Holly got home from work to the sound of the phone ringing. "Crap!" she muttered, dropping her purse on the floor and running for the living room. Normally, she would have just let it go to voicemail, but she was expecting Kim to stop by or call about the free 'Hamilton' tickets she'd hinted she might be able to score for tonight, and she would be damned to a thousand fiery hells if she was going to miss that particular message. She scooped up the phone on the third ring, answered it just as the fourth was starting, and shouted, "Hello?" a bit more loudly than she intended to.
But all she heard on the other end was, "hhhhh... hhhhh..." Holly rolled her eyes. Who actually made obscene phone calls in this day and age? The Internet gave horny perverts webcams, bondage-themed social networking sites, and an endless supply of free porn. Who the ever-living fuck still got off on calling random strangers and masturbating?
She took the phone away from her ear to check the caller ID, but the stupid display was dark. Holly tapped it a couple of times, hoping to jar something back into position, but it didn't even flicker. Meaning that not only did Holly not know who was jerking off in her ear, she wouldn't be able ignore any phone calls for the rest of the night.
Holly sighed. Whoever it was, they were going at it pretty loud; even with the receiver six inches away from her face, Holly could still hear them panting. "HhhhhHHHhh... hhhhHHHHhhhh..." They sounded practically hoarse from the effort.
Holly decided she'd had enough. "What the fuck ever, sleazebag," she snapped out, stabbing her finger down on the disconnect button. She put it back on the receiver and flopped down on the couch in easy reach of the handset. She still wasn't sure whether to be pissed off or just plain surprised at the unexpected heavy breather. Some people officially had too much fucking free time.
Like her. Not in a 'time to call up total strangers and get off on them yelling at me through the phone' kind of way, but the musical didn't start until eight o'clock and it wasn't even half past four yet. She'd already grabbed a bite to eat before she came home, she didn't need to get changed, and she couldn't leave the apartment until she heard from Kim. Or until three hundred dollars spontaneously materialized in her bank account so that she could pay her cell phone bill, Holly thought ruefully.
Still, tonight would be a welcome escape from money worries. Three hours of Broadway bliss without having to wonder how she was paying for the ticket. She'd have to pay Kim back, of course, but that was in the usual currency of favors and informal barter that she was perfectly happy to accommodate. If only her landlord didn't insist on rent in actual money...
Holly decided to skip that particular pit of despair, and instead lost herself in the planning process for repaying Kim. She could probably get a few comp tickets at the restaurant if she agreed to knit Linda her own sweater like the one Holly made for Dana, and Jakob would probably help out with the yarn with his employee discount if she got him into the club on Saturday, and she could score some passes from Evan if she agreed to watch his son for a few hours while he and Gary went to the munch, which pretty much left her free and clear so long as she didn't mind giving up her Sunday afternoon to-
The phone rang again. Holly grabbed it and answered on the first ring. "Hello?" she asked.
"HhhhhHHHHHHH..." Holly just about threw the phone at the wall in frustration. She did not need this bullshit, not tonight. Couldn't this guy go flash some joggers or something and leave her out of his sex life? Instead, she got to hear him gasping like a third-rate porn star into her ear. "Hhhhhhh... HhhhhHHHHhhh..."
"Oh, fuck off!" she shouted, hitting the disconnect button so hard the phone slipped out of her hand. She scooped it up off the floor, her face flushing with humiliation even there were no witnesses to her bout with klutziness, and hung it back on the receiver. She decided to watch a little television.
And of course, there was absolutely nothing on. Just a few game shows and some re-runs of shows that only avoided being antique by being pretty much worthless. Not for the first time, Holly wished she had cable. She went over to the bookshelf and started to rummage through her movie collection for something to watch.
She poked around aimlessly for a few minutes, unsure of exactly what she was looking for-she didn't want anything that she would actually get invested in, just in case Kim wanted to go out before they went to the theater, but she wasn't in the mood for total schlock, either. She finally decided that a little cinematic comfort food might help her get over the creepy caller. She tossed in 'The Hunger', and grabbed her knitting needles as the opening credits rolled.
Instead of focusing on the movie, though, Holly spent most of her time glaring at the phone in an effort to psychically compel Kim to call. She paid a little bit of attention to the opening sequence, because hello, David Bowie and Catherine Deneuve as sexy vampire swingers, but once it settled in and got plotty, she tuned it out. "Come on, Kim," she muttered, already beginning to get the sinking feeling that maybe those tickets weren't the sure thing that Kim had suggested they were.
Holly decided not to think about it. She knitted furiously, taking out her frustrations on the defenseless yarn for a little while and letting the movie get to the good bit. But just as David Bowie was starting to get a little less attractive, the phone rang again. Holly grimaced and set down her knitting, trying to keep the stitch count in her head, pause the movie, and still pick up the phone before (Kim) whoever it was (Kim) hung up and (she didn't get the tickets) she didn't find out what they wanted-
"HhhhhHHHHHhhhh..." The breathing on the other end of the line sounded desperate, almost tortured. "HHHHHHHHH..." Whoever this guy was, he was clearly having problems getting his rocks off. "HhhHHHhhhHhHhHHH..."
Not that Holly gave two fucks. "Jesus fucking Christ!" she shouted into the receiver. "What the fuck is it with you? I don't give a fuck what your sick pervy thing is, okay? I'm waiting for a real goddamn call, so leave me the fuck alone. Got it?"
But all she heard on the other end of the line was, "HHHhhhhh... hhhhHHHHHhhhh..." Not that she was expecting an apology, but Jesus Fuck, the guy didn't even ask what she was wearing. Wasn't that what they were all supposed to ask? Or was that just phone sex lines? Holly disconnected the call and slammed the receiver down hard before remembering that was the whole reason she no longer had a caller ID screen that worked.
Holly restarted the movie and the knitting, beginning to readjust her expectations for the evening. Free tickets to the hottest musical on Broadway? Probably not going to happen. Frozen pizza, cheap booze, and another viewing of 'The Hunger' once Kim got here? Still a pretty decent night, especially when they got to the good bit. Kim always liked to act out the good bit.
Idly, Holly wondered who Kim would decide to be tonight. Usually, she liked to be Catherine Deneuve, all suave and magnetic and irresistible. It suited Kim perfectly, all that sensual power under such perfect control. Holly shivered a little, remembering the way Kim even did the French accent as she recited the dialogue right along with the movie.
But every once in a while, Kim wanted to be Susan Sarandon. She always looked so different when she was Susan, suddenly hesitant and meek, caught in the grip of a compulsion she didn't understand and couldn't escape. It was a side of her she didn't show any of her other friends or play partners-even Holly had only seen it a few times. Holly squeezed her thighs together, thinking about the shy and tender way Kim pulled her shirt over her head and let Holly take control.
On the screen, David Bowie was busy committing decidedly unsexy murder, but Holly wasn't really seeing the television. She was seeing the movie inside her head, already fast-forwarded to the part where the immortal vampiress took one look at the nervous young woman and drew her into a web of delicious control. She was thinking about the first time she watched it with Kim-they were both thinking the same thing, but each of them thought the other one would think it was...weird.
But the room was so warm by the time they got to the good bit. Holly remembered blushing furiously, the blood rushing to her skin and practically radiating heat all over. She remembered feeling like a human furnace, watching Susan Sarandon get that distant, helpless look on her face as she said, "I don't even know why I'm here." And she remembered looking over at Kim and seeing that same blush...
Holly realized she was still squeezing her thighs together, her body naturally falling into a pleasant rhythm of squeeze and release, squeeze and release. She was incredibly wet already just thinking about it. Something about the idea of vampires always got Holly hot and bothered-Kim too, thankfully. Maybe it was that idea of being drawn to something dangerous. Everyone in a vampire movie always knew they were heading for trouble, but their desire was too strong to resist. Holly set down the knitting needles that hadn't actually moved in several minutes, her fingers drifted down to the waistband of her jeans-
The phone rang. Holly almost dropped it when she went to reach for it. "Um, hi, hello, hi?" she babbled, her voice almost a full octave higher than normal. If it was Kim, she was inclined to tell her to come over now so they could get in a little fun before the musical.
But it was just her old friend, the creepy perv. "hhhhHHHHhhhhh..." he said, in the half-second before Holly disconnected the phone. She had better things to do right now than listen to someone else masturbate. She unbuttoned her jeans and pulled down the zipper, caressing her pussy through the damp fabric. "Much better," she murmured to herself as she rubbed the heel of her hand slowly against her clit.
On the screen, reality had finally caught up with her fantasies as Susan Sarandon paid her call on the seductive French vampire. "I don't even know why I'm here," Holly mouthed along with the screen, her nipples stiffening under her shirt as she ground her hips slowly against her hand.
Holly knew the scene by heart, and her body settled into a rhythm of self-pleasure timed perfectly to the story beats. When Catherine Deneuve poured the sherry, she slowly slid her hand inside her panties and began to stroke her labia. As Susan Sarandon lounged on the chair, not even realizing how beautiful she looked, and said, "Are you making a pass at me, Mrs. Blaylock?", Holly slipped in a finger and began to gently push it in and out.
Susan Sarandon spilled the sherry, and Holly added a second finger. Her other hand was busy with her breasts, rubbing her nipples through the fabric and whimpering as each touch sent sharp tingles of pleasure through her whole body. By the time the characters on the screen were naked, Holly was groaning with bliss and her eyes were only half-focused. She knew when she would cum, when she always came. Every time, when Catherine Deneuve kissed the inside of Susan's arm and marked Susan with her fangs...
