Hotline Fling

15: A Second Look

Damian's POV

One fucking picture.

Four evenings after I ended the call with June, I sat at my home office desk. Like every night, I drooled at her picture. Despite my dick pic, I wasn't usually much for dirty pictures, but hers read sweet and innocent. Like she'd been caught doing something she didn't normally do.

I zoomed in to where the tip of her index finger dipped out of view between her thighs. Her black corset was tied with a light purple ribbon and edged with the same color lace. It hugged her body, making me want to rip it off her to see more of her honey-toned skin. I couldn't have stopped the movement between my legs if I had tried. The way she covered up made me want to see everything. I hadn't imagined what June looked like from her voice, but hot was an understatement. She checked every box I had, and ones – like coy and teasing– I didn't know existed.

My dick reminded me it was still hard, the thick base pinching my balls harder into my thighs the longer I gaped. She was one of the sexiest-looking girls I'd ever seen. I pushed my hand into my boxers, freed my trapped balls, ran my fingers up my stiff shaft, and tugged it. "June, what are you doing to me?" I asked as if that smile knew.

I ran one finger over the curve of her thighs and waist, shifting my hips against my clenched fist, rub for rub. The pressure built fast, surging with the need to release it. The familiar rush of warmth and desire hit me as my cock tightened. Heat spiked through my body. A few hard strokes, hip thrusts, and shameless groans later, I released with a pulse. Thick, warm cum spilled onto my hand, over the seam of my boxers, and the side of my leg.

"This girl." I chuckled at my fourth mess from her, went into the bathroom, and cleaned myself up. She sure increased my laundry pile.

Lord help me if I ever meet her in person. I'll need a spare change of clothes.
Or two.

The thought paused me at the sink, and I blinked. My hair was long and uneven, my five o'clock shadow was more like midnight, and dark creases carved semi-circles under my red-tinged eyes. They burned at me at what my previous thoughts implied. Did I want to meet her? Using her voice and one picture, she got me off for sure. Was I stupid to think there was any actual attraction there?

Would she want to meet me? No, she's just really good at her job.
Won't know if I don't ask.

I called her second number to a generic robot voicemail, where I left her a pathetic message with my number and tossed my phone on the counter. "What the fuck are you doing, Damian?"

Bending down, I retrieved my hair clippers kit from under my sink and cleaned up my uneven hair. From an inch and a half long on top to a fade around my ears, I went one size smaller blade at a time for a standard high and tight. Once I hadn't fucked up the back too much, I carefully shaved with the blade set Dad gave me for graduation. A lot of hair swept up, and a quick shower later, I was more naked but refreshed. Scratching at an itchy neck from the haircut like a dog with a plastic cone around its neck wasn't the look I was going for.

I had changed my clothes to meet Jason when my phone rang. The caller ID number was similar to June's work extension, but a man's voice came through. "Mr. Rivera?"

"Yeah," I grunted and slipped on my leather coat. It was mandatory for my transportation, but the black went well with my jeans. I ran one hand over my stomach, smoothing my shirt. One benefit of being single was frequenting the gym daily, so my body lacked 'problem areas,' as the Precinct's trainer called them.

"I'm Kevin Barnes, a manager from Wet Dreams." I frowned, but the business card I left on the kitchen counter verified the name of the phone sex company. "I'm just calling to see how your experiences have been. Your sexual client representative is new, so this is just standard manager-customer feedback communication."