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“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-probationarymodelphotos 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 wasKevin. 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.
