Call

She wasn’t surprised by the call so much; it was the tenor of his voice.

“Hello there.” Same greeting, but there was a breathlessness behind it; the words caught in his throat, came out in a rush of forced air. It gave her a chill, then turned her stomach liquid. She was alone, but still found herself walking into the bedroom and closing the door. She sat on the small window seat, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs tightly. She wasn't sure where he was going with this.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she began cautiously, her heart racing. “How are you?” Casual, she thought. She swallowed hard.

“I miss you, babe. I need you. Here. Now.” He paused, and she readied a response. But it wasn’t necessary. “I want to be there, holding you. Touching you. Making love to you.” His intentions were clear. She swallowed again. “Where are you, babe?”

She told him her location, told him she was alone.

“I want to kiss you. Touch you. Be inside of you.” Her breathing was starting to be erratic, and she could feel the muscles in her groin clench and release, involuntarily. She didn’t speak.

“Take off your jeans.” The command was a low snarl almost. Although he couldn’t see, she did as he instructed. “Take off your sweater.” The room was warm when she pulled it over her head, but his voice made her flesh tingle and the goosebumps rise. She slid to the floor, leaned back against the window seat, and stretched out her legs. “Tell me what you’re wearing now.”

She described the lacy panties and the matching bra. He stopped her mid-description in a hoarse, rushed whisper and said “Touch yourself. Reach into your panties and touch yourself.”

Her fingers moved on their own accord. “Are you touching yourself?” She whispered a “yes.”

“Are you wet? Tell me how wet you are.” She didn’t have words for this. She whispered, “Silky.”

“I like silky. I want to taste silky. Slide a finger inside of yourself.” She didn’t tell him she already had. His voice was an aphrodisiac; his urgency and desperation magnified it beyond her comprehension. She was already trembling, close to that edge. “Now touch your breast. Squeeze it for me.”

His words came frantic now, describing their love-making in detail while her mind ran the images. She began to rub herself frantically, alternating her fingers inside of herself, trying to reach some core she couldn’t touch. “I’m so close, sweetheart . . .” she managed to choke out.

“What do you want me to do? Hmmm? Say it . . . Say what you want me to do . . . Tell me what I can do to make you come.” This was part of the routine, be she’d never said it on the phone. But there was his voice in her ear . . . And the words tumbled out. “I want . . . I want . . . Fuck me. I want you to fuck me . . . . I want you to bury yourself deep inside of me and fuck me until I come.” She could feel the blood rush as she said the words, and his whispered response told her he was close too.

“I am babe. I’m fucking you. Pounding you. Fucking you so hard your ass is shaking . . . Can you feel me? Can you feel how hard I am?”

Her response was lost in the explosion. Only her fingers were coherent now; the sounds that came out of her throat were animal and primal. He was still whispering, but she could hear the strain. She managed to choke out “Come with me, baby . . . Now.” His groan over the phone was telling, and he repeated “I am coming” over and over. She could picture his face, tense with the effort, then slack with the release. And in a final moan, the words rushed out, echoing in her ears . . . “I love you.”

She sat shaking, alone, in her room, her panties pushed aside, her fingers still damp. Her heart said it too, but her mouth said “I know.”