Page 48 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

That tension builds between my legs and I squeeze my thighs together more, but I can’t help it. Before I know it, my hips softly thrust against nothing. Wishing desperately that he were really here. It feels like he already is.

“You’re making me feel so good,” I cry. “I-I think I’m going to come.”

“Me too, sweetheart. Me too, I want us to come together.”

“Yes,yes.” And even though there’s nothing touching me, I come hard, my toes going numb in my sneakers as I cry out in the middle of the office.

The sound of his orgasm follows and I sink down into my chair, the muscles that have been tense for hours all releasing at the same time and the throbbing ache between my legs begins to dissipate.

Then all too quickly, I realize where I am. What just happened? I bolt upright in my chair, pushing the sweaty hair away from my forehead. My hand grips the phone as my eyes widen and I glance around me at the walls of my cubicle. Now my heart rate spikes because of an entirely different reason.

I just had a real orgasm over the phone with a complete stranger.

This is too personal. I’ve never let myself get this carried away. Never been so caught up in the act that it turned real. I feel dirty, and not in a good way. A horrible taste fills my mouth as I think about Joel. How he’s been so kind and romantic in his funny way. How he wants to date me, get to know me. How he’s crazy, but what the fuck am I doing where I have a man like that and let another get me off over the phone?

“You okay?”

“I . . . I don’t—” I think I might start hyperventilating. A single tear slips down my cheek. “I’m not sure.”

I expect him to hang up. To sayuntil next time, sweetheartlike he did before and leave me to sit here in my self-hatred and spiral.

“That was pretty intense,” he says softly. “I don’t want to leave until I know you’re okay.”

“Yeah . . .” I breathe. “Intense. Yes.”

“Just take some deep breaths,” he continues. “If I were there, I’d wrap my arms around you and stroke your hair.”

I almost chuckle as I realize I’m mindlessly stroking a thick strand of my hair for comfort. “That would feel nice.”

“You’ve got a very strong grip. The kind a burglar needs.”

My heart stutters as I recognize that line. “Hey, is that—are you watchingTo Catch a Thief?”

There’s a pause as the music from my favorite movie swells in the background. “Oh, yeah. It was on the TV when I called. I can turn it off . . .”

“No!” I cry, then wince. If my moaning didn’t draw attention, shouting certainly will. “Sorry, I just mean . . . it doesn’t bother me.”

“Have you seen it before?”

“It’s one of my favorites.”

There’s a pause before the dialogue and music of the movie becomes louder, like he’s turned up the volume just for me.

“Can you hear it?” he asks.

I smile. “Yes.”

“Good. We can watch it together if you like.”

My lips part. “Wait . . . what? Like through the phone?”

“Sure, why not?”

I glance up to the clock above me, it’s three fifty in the morning. “I know it’s not your first time but . . . usually once guys get what they called for—you know . . .”

“They hang up?”

“I mean, you are paying by the minute.”

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