Page 6 of Hotline
She clicks something on her computer. A printer in the corner of the cramped room whirrs to life and shoots out a few pages. She huffs out a breath and brings them to me.
"Look at this." She smacks the printout with the back of her hand. "In this conversation, you convinced a guy to get his cat spayed." She licks her finger and feathers through the papers. "Here, you told a guy he should go to the eye doctor because floaters in your vision can be a sign of astigmatism, and you then launched into a whole monologue about how your grandfather had a glass eye.”
Okay. She has a point.
"What if I promise to improve?" I say, a lump forming in my throat. I swipe my fingers beneath my eyes to stop them from stinging, but I can feel the tears already forming. "I swear I'll get better. Just give me one more chance.Please.”
"Fine. You get one more chance," she says, her voice sharp and snappy. "But one more shift like this one and you're out of here."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," I say. "I promise I’ll do better."
I turn around, dashing out of the office. I push through the revolving door, a sick feeling swirling inside me.
I don't know if I can do this. Despite my promise to my boss, I don’t know if I’ll be able to talk dirty to strange men without gagging.
But I have to try.
Chapter Two
Mr. Lennox
It's a rainy,foggy evening; the twisted colors of neon tubes in pawn-shop windows blur through raindrops as I drive.
I like seeing unfamiliar parts of the city. More buildings for me to buy. More buildings for me to put my name on.
The buildings around here look awful, mostly abandoned. I peer out at graffiti-tagged, crumbling facades. When I see this place, I feel a pit of sadness deep inside my stomach. I also feel a sense of potential.
Where some people see rundown buildings that need to be boarded up and never thought of again, I see the opportunity to build affordable housing and lovely parks. Where people see rectangular, squat, ugly buildings, I see…
An angel.
I slam on the brakes, my car skidding to a stop.
A pale yellow light flickers from inside a building across the street as someone walks toward the door. It's a woman — a young woman with long brown hair, waves falling softly down her back. Her white tank top shows her bra straps peeking out. My cock snaps up like it's attached to a spring. Her soft, modest tits bounce with every step she takes.
Her face is just too beautiful to put into words. Delicate but strong. Each soft feature works together in perfect harmony. Her big green eyes seem to glow from the inside. Her lips seem to be on the verge of speaking. They're thick and luscious, and I can't help but imagine pulling her into my arms and feasting on them, making them raw with my absolute need for her.
I roll down my window to get a better look at this beautiful creature.
She darts across the street as a bus pulls up. She drops some change into the slot, walks to the back, and collapses into a seat. Shoulders slumped, looking down, but the fire inside her does not go out.
The neon lights of an all-night corner store illuminate her face in a light pink glow. She looks like an angel. I half-expect a glowing halo to appear over her.
An old woman pushing a shopping cart ambles down the street as the bus door closes. My angel leaps to her feet and runs to the front of the bus.
The doors open and she steps outside.
“Wait,” she shouts over her shoulder to the driver. “Don’t leave yet.”
I imagine she’s talking to me — telling me not to leave, telling me to wait for her.
I swallow thickly as an unfamiliar feeling surges through me.
I don't think I've ever wanted something so badly. So completely. So...consumingly.
She helps the old lady get onto the bus. She even escorts her to the nearest seat and says something to the guy sitting there.
This guy is a big, rough motherfucker with tattoos all over his bald head.
