Alana sat on the end of her king-size bed, a cordless phone in one hand and a pornographic magazine in the other. She nervously chewed on the small antennae, and then took a deep breath. She punched the phone on and, reading from the magazine, dialed eleven numbers. It barely rang once before a recorded man's voice answered.
"Hello," it said, "And welcome to--"
Abruptly, Alana hung up. She slammed the phone down into the plush, crimson bedspread and tossed the magazine across the room. She sighed heavily, then let herself fall backward onto the bed. She said nothing, and stared up at the ceiling.
Alana was 26, though she appeared much younger. In fact, many people would often mistake her and her 18 year-old brother, Gavin, for twins. They didn't look anything alike; Alana had her mother's blonde hair and blue eyes, while Gavin took after their father with brown hair and eyes to match. She had a cute button nose, flawless skin, and a big, toothy smile—all of which contributed to Alana often being mistaken for a high school senior.
Those who knew her, however, were all too aware of how mature this young woman really was. Alana's parents had died when she was 23, leaving her to take care of herself and Gavin. To pay the bills, she dropped out of college and started a small moving company with her best friend, Rene. The business succeeded, making it possible to keep the 3-bedroom house she had grown up in. Gavin, meanwhile, had turned out to be a great person, a great brother, and, as her star employee, an essential part of the company.
All of this, however, was not without it's drawbacks. Since Alana needed more money than Rene did, she took on more of the responsibility. This meant more time at work, and virtually no time on the dating scene. It didn't help that she was generally shy to begin with. Since the tragedy three years ago, Alana had only had a single one-night stand, and three or four one-month long relationships.
Now all of that negligence of her sex life was catching up with her. The last time she had slept with a guy was over six months ago. In the time since, Alana had tried everything she could think of to keep her urges at bay: Internet porn, erotica, XXX videos and magazines, vibrators . . . and now this. But nothing seemed to work. Nothing could replace the physical act with another person. She needed a man, and she was desperate.
Taking a deep breath, Alana picked up the phone and made another call. This time a woman's voice answered.
"What the fuck do you want?" the woman answered in a playful voice. It was Rene.
Alana laughed, then sighed heavily over the phone. She laid her free hand over her eyes. "I'm horny," she whined, giggling.
"Oh!" Rene laughed. "And you called me? I wondered how long it was going to take you to join the bi side."
Rene had been openly bisexual since high school. It had all started at a party when she had a threesome with a dating couple from school. The plan was to concentrate on the boyfriend and break him away from the girl. But that changed when Rene found out just how much she enjoyed the girl, and she hadn't looked back since. Though she now had a definite inclination towards women, sometimes, as a smiling Rene would often put it, you just can't beat a good dick. "That's not exactly the kind of help I was looking for," Alana replied, giggling again.
"All right, all right. When was the last time you got off?"
"About a week ago," Alana answered. It was a lie. She had actually fingered herself to a very intense orgasm just last night, but she wasn't about to get into the details of that with Rene. Alana wanted help getting her next cum, not explaining her last one. Especially since—
"Hey, don't feel bad," Rene replied. "It's been a busy week. My last orgasm was five days ago, and that's a lifetime for me. But—sorry—we were talking about you. Go on."
"I'm just... I'm sick of doing it to myself, you know?"
"Perfectly understandable. What about those personals sites I told you about?"
"I don't know," Alana said. "I don't think I'm comfortable meeting someone like that. I mean, I don't want a one-night stand, but then I'm too busy for any real relationship, so . . . I don't know." She sighed again. "Maybe I do want a one-night stand."
Rene laughed. "I'll make a few phone calls."
"Actually, that's what I was doing right before I called you. I dialed this phone sex number--"
"Oh!" Rene gasped. "Phone sex? There might be a sexual beast inside that body of yours after all. So what was it? 1-900-Hot-Hard-And-Horny?"
"Something like that. But I chickened out."
"You what? Why?"
"I guess I don't get it," Alana replied. "I don't know how."
"There is no how," Rene explained. "Just say what turns you on. Phone sex is all about communication and visualization."
"Yeah," Alana said. "That's what worries me; the communication part. I don't know what to say. I'm afraid I'll be like, 'Oh baby, fuck my cunt with that big hard dick!' or something."
"Um, Alana. That's what phone sex is."
"I know," Alana sighed. "I just don't feel right talking like that to some stranger over the phone. I'd be so nervous I probably wouldn't even enjoy it."
"All right," Rene said. "Tell you what. We'll practice."
"Oh God," Alana groaned, laughing.
"Seriously. Let's try it. Just so you can get an idea and not go in cold turkey."
"Ok," Alana said.
"All right. Now you be you, and I'll be the guy, and you be like you just called me."
There was a long silence. Finally, Rene broke back in. "What are waiting for?"
"I'm acting like I just called you," Alana laughed. "I'm waiting for you to pick up and answer."
"Oh, fuck," Rene said. "All right, all right." Then, imitating a man's deep voice, "Hello?"
Alana giggled. "Ok, I definitely can't do this if you're going to do voices."
"Fine, all right. We should start at the good stuff, anyway. So Alana, what are you wearing?"
Alana looked down over her body, and she couldn't shake the thought that what she was doing right now— rehearsing phone sex with her female friend--should be absolutely unnecessary. She was beautiful, with a body any guy would fall to their knees for. At 5'10", she was a bit tall, and though she had gained a pound or two and rarely worked out anymore, she had been lucky enough to keep a mostly athletic figure. Her stomach was flat and tight, her long legs smooth and strong, and she had a perfectly round, firm ass. Alana's breasts were a small d-cup--if any d-cup could really be considered small--and they were still as perky as ever. But right now all of those treasures were covered with a gray, plain, baggy—
"Sweat suit," Alana answered.
"Oh, Alana," Rene replied. Then, with heavy sarcasm, "So sexy."
"Well, what are you wearing?" Alana playfully snapped back.
"I'm not wearing anything but boxers and a cowboy hat."
"Oh, a cowboy hat," Alana teased. "Very masculine."
