one
Petra
The phone ringsand I jolt, causing the perfect cat eye that I’m applying with electric-blue liquid liner to go crooked. Exhaling with a huff, I slump into the leather armchair and wrinkle my nose at the hollering landline. I am not cut out for this receptionist job, but I wasn’t exactly given achoicewhen it came to my employment, was I?
I am the youngest of five sisters.
The runt.
The brat.
The grunt.
An endless source of amusement to my four older sisters, each of whom owns a stake in Sweet Fleet: An Escort Agency, based just outside of good old Las Vegas.
They escort, while I schedule their dates from the safety of my boring air-conditioned office. And don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t rather be working in the field. No way. It is my goal in life to never be pawed by some garlic-breathed businessman in the high roller suite of the MGM. That life isnotfor me. Not that I’m judging.
But I’d rather be doing something else.
Petra Kowalski: Makeup Artist to the Stars.
Heck, I’d take a company of showgirls. I just want to work with makeup.
Anything to avoid answering this phone and having to hear the lecherous excitement in the voice of another client. But that’s what I get paid to do…and this call has been ringing a while, so I better answer.
While leaning forward and attempting to fix my smudged cat eye, I hit the button for speakerphone, since I’m alone in the office. “Good evening,” I say in a practiced, sultry tone. Have to create the right vibe, don’t I? “This is Sweet Fleet. What can we do for you?”
There’s a long pause on the other end. Then, finally, “Yeah. Hi.”
My eyes widen involuntarily, caught off guard by the deepest voice I’ve ever heard. Male. Gruff. Resonant. “Hello, sir. Are you calling to schedule a date?”
The sound of pacing commences on his end of the line. “Something like that.”
Uh oh.
This guy must be into something kinky, but he’s not ready to share any particulars. Maybe it’s just his first time pursuing a particular fetish and he’s shy talking about it? It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened. It wouldn’t even be the first timethis week.
I’m a virgin myself. But I’ve gotten quite an education sitting in this chair.
I probably know more about sex than any other virgin on planet earth.
“Sir, I’ve been working the phones for Sweet Fleet for a whole year. There is no kink this gal hasn’t heard about. Believe me. This is a judgment-free zone.”
His laugh is chagrined. Pleasant, too, oddly enough. “It’s not…a kink thing.”
Sure. “Oh.”
“I’ve just never done this before. I never thought I would.”
“I see.” I frown at my reflection in the makeup mirror. I’m used to first timers, as well, but there’s something different about this guy. He’s not eager and out of breath, the way most callers get when they’re arranging to meet an escort. “Why don’t we start with your name.”
“Right. Barry.”
“Barry,” I echo, adding a little coaxing to my tone, my finger winding around the curly phone cord. “What’s your idea of a perfect date?”
He’s quiet for a good five seconds. “Are you old enough to be taking these calls?”
I rear back, affronted. “What? I’m using my most seductive voice!”
