1-900-Chloe (Chapter Two)

He'd accepted it now. He had a problem. He had a definite problem with Chloe giving random men phone sex. He had an even bigger problem in that he now couldn't stop thinking of Chloe in terms of real sex. He would take care of it. He was a capable guy. He was a good guy.

He wasn't doing anything wrong. There was nothing wrong with turning on the computer. There was also nothing wrong with typing Realgirlz.com in the browzer. He might have to delete the history later, for when his mother came back, but he still wasn't really doing anything. "Lillian" wasn't even on the list of available girls. It was nearly eight, though. She would be soon. He glanced over the barely concealed breasts and dye jobs and refreshed the page. His eyes searched out a redhead as he continued to tell himself he was really doing nothing wrong.

But he felt hot with shame, with guilt, with lust. This was so wrong. If Chloe knew he was doing something like this, she'd shove kryptonite where the sun didn't shine. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. His Lana fantasies had always been fairly easy events. Why were thoughts of Chloe so much harder? And so much harder to resist?

He opened his eyes and refreshed the page again. If he wanted thoughts of Chloe to stop, he had to let them come first. Just get them out of his system. Then he could look at her tomorrow and not think about her in every position these girls all over the screen were in. He could just see her. And maybe show he appreciated her. He didn't do that enough. He'd buy breakfast or lunch or...

Lillian.

He'd never appreciated a redhead so much. He clicked on her image and a larger one came into view. It wasn't the image he wanted. It was the words. He'd just see what she wrote. Then he'd be fine. This would be over.

I just want a man who knows what he wants. I'm not looking for a guy who can't figure it out. I have better things to do than wait around. I'm looking for HIM. The kind of guy with intent. The guy who sees what he wants and just takes it, grabs it, makes it his. Can you handle me? Keep in mind that I'm not a little girl. You're not looking at a delicate flower. I'm a woman with a woman's needs and a woman's body. All soft curves and strong limbs that want to wrap around the right man. Are you him? Can you handle a woman who knows what she wants? Call me if you think you can take me on.

Lillian

"Okay," he breathed. He'd done it. He'd read it. He'd be fine now. But what did she mean about a guy who can't figure it out? He... He shook his head. She wasn't talking about him. This was just a persona. Chloe wasn't the aggressive type. She'd never just grabbed him and... Well, she had, but there was always a reason.

He thought of that time in the elevator. She'd been reenacting events and she'd seemed so unconcerned, so relaxed. Like it was no biggie to push someone against a wall... or a filing cabinet. That, too. How could she be so free about it? So nonchalant when he'd had to spend several minutes imagining his old history teacher in a thong. His male history teacher.

He tried that now. But thongs just made it worse. He couldn't force the seventy year old man in. Not when Chloe kept standing there, winking at him, licking her lips...

"Okay," he breathed again. Maybe he wasn't done. Maybe he'd just... pick up the phone. Call her cell, ask to talk about something mundane. The screen said she was live and waiting. She didn't have a customer. They could discuss something completely unsexy like the periodic table of elements or prime numbers. He dialed her cell.

"Yes?"

"Hey, Chloe. Just calling to talk, I mean, if you aren't busy."

"Well, I..."

"Did you ever see The Changeling? Yeah... Um... Not the most special effects, but pretty creepy with the wheelchair and the well and that bouncing ball..."

"Clark, I really can't talk right now."

"Really? Because I think you have enough for your article. Why don't you just..."

"I have a caller on the line," she cut in.

He stared at the screen. It still said she was available. "Really?"

"Yeah. I just... put him on hold. And I can't leave him like that for long, so..."

"Good. Yeah. Can't keep your caller waiting," he said tersely.

"Nope. Later."

He listened to the dial tone and breathed deep.

"She lied," he breathed.

And she'd hung up. He pushed away from the table and stood. The chair fell with a clatter behind him. She'd just... He closed his eyes and took several more deep breaths. Maybe she had her reasons. Maybe she was still embarrassed about him hearing her last night. He could accept that. Maybe she was mad about him busting into her room and bending the door jamb. He could take that, too. He saw several of the smaller pictures around hers disappear, reappear. Maybe they were taking calls. This must be the prime time of night. Maybe she'd be getting a call soon. Some pervert breathing heavy as she moaned.

He could not take that.

He looked from the phone in his hand to the screen. His wallet was on the coffee table. He rushed to it and hastily pulled out his credit card, returning to the table. He deliberately picked up his chair and sat down. Two, ninety-nine a minute. Looked like a real deal to him.

He punched in her number. Not her cell. Her number as Lillian. He followed the moaning woman's voice that urged him to put in his credit card number. They sure were about overkill on these lines. Like the ladies on the commercial with their urgent squeals. What kind of guy found that hot?

The guys calling Chloe, obviously.

Well, if she wouldn't talk to him for free, maybe she would if he paid. There was a part of him that wondered what had gotten into him that he was paying three bucks a minute to talk to his best friend, but he shoved that part away. She wanted intent? He'd show her. And if she thought she'd been embarrassed before...

His stomach nearly plummeted to the floor as the line rang. He told himself this was Chloe. He was not nervous about talking to Chloe. In fact, she should be the one feeling nervous. She was about to get a surprise.

"This is Lillian," he heard in that same husky voice she'd put on.

He deepened his voice. "Hi, Lillian." He nearly laughed. This was a little funny, pulling one over on her. Her with her great instincts and her gut and her giant brain. "How are you tonight?"

"Mmm. Just fine, Honey. What's your name?"

"Uh... Tom," he said quickly. Did he have to think up a last name? No. He doubted these guys gave too much away. "Just call me Tom."

"Sure thing, Babe. Tell me about yourself, Tom?"

"Is that... uh... necessary?"

"Only if you want it to be. I just like to get to know a man first. I want to know what makes you tick, Tom. It makes it so much better when I slip inside your mind and make you come harder than you ever have."

His free hand pulled at the neck of his t-shirt. It was a little warm. Had he turned the heat on tonight? Maybe he should get the AC unit and... What was wrong with him? Heat never bothered him. "Well, Lillian," he said keeping his voice low. "I'm divorced twice. I live in Bowling Green, Kentucky. I manage a fast food chain. I'm 5'3, about 310..." He nearly laughed again, but caught himself. "Does that turn you on?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"You know what turns me on, Tom? That sexy voice of yours. It just pours over me like melted caramel."

"Damn it," he muttered.

"What's that, Sweetie?"

"Uh... Damn, Baby." How did she manage to bring it back to sexy? He narrowed his eyes at the screen that said "Lillian" was busy. She was crafty.

"Tell me your fantasies, Tom," he heard her whisper. "What do you really want?"

"I... Uh..." She had to stop with that voice. He couldn't think. It was too hot to think. "Hold on." He pulled off his shirt. He just needed to cool down. Even he could feel the heat sometimes.

"Is that rustling I heard? Tom, are you undressing?"

"I just... uh... took my shirt off."

"Mmm. I wish I could have done it for you. Slowly reveal your stomach, then that chest, lightly glance over your nipples with my hands. And then..."

He found himself standing. "Yeah?"

"What do you want me to do, Tom?"

"Wh-what do you want to do?"

She laughed. It was low and throaty and sent a jolt straight to his groin. "This is about you, Baby. I want to know your fantasies."

He needed to lay down. He moved toward the couch, trying to make words come. His mouth had dried up and his brain seemed to have stopped.

"Tom?"

"Just a sec," he croaked. He laid back on the couch. He was just a little woozy. Maybe it was the craziness of the whole thing. Or maybe it was that all the blood in his body was gathering in one place. So he wasn't over it yet. He would be. Just a few more minutes and he'd be cured.

"Don't tell me you're one of those guys, Tom."

"What guys?" he asked hoarsely.

"Those guys who don't know what they want." He heard a faint ripping sound. It sounded like paper. He smirked. Maybe she'd turned her magazine page too hard. He still couldn't believe it. She had no idea who she was talking to. "Those guys who don't live their life. The ones who choose to sit it out instead of embracing their desires."

He felt strangely offended. It sounded like her profile. It sounded like what she'd said to him at The Planet. It sounded like a cheap shot. "I know what I want," he said. "But I want to know what you want."

There was silence on the other end. It lingered. Good. He'd actually shut her up for once.

"Lillian, I want to know your fantasies."

"I... You..." She suddenly gave him that throaty laugh again. "This is about you, Baby. I just want to give you what you want."

"But what if what I want is to hear your desires?"

"I..."

He smiled. "How about it, Lillian? How would you like it to happen? What do you see in your mind as the hottest possible sex you could ever have?"

"Okay, Baby," she said. But her voice sounded tense. "I aim to please. Is that what pleases you? Knowing what your lover wants?"

He swallowed hard. "Yes," he breathed.

"Hmmm... I can see it now. You and I. We're walking into a luxurious hotel. You'd think we'd want to get a room, but we just pass that desk clerk. We have other plans." His free hand twitched on his stomach. "We move toward the bank of elevators their slick, glossy doors opening and closing around us as we wait. There's a right one. We'll take that one. The empty one. Where no one can see..."

"Go on," he breathed. At this point, he was done denying himself. He unbuttoned his jeans.

"I go in first and you follow, right on my heels. You seem nervous, somehow, but I'm not. I've been wanting this for so long... The doors close. You look hesitant, but I push you up against the wall."

"F*ck!" He could see it. He'd lived it. He slipped his hand inside.

"You look down at me through heavy-lidded eyes and your hands come up to my shoulders."

He brought his c*ck out of its confinement.

"You still look hesitant, but a part of you is ready. I feel it against my stomach. You're so big and hard. It almost makes me shy."

"I'm done being shy," he said, taking one long pull. "I push the emergency stop button."

He heard her gasp.

"I push back. I'm sick of your teasing. I could teach you a lesson."

"What kind of lesson?" he heard her ask. Her voice was shaky.

"An oral one, maybe. Are you wearing a skirt?"

"I... Yes," she breathed.

"Good. Because we don't have much time. I drop to my knees and run my hands up your thighs, taking your panties in my hands. They're red in my mind. I rip them away like they're made of nothing."

He heard a nervous laugh. "Maybe I should pay you, Tom."

"Why?" He stroked his c*ck harder. "He didn't want her backing out now. "Because I want to taste you? That's what I want. I want to run my fingers through those blonde curls and..."

"I'm a redhead," he heard.

"Uh... Maybe they just look blonde in my mind."

"Whatever you want," he heard her say weakly.

"Maybe I just want to forget everything and just feel you. Maybe I'm sick of responsibility and feeling like the weight of the world is on my shoulders. Maybe you can make it all better as I smell your arousal, feel its wetness on my tongue."

"Uh... I..."

"I want to wrap my lips around that clit. Lick and suck until you're screaming my name."

"Jesus!"

He tried to keep his voice steady as he stroked faster. His mind was growing hazy. "No. Not that name."

"Mmm, Clark..."

"Aw, Fuck! Chloe!"

He came back to earth and felt wetness. He looked down. He'd just come all over his own stomach. "Wow."

"Yeah. Wow's right." He sat up. Gone was that sleepy, sexy tone. She sounded shrill.

"Lillian?"

"Oh, why keep up the pretense, Clark?"

The blood drained from his face. He'd said her name. She'd said his name. "Chloe, I..."

"You sick... twisted... I can't believe you!"

"I only..."

"You only what? Wanted to laugh at me? Wanted to humiliate me?"

"No. I only..."

"The joke's on you, Clark. You just paid about sixty bucks and you're out one friend. I.. I don't think I can ever look at you again, speak to you..."

"Wait! Chloe! Don't..."

The dial tone was harsh in his ears. What had he done?

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Chapter Three