"When men take a position on high moral grounds, it is almost always a bluff." - Anonymous Quote
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The phone rang seven times before Fuller finally picked it up. His recently divorced roommate, Dave Peters had just left to do some grocery shopping so Fuller knew it was not Peters calling. Consolidated Foods had fired Fuller the day before, and he was expecting them to call. They wanted him to return the keys to their warehouse. When they called, Fuller would tell them that they could just go fuck themselves. He would keep their damn keys.
"Daddy, is that you?" The voice was small, uncertain, and female.
"I think you have the wrong number," Fuller said quickly.
"No, I'm your naughty daughter," the voice insisted.
"How did you get my phone number?"
"I found it in Mom's purse. She lied. She told me you abandoned us. But I know you love me. I know you'd never leave me."
Fuller listened as the words tumbled out of the young girl's mouth. Her voice was full of anguish and relief. She spoke quickly, afraid that Fuller might hang up.
"You're not mad at me are you?"
Uncertain about where this phone call was going, Fuller told her the truth. "No, I'm not mad at you."
There was an uncomfortable silence. He could hear her breath. It was heavy breathing, exaggerated huffs and puffs exhaled directly into the telephone.
Fuller waited.
"Guess what I'm doing?"
"Breathing on the telephone," Fuller said blandly. He was not amused.
"I'm touching myself."
"Where?" asked Fuller gathering interest.
"Between my legs."
Fuller suspected this was a clever solicitation from some 1-900-FUCKME business or a government sting operation against suspected pedophiles. He knew it was not his daughter. He did not have a daughter. And if he did have a daughter from one of his numerous affairs, she would not be making sex telephone calls. His daughter would be screaming at him for abandoning her, or cursing him for not paying child support. But this teen was whispering sultry obscenities.
"Do I know you?" Fuller asked.
"Of course, I'm your daughter," answered the young lady sounding indignant, "You like teasing me, don't you?"
Her voice sounded vaguely familiar. Fuller was trying to place it with a face.
"Describe yourself" Fuller asked.
"My right hand is between my legs fucking my pussy. My panties are pulled to one side. My finger is wet. I'm pushing it in and out like you taught me."
"No, tell me what you look like."
"You know what I look like. I have blond hair, and blue eyes, and small cupcake boobs. I put on Mom's baby doll nightgown and her lipstick. If you were here, I would put lipstick marks on your pee pee to make you hard."
To Fuller, it sounded like the description of a little girl trying to grow up too fast. Frustrated, he knew he would never identify the girl from her self-description. He gave up. He was certain the call was some sort of trick. By going along, not pushing the issue, the girl would get to the gimmick faster. He was confident that he could keep up his end of the conversation without getting into trouble.
"Kissable lips?" asked Fuller urging her on.
