun—to be different.”

  She’d thought about it and decided he was right! Why shouldn’t she make herself look prettier? Even if no one noticed, it might be fun, as he said. And, she told herself, she would do it for him. That thought gave her a warm feeling.

  Then the practical Rachel returned. Silly girl, she’d chided herself. Richard was just a voice, a long-distance voice who paid for her services. She was Rachel, the boring, frumpy librarian no guy would look twice at unless he needed directions through the stacks. Why had she bothered with that makeup? Her glasses would hide it anyway. Who was she fooling?

  She busied herself sorting books on her cart as she thought about what Jean Marie had said. Not only the fact that she was fidgety today, which she was, but how she was “still” compared to other young women. Maybe that’s what was wrong with her! She sat still and quiet while the world passed her by!

  After a moment she smiled to herself, she had a secret! She had a man at home! Well, okay, so he wasn’t at home, but he was on the phone for two hours Monday and another two on Wednesday. He’d shared a number of things about his own life. He was thirty-two and worked in investment banking in Los Angeles. He lived alone, except for his dog Molly. He had lived with a woman for six years but they’d drifted apart. He wasn’t dating anyone at present. She gained the impression he was a loner, like she was. This made her warm toward him and trust him more. She felt at ease with him but also excited by him.

  And he was calling again tonight! She wished she didn’t have to wait for his calls. That they weren’t limited to her work schedule. It suddenly occurred to her and she wondered why it hadn’t sooner, that she could give him her real number. Her home number instead of having him call through the service. It would save him a bundle! Then they could talk more often. And he wouldn’t be buying her time—buying her, so to speak.

  Suddenly she stopped, her arms full of books, hidden in the tall stacks of the nonfiction section. What if he didn’t want to call her home number? What if it was part of whatever weird game he played, that he liked to pay to hear some poor girl talk about her dreary life?

  No. Not her Richard. Her Richard. Silly girl! She’d only spent a few hours on the phone with the man and here she was thinking of him as “her Richard”. She laughed and then realized she’d laughed aloud. A man standing down the row looked up at her and she blushed, turning away.

  * * * * *

  Friday, ten o’clock came at last. Rachel was ready, her chestnut hair shiny, falling in freshly washed waves around her face. She was in a pretty new nightie she had bought earlier that week, not admitting to herself it was for Richard. She wore fresh makeup, just a little, because it made her feel sexy. She knew it was stupid since they each sat in their homes, separated by thousands of miles. But she felt special this way. She would admit it—she felt sexy.

  It was only one minute past ten when the phone rang and Rachel grabbed it, her heart thrilling as she said, “Hello? Richard?”

  “What? Um, isn’t this, um, Sex Goddesses?” A different man altogether, his voice high-pitched with confusion, was on the line. With a sinking feeling Rachel realized a regular caller had gotten through instead of Richard! In a move that might get her fired, Rachel gently cradled the phone, cutting the poor fellow off mid-stammer.

  The phone rang again three minutes later and this time Rachel said only, “Hello? May I help you?” Her voice was careful, neutral.

  “Rachel.” His sweet, sexy voice was in her ear and Rachel actually sighed with relief.

  “Richard!” she exclaimed. “You’re late!”

  Richard laughed. “So I am! But it’s your fault, young lady! Your line was busy. The service asked me if I would like another sex goddess as Velvet was engaged but I told them I’d wait.”

  As they talked, the banter was easy and relaxed. This time Richard moved into more personal territory, asking Rachel about her first sexual experiences and what her sex life was like now. Instead of taking offense and only feeling a little embarrassed, Rachel confided about her limited experience. She felt safe with Richard. He didn’t seem to judge or think she was a prude or hopelessly old-fashioned.

  She admitted she hadn’t dated much and that sex to this point had been less than exciting for her. Richard confided in Rachel as well, talking some about his last serious relationship, admitting he had yet to find “the one”. The girl who would make his heart pound when he thought about her. The girl who would be willing to submit to his dreams and desires. If this was an odd way of phrasing things, Rachel didn’t pick up on it. She hung on his every word, fascinated and not a little love-struck.

  Richard held forth at some length about his ideal woman. She would be open and honest, like Rachel was. She wouldn’t have to be sexually experienced but she would have to be willing to trust her lover. She would be adventurous—willing to try new things, even if they seemed strange or risqué. She would accept that her lover would be the one in control. He would call the shots sexually speaking and she would submit to his requests.

  But that wouldn’t be a one-way street, he assured her. If he found a woman like this, he would cherish her. He would love her so completely she would always feel safe and adored. This woman, if he could ever find her, would come to revel in her sensuality. She would know her ability to drive any man wild with her charms. But she would choose to give herself only to him.

  Rachel felt strange as Richard shared this intimate portrait of his ideal woman. She felt hot and wished suddenly she had a cool drink instead of the tepid herbal tea by her side. Her nipples ached and she realized they were erect, poking out when she looked down. She touched them briefly through her nightie, lightly pinching them. Her heart felt constricted and she had trouble filling her lungs.

  She realized with a tiny secret jolt that she wanted to be that woman. His ideal lover. And yet she only dimly understood what he was saying. The words and concepts were new but a part of her, some secret as yet unexplored part of her, latched on to his words with a silent yes! That part of her was eager, thirsty, for whatever he was offering.

  The two hours ended too quickly and as Richard began to talk about when he could call her again, Rachel interrupted. “Listen, Richard. About that. I was wondering.” She paused, suddenly unsure of herself. She plunged on. “I was thinking. There’s no reason we have to talk like this. I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to call me directly. You know, not through the service.”

  She waited. After a moment, Richard said, “I’d love to call you directly. But, Rachel, if I do that, the rules change.”

  “The rules?” Rachel felt a weird grip in her belly.

  “Yes. It means this is becoming about us, Rachel. It means that I mean more to you than just a nice way to pick up extra cash. Is that what it means, Rachel?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, feeling a blush, glad he couldn’t see her. “Oh yes!”

  “That makes me happy, Rachel. But you should know, if we do this, I’m going to want more from you.”

  “More?” Rachel echoed in a whisper.

  “Yes. I’ll want to move to the next level with you. Are you willing to do that? Ready to do that?”

  Rachel didn’t know what the next level was. At least, she would have said she didn’t, if he’d asked her. But in her gut, she did know. It had always been there, behind the gentle probing, behind the easy laughter.

  “Yes. I’m willing. I want to.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper and she found she was clenching the receiver, her knuckles white.

  “You answered quickly, Rachel. Too quickly perhaps. Before you give me your home number, I want you to be sure. I want you to understand the rules.”

  Rachel felt rebuked and then embarrassed. She had been quick to agree to whatever new game he was playing without any real idea of what it meant. She was pretty sure it had to do with sex—after all, they were on a 900 sex line at this very moment. The sexual tension between the two of them was undeniable. She had shared intimate details about her sex life or lack thereof with this man. Now she waited—tensed, confused.

  “Rachel. I want to teach you. About yourself. Sexually.”

  Rachel didn’t respond, unless a sharp intake of breath could be considered a response. Richard continued, his voice soft and low. “We’ve talked some about our pasts, about our sexual experiences and I know yours have been rather, uh, limited.”

  The fact was, she wasn’t a virgin and had had sexual relations—as she had primly said—with two different boyfriends. The sex had been okay but the earth certainly hadn’t moved. In fact, if she were honest, the second relationship had been something of a disaster. She didn’t confide this to Richard—indeed had never told anyone about it, but she’d been humiliated by the man, who ultimately broke up with her.

  She hadn’t loved him and he hadn’t broken her heart, though perhaps he’d scratched it a bit. Even now, a year and a half later, she still carried a secret shame, a wound that had never healed from his cold treatment of her. Among the many minor humiliations he had visited upon her, he had told her she stank and always insisted they shower just before sex. He later told her all women stank—there was nothing to be done about it. It was their lot and men’s lot to endure it.

  That was scant consolation to a woman who was already deeply insecure about her own body and her sexuality. Though she knew he was cruel and his comments had no basis in fact, a part of her believed his condemnation and caused her to shut down just a little more.

  Though she’d rarely dated since then, Rachel remained sexual, quietly yearning for the touch of a lover in the night. But she had found more pleasure at her own hand than with men. Certainly it was safer than risking another scratch to her heart.

  Richard of course had no idea of what was passing through Rachel’s mind as he said, “I have this sense about you, Rachel. I mentioned once an appealing quality of yours—your vulnerability. I love your willingness to honestly explore your feelings. I’m going to be blunt now and I hope I don’t offend you. I’m going to tell you straight out what I want from you, Rachel.

  “This isn’t a make or break deal or anything like that. We’ll still talk as friends if this isn’t for you. But I have a feeling, if you’ll trust me, that I can help you learn amazing things about yourself. You’ll learn what it is to submit to your lover—to give yourself completely.”

  Richard paused but Rachel merely sat, listening. Her heart was pitter-pattering. She didn’t feel capable of speech at that precise moment but she was all ears. He continued. “I want to teach you about yourself. About your body, about your desires. I want to learn with you about what you’re capable of as a sexual and sensual being. I want to take you on a journey of sexual exploration—just you and me. What that means is I’m going to take you through a series of sexual exercises. As you advance with me, my demands will become greater and your experiences more intense. Through it all, you can always say no at any point. And I will be there for you, every step of the way, guiding you.”