‘Mm.’ She chewed her lip. ‘The thing is, I don’t have one.’
‘You’ve never used one?’
‘No. I should probably get one, shouldn’t I?’
‘I think you should. Even if you don’t get it for the phone sex, you should probably get some experience at using one.’
‘Okay. I’ll buy one for tomorrow night.’
‘Talk to you then.’
‘Oh, IlikeLuca,’ her mother said later, when everyone had gone and it was just the two of them. ‘I like him very much.’
‘He’s lovely, isn’t he?’
‘And so good-looking. You’ve obviously been holding out on me big-time, my girl. So tell all.’
‘There’s nothing to tell, Mum. We really are just friends.’
‘Well, that’s a pity.’
Claire shrugged.
‘It’s a real shame,’ Espie said, as Claire began to load the dishwasher. ‘Oh, and just so you know…’
‘Yes?’ Claire looked up.
‘I don’t buy that cock-and-bull story about performance-art classes for a minute.’
21
Hanging on the Telephone
The call comes in at 3a.m.. I’ve been expecting it. Mr Bossy has gone to Chicago on business, and we have a ‘date’ tonight – in other words, we’re doing phone sex.
I’ve been looking forward to his call, and just hearing his voice excites me. He opens with the classic: ‘What are you wearing?’ Now, the thing about phone sex is you don’t have to make any effort. You can lie. You can sit there in a face mask and flannel pyjamas, and say you’re wearing a bustier and crotchless knickers, and your lover won’t know the difference. But I think that’s cheating – and, besides, this is for me, too, so I want to feel sexy. I’ve set a mood. I’ve taken a long, luxurious bath. The bedroom is lit by candles, music is playing softly and I’ve been sipping a glass of champagne while I wait for his call. I had a Hollywood wax today, and got my hair done, just as if I was going on a real date. And when he asks what I’m wearing I’m telling the truth when I describe the black chiffon baby-doll he likes so much with the matching G string. I chose it deliberately so he can picture me clearly. He’s seen me in it many times and knows just how muchcleavage it shows, and that he can see my body through the sheer material.
When I ask, he tells me he’s wearing silk pyjama bottoms. I smile, knowing he’s worn them to please me because I like to watch him undress. I tell him I wish he was here to touch me, and he says I’ll have to stand in for him, please myself the way he would if he were here.
‘Lie back on the bed,’ he says, ‘and take off your knickers.’
I do as he tells me, wriggling out of the G-string while holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder.
‘Spread your legs,’ he says, and I do. Since I can’t give him an actual visual, I do the next best thing. I tell him that I got waxed today and I am completely bare. I describe how soft and smooth my skin feels, and he groans into the phone.
‘Oh, baby, I wish I could see you right now. Touch yourself for me.’
I start to stroke myself. ‘Are you wet?’ he asks, and his voice is thick and hoarse.
‘Yes,’ I whisper. ‘I’m so wet.’
‘I’m so hard for you, baby.’
‘Show me,’ I say. I hear rustling and I know he’s pulling off his pyjama bottoms. I can imagine his cock – I know how hard and thick his erection is. I can see him in his Chicago hotel room, naked and beautiful, and the longing is almost unbearable. ‘I want you so much,’ I whimper.
‘Ssh, baby, I know. I want you too.’ I take off the baby-doll on his instructions, and we’re naked together, separated by an ocean. He tells me what he would do if he were here, how he would touch me, and I touch myself the same way. I hold the vibrator close to the phone when I switch it on, knowing it’s a turn-on for him.
‘Let me hear you,’ he says, when I come, and I’m loud, gasping and screaming into the phone. A moment later he comes and I hear his groan across the miles, feel it deep inside me. I lie back on the bed,panting as the little aftershocks course through me. For a moment we lie there in silence, listening to each other breathe.
