My name's Clare. I'm 24 and single, I work in the finance department of a legal firm, and my best friend and colleague Lucy has just asked why she caught me getting myself off in the Ladies' toilets at the office during the week.
Lucy was round at my place for a girls' night in: pizza, movie and wine, just the two of us. The remnants of the pizza lay in Domino boxes on the coffee table, we'd cheered as Elle had her triumphant court scene in
Legally Blonde
, and we'd opened yet another bottle of wine. At the time when she'd caught me in the office toilets, Lucy had been rushing out, and was unable to grill me then and there, so she'd made me promise to explain it today. So far, she hadn't raised it, though, and I was beginning to hope that she'd forgotten, or that she'd decided to let the matter drop.
Nope. Apparently she was just waiting until we were both drunk enough before she pounced.
"Right then," she said, settling herself into the cushions at the other end of the sofa, "tell me!"
I did my best to look baffled. "Tell you what?"
She gave me a hard look. "You know!"
I shook my head, mentally crossing my fingers.
She narrowed her eyes, mock-sternly. "You, madam, promised to explain why you were giving yourself a Happy in the ladies earlier in the week. Have you got a new boyfriend I don't know about? Or have thoughts of Tariq in his cycling shorts finally gotten the better of you?"
Tariq was our team leader at work. As a fitness fanatic, he was a sight to behold when he and his equally gorgeous girlfriend Divya arrived in the office first thing. Lucy and I have often discussed how he features occasionally in our daydreaming. In fact, I had been fantasising about him bending me over one of the desks in the office and fucking me during the incident in question, while unaware that Lucy had been listening. Not that I was about to admit that, of course.
"No, and no. You think I'd keep something like a new boyfriend quiet?" I'm
really
bad at small talk; what few dates I have always involve lots of awkward silences, and there's never a second date. There's a reason why I'm single. Perhaps this would surprise you. I'm young, thin, with brown hair in a bob, and I happen to think I wasn't looking all that bad that evening, in my white t-shirt and short, pleated, grey skirt, thanks. I'm not as sensuous as Lucy, with her classic Irish colouring β red hair, green eyes, and curvy with it β but I'm okay. It's just the talking thing where I have problems.
"Uh-huh," said Lucy. "So you've taken to calling phone sex lines, then?"
"It's not like that," I said. "Well, not quite."
Lucy waved her glass encouragingly. The wine sloshed dangerously. "Out with it!"
Just do it quickly, I thought to myself. Like ripping off the band-aid. "There's this couple," I said. "They phone me up while they're having sex so that I can listen. They like to hear me have an orgasm while they do it."
Lucy was stunned. "You're kidding!"
"Nope."
"Omigod, girl! I did
not
have you down for phone-sex kinkiness. How did you ever get into that?"
"I didn't exactly 'get into it'," I said, trying to explain. "I'm not calling a phone line. They're calling me. It just happened."
Lucy arched one eyebrow. "Just happened, huh?"
"Look," I said. "It started about six months or so ago. I was sitting right here, on this sofa, all by myself as usual on a Friday evening, and my phone rang. It was an unknown number, and when I answered it, this woman said 'he's fucking me again'."
"She said what?" Lucy exclaimed.
"'He's fucking me again'. That's how her calls always start. And he was! I mean, I could hear them having sex."
"And you didn't hang up?"
"Well, no." I thought about it. "If it had been some creepy man, or a heavy breather, or something, I would have done. But it was a woman, and she seemed to be having a good time. It was... sexy. She was explaining what he was doing to her, and it was turning me on, hearing it. Before I knew it, I had a hand down my pants. When they heard me coming, that spurred them on even more."
"Jesus...." Lucy said, eyes wide.
"They're into kinky stuff. Bondage. She's always tied up or tied down or gagged or cuffed. I guess this is all part of their dom/sub game."
"So who are they? Why are they calling you?"
"No idea," I said, "and not a clue. I call them Mia and Guy, just to give them names, but they've never actually said who they are, or why they picked me. I've never even heard Guy speak."
"Mia and Guy?"
"Because she always says 'he's fucking
me a
-gain'," I said, emphasising the syllables. "And she always refers to him as 'my guy'." I shrugged. "Since that night, they've been calling me at random. Mostly, it's in the evenings at the weekend, and that's okay, because I'm here," I said. "But sometimes, it's more awkward. I'm out shopping, I'm at the cinema. I'm on the bus..."
"So that's what was happening, this week?" Lucy asked.
I nodded. "This was the first time they've called while I've been at work."
"Why didn't you just tell them you were busy?"
My mouth dropped open. After a moment, I said, "Honestly, it didn't even occur to me. But now I think about it," I added, "I don't want to. I'm scared that, if I tell them
no
, then they won't call back. I mean," I said, "you know me. This is the closest thing I've had to a boyfriend in years."
But Lucy was looking thoughtful. "So, wait, you're saying that, no matter when they call you, you drop everything and rub one out?"
I nodded. "Pretty much."
"On the
bus
?" Lucy reached for the wine. "I
have
to hear about this!"
***
I was on the bus heading back from the airport, on a cold afternoon. I'd been away for an overnight trip, so I just had a sports bag of clothes next to me on the double-seat. Buses are pretty regular from the airport, and everyone from inbound flights had boarded the one ahead of me, so I almost had the bus to myself as it pulled out from the stand. I had my earbuds in, listening to music. Just staring out of the window at nothing, miles away.
My phone rang, interrupting the music. Unknown number. My heart skipped a beat; by now,
unknown number
had begun to mean things were about to get interesting, rather than an annoying spam call, or worse. I answered it, hopeful.
"He's fucking me again," said Mia. "'I'm spreadeagled on the square frame."
"What's a square frame?" I asked.
"Just what it sounds like, honey. Like a life-size, free-standing picture frame without the canvas. I'm naked and tied to the corners, and my guy is behind me, eating me out from behind. Mmm. He's pulling back on my hips, and I'm pushing my ass out so that he can get his tongue real deep."
I picked up my bag, and moved it onto my lap, then slid my hand into my jeans, cupping my sex. "I'm on the bus."
Mia laughed. She was always amused when she caught me at awkward times. "Well, this will be interesting for you. Are you playing with yourself yet?"
"...Yes."