The Phone One Night

What does it mean when the phone rings in the dead of night? When the household is silent except for quiet, regular breathing and the darkness is pierced only by tiny points of yellow moonlight through the blinds? Has there been as accident? Is someone very sick? Always when that shrill ring wakes a sleeper, a pulse begins to race.

The phone was on the night table just beside her head. She hardly had to move except to lift her arm. Being the light sleeper that she was, only one ring escaped before she'd lifted the receiver from it's cradle. The noise echoed in the stillness as faint as a memory. Just because her physical reaction was instantaneous did not mean that her mental faculties had kicked in with equal speed. The sound she made was more "huh nuh?" than "hello?"

"Are you alone?" a deep, whispering voice invaded her world.

Half asleep in the dark, one might have thought this to be an unwanted, obscene call. One might be half right. She recognized the voice immediately. The pulse that had quickened at the first sound thumped even faster behind her breast.

"No," she admitted in a disappointed tone, much softer than a whisper.

"I don't care," the voice growled, "I want you now."

A longing welled up in her chest, accompanied by a rush of sudden terror at being found out by the sleeper beside her. She could only answer, "Yes" in a breathless sigh.

"Is he asleep?" the caller wanted to know.

Hardly daring to breathe herself, she strained in the darkness to judge the sound of her husband's breath. It was deep, small snuffly snores escaping parted lips.

"Yes," she answered fearfully. If he awoke and found her on the phone like this, all hell would break loose.

"You're naked, aren't you." It was a statement, not a question.

She had sat up in bed now, turning away from her husband, her legs over the side. At her caller's words, her skin broke out in chills. It was as if he could see her sitting there in the dark, shivering but not cold.

A small whimper served as an affirmative.

"Your little nipples are getting hard now."

They were. So stiff they were almost sore, the aureola crinkled tight as dry raisins. Her eyes were closed, her breath coming a little faster. All the while she listened to his voice, part of her mind monitored her husband's sleep, listening for any change in the sound. Her whole body was tense as if ready to spring up in flight.

"Open your legs, darling." She did.

"Wider," he said and again she was struck with the feeling that his eyes were on her. The way he knew her so well was what made her almost helpless to his directions.

"Open your pretty lips for me," he directed. "I want to see if you are glistening and ready for me."

With one white-knuckled hand gripping the phone, she moved her other hand over her thigh and down to the bare skin between her legs. It was so soft, just shaved hours ago, and very hot from being under the covers.

"Tell me what you want"

Another whimper. She wanted to speak out loud it was hard to hold back. She loved how he made her be loud sometimes, letting out feelings she tried to deny. But she was deathly afraid of rousing the sleeper.

"Do it," he growled again.

"I can't," she barely made a sound. "He'll hear me."

"You won't, you mean," he spoke with vinegar in his tone. "Then I'll just hang up and not waste my time." His voice grew faint and she new he'd pulled his phone away from his mouth.

All the practical parts of her knew it was the best thing if he left her alone in silence, but her whole being silently screamed "NO!" at the thought of being deserted in this state. It came out a pleading whisper, "Please no."

For a moment she was afraid it was too late, but then she heard his breath. "Then tell me what you want. Even if he is awake and listening, I want you to say it."

Shaking so badly that she could barely hold the phone, she murmured, "I want you. I want to please you. To feel you inside of me."

"Beg me, my whore."

"Please," she moaned as loud as she dared, "Please stay with me and let me please you."

"Push a finger inside," he commanded. "I know you are nice and wet already, aren't you?"

"Yes," she sighed, doing just as he instructed. Sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs spread wide, she was totally open to the cool air. Her long middle finger wiggled between the puffy lips and pressed into the hot, slick opening. There was no way to stifle this new moan.

"Ah, yes," she heard the sound of his own lust, knowing that he was hard and touching himself also. It heightened her arousal until it was a blue fog inside her brain, totally overwhelming, canceling out everything else.

"That's my hand touching you," he said. "That's my finger inside of you. Can you feel me there?"

"Yes," she answered boldly now, louder. She still listened for any stirring from her husband but now she didn't care nearly as much.

"Stroke your clit, my little slut," he instructed. "I want to hear it. I want to hear how wet you are."

In the stillness, her finger in the wet cleft did make a slurping kind of noise. It was unmistakable and he could hear it over the line.

"Oh yes," he urged her on, "Faster, baby, faster. I want to hear you cum for me."

The fear was almost tangible on her quivering skin. She rubbed herself faster and harder all the sensations working together to bring her quickly into a frenzy. Her breath was a gasp, she tried hard to muffle it and tried harder not to care. Her breasts jiggled deliciously with the effort.

"Yes, baby, that's it. Feel my tongue on you in you!"

He gave her another minute, picturing her sitting naked, her body vulnerable to anything he wanted.

"Cum now, cum for me! I want to hear you! Don't hold back! Don't be afraid!"

"Yes!" she hissed through clenched teeth, "Ohhhh yes!" Her body shook with each contraction. With every spasm, there was a deep intake of breath. The sound of her dampness wafted up to her nostrils.

"You know what I want to hear," he demanded. He had reached his own climax at the same time but needed one more thing to make it complete.

She knew. She did it every time he made her cum. She did it when she was alone and made herself cum. It was second nature to do it.

Falling into the sweet warmth of total submission, she said, "I love you." As she continued to come, she said it over and over again. "I love you! I love you!"

They shared silence afterwards, each coming down in their own way. Her fierce listening resumed - she was certain no one could have slept near her through that.

It seemed he had though. He'd not even stirred. But then he'd once slept through an earthquake.

"Go clean up now and get back to sleep," his deep voice said. This was his professional voice, one she could listen to forever and never tire of.

"Yes, Sir," she was very reluctant for him to go but he knew it was best. There was inherent danger on both their parts - it was the ingredient that made it so much sweeter.

"I'll talk to you later."

She nodded as he hung up and she did the same.

Her legs almost charley-horsed as she stood and went around the big bed to the bathroom. She locked the door and sat there in the darkness. The intensity of the experience had brought tears to her eyes and now shudders of relief washed over her. Sexual relief, relief at not being found out… mixing in her brain like the wild waters of a delta. The feeling was almost indescribable - as if someone had suffocated her just to the point of unconsciousness then let precious air rush in. Like she'd been falling a great distance and then been lifted up at the very last minute. Like swerving to miss a truck coming at her head-on.

Several minutes passed before she was able to creep quietly back to bed. The covers felt extraordinarily warm and comforting, like arms around her. She felt small, insignificant - just like she wanted to feel. Sleep was not far away.

She talked to him later in the day. Strangely, he didn't ask what she thought about the call. In fact, he didn't mention it at all. She felt compelled to.

"What call?" he asked, a genuinely puzzled look in his tone.

"Last night. You called."

"It wasn't me," he said, then asked with disapproval, "Who else have you been giving your number to?"

"No one!" she exclaimed. "No one has it but you."

He shrugged. "Some other pervert then," he said with a twinkle in his eye. She did not doubt him for a second though, instead she doubted herself.

"Maybe you dreamed it?" he suggested.

No one else knew her number, no one else had awakened at the sound of the phone, her husband had not awakened all during her conversation. Could she have dreamed the whole thing?

She smiled up at him. Did it really matter how it happened? Not to her heart.