Hotline Desires

My alarm buzzed at seven, but I didn’t roll out of bed until seven-thirty. That’s the beauty of working nights in a call center where the filthier your mouth, the more money you make—no one gives a damn if you show up half-late as long as your voice drips honey when the phone rings. I dragged my ass out of bed, stretched, then studied my reflection in the mirror. Short silk robe hanging open, lace panties peeking, hair wild in a way most women would tame before leaving the house. Me? I smirked. Good enough. I’m the kind of girl men pay to imagine, not the kind who tucks in her blouse and files reports. “God, Jade, you’re impossible.” Chloe’s voice carried through my earbuds the second I picked up her call. My best friend always had that rich-girl-morning-energy, like she’d already been to pilates and ordered a three-course breakfast by the time I was still fumbling for eyeliner. “Impossible, or irresistible?” I asked, snapping the cap off my lipstick and painting my mouth red. “Because let’s be honest, babe, those two get confused a lot.” She groaned dramatically. “Why don’t you just let me give you a monthly allowance? I’d pay to keep you from wasting your life in—what do you even call it again? That place where pervs with credit cards pretend you’re their girlfriend?” I laughed so hard my lipstick slipped a little. “It’s called job security, Chloe. Don’t knock the pervs; they pay my rent.” “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, though I could hear the smile in her voice. “Meanwhile, I have brunch with Marcus’s friends today. You should come. One of them just bought a new penthouse downtown. The least you could do is let me set you up with a rich man so you stop… talking dirty for a living.” “First of all,” I said, wagging the lipstick at my reflection, “I enjoy talking dirty. Second, I’ve got bills. You think ConEd accepts sugar daddies as payment?” Chloe sighed the way only a girl who’d never checked a bank balance in her life could sigh. “Fine, fine. But if you’re late tonight, don’t call me crying when Victor breathes down your neck.” “Oh, Victor can breathe anywhere he wants as long as the bonus checks clear,” I shot back, laughing. By the time I strutted into the office, my heels clicking against cheap tile, I was already in character—hips swaying, red lips, blouse cut low enough to distract. And, of course, my little dysfunctional family of coworkers was already raising hell. “Look who finally decided to grace us with her sinful presence,” Maya called from her cubicle, headset hanging around her neck. She popped her gum like she was starring in her own music video. “Please,” Lola chimed in smoothly, twirling a strand of glossy hair around her manicured finger. “Jade knows the customers get off on that voice of hers. She could show up in pajamas and still break the call record.” “Speak for yourselves,” Trixie piped up, rolling her chair over with a wicked grin. “I’ve got a guy on hold right now who wants me to describe how I’d spank him with a hairbrush. Don’t think pajamas would cut it.” Serena, calm as ever, just lifted her eyes from her notepad and smiled knowingly at me. She didn’t say much, but when she did, it always landed like gospel. I tossed my bag down and dropped into my chair, smirking at all of them. “Please, you’re just mad I’ve got a better fake orgasm voice than the lot of you.” Maya gasped in mock offense. “Girl, don’t make me put you on speaker next time I’ve got Mr. Lonely Hearts on the line. He’ll never call you again once he hears how I moan.” The whole row erupted in laughter, and for a moment it felt like home—the kind of home only misfits like us could love. A chorus of dirty mouths and quick comebacks, dressed in skirts too tight and lipstick too loud. I slid on my headset, the weight of it oddly comforting, and logged in. The phone rang almost immediately, flashing a new number across my screen. Showtime. I licked my lips, glanced once at my reflection in the dark monitor, and purred into the mic. “Hello, lover. You sound like you need me already.” The headset buzzed, and a man’s shaky voice spilled through the line. “Is this—uh—Candy?” I rolled my eyes. They always thought we all had stripper names. “Not Candy, sweetheart,” I purred, settling back in my chair. “But I can be whoever you need. Tell me—what’s running through that dirty little mind of yours?” Silence. Just the sound of his breathing. I softened my tone, coaxing. “Come on, baby. You called me for a reason. You want me to climb into your lap? Wrap my arms around your neck? Mmm, I bet you’re already hard, aren’t you?” The sharp inhale told me I’d hit the right nerve. “Yes,” he whispered, as if someone might overhear him in his own house. “I… I want you to say you’re bouncing on me.” My lips curved. Classic. “Ohhh, I’m riding you so good right now,” I murmured, rocking gently in my chair just to let my voice sway with the motion. “My skirt’s bunched at my waist, your hands gripping my ass, and every time I slam down you can feel how wet I am for you.” His breath came faster. I let my voice dip into a moan, playful and exaggerated, but believable enough. “You’re filling me up, stretching me so deep, baby. Mmm, I don’t want to stop—” He groaned like he was choking. Then came the telltale rustle, his breathing gone ragged. Two more gasps, and then—silence. I waited a beat, then clicked the mute button. Easy money. Across from me, Maya caught my smirk and mouthed, Already? I winked back. Before I could take a sip of my water, the phone lit up again. This time, a woman. Her voice was soft, hesitant, like she wasn’t sure she’d dialed the right number. “H-hi… um, can I… talk to another woman? Is that allowed?” Well, well. I straightened, letting my voice drop into something smoother, more intimate. “Of course, baby. You’ve got me now. Tell me—what are you craving from me tonight?” Her breath hitched audibly. “I… I just want you to… talk to me like you’d touch me. Like you’re right here.” Heat licked through me—not arousal, but the delicious thrill of slipping into a new role. “Mmm, then let me start slow. I’d brush my lips against your ear, whisper how gorgeous you look right now. My hands would slide down your body, tugging at your shirt until you let me peel it away.” A shaky sigh from her side of the line. “Y-yeah…” “You’re lying back for me, aren’t you? Eyes closed, legs parted, waiting for me to taste you.” I let the words drip, low and deliberate, savoring how she clung to every syllable. She made a small, broken sound. The kind that told me she was clutching the phone with one hand and clenching sheets with the other. I didn’t need to see her—I could picture it. The beauty of this job was how easily voices painted pictures if you knew how to listen. “Mmm, I’d lick you until you begged me to stop,” I whispered, drawing out the vowels. “And even then, I wouldn’t. I’d have you crying my name, trembling for me, dripping until you couldn’t take it anymore.” Her breathing faltered. A sharp gasp, then silence. And just like that, the line went dead. I leaned back in my chair, exhaling through a grin. Lola raised a brow at me from across the room. “Woman again?” she mouthed. I blew her a kiss.