A Lover's Call

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

A Lover’s Call

ISBN # 9781419907869

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

A Lover’s Call Copyright© 2007 Claire Thompson

Edited by Mary Moran.

Cover art by Syneca.

Electronic book Publication: February 2007

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc
.®
1056 Home Avenue
,
Akron
OH
44310-3502
.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Content Advisory:

S – ENSUOUS

E – ROTIC

X – TREME

Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic.

S-
ensuous
love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

E-
rotic
love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. E-rated titles might contain material that some readers find objectionable—in other words, almost anything goes, sexually. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry in terms of both sexual language and descriptiveness in these works of literature.

X-
treme
titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Stories designated with the letter X tend to contain difficult or controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

A
L
OVER
’
S
C
ALL

Claire Thompson

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

MasterCard: MasterCard International Incorporated

Wonderbra: Canadelle Limited Partnership

Chapter One

The phone rang. There was a three-second pause as the service connected the call through for her. “Hello. This is Velvet. I’m here for your pleasure. What can I do for you tonight?”

The service would have already cleared the guy, taken his credit card information and started the clock. They forwarded the call to Rachel or one of the other “phone sex goddesses” who worked from their homes. A man on the other end of the line cleared his throat nervously and said, “Uh, hi, Velvet. I’m Jim.”

“Jim,” she purred. “What a strong name. And your voice! You sound so sexy! I’m hot just from your voice, Jim.”

“Uh, what are you wearing?” Rachel looked down at herself as she leaned back in her chair, a large red leather recliner she’d purchased for an absurd sum—her one extravagance.

Rachel lived a sensual exciting life. Her charismatic allure reduced men to putty in her hands. A smoldering glance toward the man of her choice was enough to cause him to drop to his knees, begging to make love to her, to bask in her sensuality, to occupy even a tiny piece of her heart…at least in her daydreams.

In real life, Rachel was a sensible girl whose modesty was genuine and bordered on the insecure. She had chosen the career of librarian precisely to avoid situations in which smoldering glances might get her in trouble. Her modest apartment reflected her sober, plain approach to the world with its practical if rather ugly dining room table and chairs, secondhand sofa and cheaply framed posters. Her bedroom contained an old bureau and a full-size bed with a lumpy but serviceable mattress and bookshelves from floor to ceiling against every bit of wall available. The shelves were filled to the brim with books, each and every one much-thumbed, their spines cracked, the corner of the pages creased where she’d dog-eared them.

Rachel didn’t notice or care that her surroundings were humble and unadorned. As long as she had her books, she could slide away into a secret world, casting herself as heroine in the historical romance adventure stories she especially favored. After a dull day gliding silently through the archives and stacks of the university library where she worked, Rachel would drop into her lovely red leather recliner, letting it enfold her in buoyant comfort as she quickly lost herself among princes and rascals, castles and caves.

“Oh I’m so glad you asked, Jim, because I just bought this sexy new outfit and you’re the first person I’m modeling it for!” Rachel looked down at her gray T-shirt rumpling over tattered tennis shorts. “I love the way this makes my big tits look, Jim. It’s a black negligee, but it’s a teeny, tiny bit tight, you know? My nipples are hard now because you’re on the phone. Oh and Jim,” she lowered her voice even more
seductively,
“I forgot my panties. I’m
such
a naughty girl! Someone should really spank my bare, naked ass. Would you do that for me, Jim?”

“Oh yeah, baby,” Jim answered, slightly breathless. She paused, waiting to see which personality type Jim would turn out to be. Finally he said, “No panties?” Clearly he wanted her to do the talking. Sometimes they liked to talk—to describe in detail what they wanted to do to her, but most times they wanted to hear her voice. They needed someone alive on the other end of the phone, stroking their flimsy egos and saying sexy things while they pumped their cocks, hoping for a brief moment of pleasure—a few minutes where they didn’t feel quite so alone.

She was happy to oblige. She didn’t think the men were disgusting, not really. It was more that she felt sorry for them. She knew what it was to be lonely. Rachel wasn’t an ugly woman—in fact she had a sweet face and a nice figure. Yet somehow life seemed to have passed her by.

The library science degree she obtained from a small college enabled her to get a decent job at a large university. She liked her job. It was peaceful and undemanding. She loved handling the books, especially the rare old tomes with their fine, thin paper, sometimes gilded with gold edges.

Work only went so far in satisfying a young, lonely woman of twenty-six. One quiet night while perusing a catalog of historical romance novels, trying to decide between
Yvette in Love
or
The Secret Diaries of a French Courtesan
,
she came across an ad looking for women with “sexy voices”. The ad claimed there was much money to be made for a stay-at-home job that only required a telephone. Feeling daring, she decided to give them a call.

Rachel wasn’t sure her voice qualified as “sexy” but several people over the years had told her she sounded like Lauren Bacall in the old Humphrey Bogart movies. She had rented some of those old films and quite liked being compared to the beautiful movie star, though she believed the voice was as far as it went.

Her caller was making grunting sounds on the other end of the phone and Rachel kicked into automatic, telling him how hot he sounded and how big she knew his cock was. “Oh baby, yeah,” she murmured, adding her own cries of feigned pleasure to his grunts.

She moved through the series of calls, her mind barely on her work until
midnight
finally struck. Stretching, she sighed into the empty room. She would have her cup of herbal tea, read a few chapters of her novel and drift off to sleep.
Just another in a series of solitary nights.

Until the night he called.

“Hi, Velvet, how are you this evening?” Something about his voice caught her attention. It was resonant, sexy, but not strident. There was a timbre to it, a quality that she couldn’t quite define but which definitely made her sit up and listen.

“I’m fine, thanks. And I’m here for your pleasure. What can I do for you tonight?” It was a nice bonus that she liked the guy’s voice but this was still business and she would get down to it.

“What can you do for me? You can talk to me, Velvet. I just want to hear you talk. I like your voice. It’s like melting butterscotch. It’s like hot, wet sex.”

“Oh.” Rachel was taken aback but secretly pleased. It was rare that the men who used this service said anything more personal than, “Yeah, baby. That’s it, tell me more.”

She began her usual storyline. “I’m wearing this cute negligee.
Black and see-through.
My nipples are so hard for you. I’m wet for you.”

He let her go on for a while without responding. Rachel was used to hearing
something
on the other end—usually the sound of the man’s breathing becoming heavier and faster as he pumped himself to orgasm, using her voice and her words to take him there. Eventually she became
flustered,
suddenly not even sure he was still on the line. “Um,” she paused and asked, “excuse me, are you still there?”

Soft laughter, though not unkind.
“I’m here.
Just listening to your lovely voice.
Not the silly words. Forgive me but that kind of prattle just doesn’t ‘do it’ for me. No offense—I’m sure you’re very good at what you do.”

Rachel felt affronted. If he wasn’t into this sort of thing, why had he called a phone sex line? What was this guy’s problem? She began to retort, to defend her “craft”, but he gently interrupted.

“Please, forgive me. I meant no offense. I just called the service on a lark, never expecting to hear that gorgeous voice at the other end. You entranced me. You caught me off guard.”

But it was she who was caught off guard. This had never happened, not in all the months she’d been teasing men on the phone for pay. This man seemed to want something from her.
Something other than a verbal blowjob.

“Uh, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice registering her confusion. “I really don’t know what it is you want.”

“I guess I’d like to talk to you.
To talk
with
you.
I’d really like to know your name.
Your real name.
Not that silly assigned name from Sex Goddesses. I want more 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 stopped her. “I’m going to call you on Monday. That’s your next shift, isn’t it?” How did he know so much about her? “Here’s what I want,
Velvet
. I want your real name but I’m willing to wait until you’re ready to share that. I understand your reluctance.
Your need to keep me at a distance.
So here’s what I ask. I want you to be ready to share, honestly, your own secret fantasies. Not the ones you think I want to hear. Not the usual, ‘Oh baby, your cock is so big, fuck me, fuck me!’ I don’t need that from you.”

Rachel clutched the phone as Richard continued. “I’ll call you Monday and I’ll give you the whole two hours, on special request, no downtime. But I want you to be honest.
To be real.
That’s what turns me on.
Honesty.
I want to get behind that beautiful voice of yours.
For now, good night.”

* * * * *

She thought about him all weekend. Two whole hours of special request time! That was going to cost him a bundle! What did he want from her? Rachel would put him out of her mind for hours at a time, but he would sneak back in uninvited, his low, persuasive voice melting like butter over her imagination.

Monday night finally arrived. Rachel felt as if she were going on a date, for heaven’s sake! She felt a little ridiculous. It wasn’t as if he could see her! Yet for some reason tonight she had decided to leave her hair down instead of pulling it back in a no-nonsense ponytail as she usually did after her shower. She was wearing a short cotton nightie. Not exactly a negligee—she didn’t own anything like that—but it wasn’t a sweatshirt either. She stared at the phone, willing it to ring. She was beginning to feel more than a little foolish.