Charlotte:My fingers are a poor substitute
I read her message a dozen times before it sunk in. I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to say to that. Whatever it was though, I refused to say it via text. Hitting the call button, I waited for the line to connect.
Adjusting the bulge in the front of my sweatpants, I groaned.
“Hello.” Her voice was as sweet as it was nervous.
“You can’t say shit like that to me.” Mine was dangerously low and gravelly.
“Sorry?” She made it sound like a question.
“No you’re not,” I reminded her, wishing this was a video call so I could see her face. Hearing her voice just wasn’t enough.
“You’re right. I’m not.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Admit it. You like it,” Charlotte accused, and she wasn’t wrong.
“I didn’t say I didn’t.”
“How’s your weekend going? I mean, besides dealing with a teenager,” Charlotte asked.
Talking to her was so easy it surprised me. We could flick from topic to topic seamlessly and so far, we hadn’t had any of those uncomfortable silences.
“Tell me it gets easier,” I begged.
“Hate to break it to you, Luke. But you have teenage female hormones in your future,” Charlotte reminded me. Something I was doing everything I could to pretend was a million years away even though I was well aware it would be here before I was ready.
“You’re a mean, mean woman, Doctor Rowe.”
“Yeah, but again … you like it.”
“Yeah. I do,” I admitted not bothering to deny it. “Let me see when I can get a sitter for Isla.”
“Okay. Whenever you’re ready. There’s no rush.”
“Oh, Charlotte. Trust me, there’s a rush,” I clarified, adjusting my dick again.
I’d jerked off more in the last two months than I had in the last six years. I was giving myself callouses.
“Well, let me know when you’re free.”
“Will do.”
“I better let you go. I’m sure you’ve got something better to do than spend all day talking to me,” Charlotte said self-deprecatingly.
“Not at all. I have a big afternoon of grocery shopping and vacuuming ahead of me.”
“Gotta love adulting.”
“No, not really.”
“Enjoy your afternoon, Luke. I’ll see you soon,” Charlotte said, sounding hopeful, at least that’s what I chose to believe was in her voice.
“You can bet on it. Take care, Charlotte.”
I ended the call and sat on my bed staring at the phone in my hand.
