Wilde Thing

tight, her first physical response to a man tonight. One she welcomed, because it was Steve.

It was hot and stuffy in the small room, and she was certain he'd just raised her internal temperature into the triple digits. Reaching for her bottle of water, she took a quick drink to quench her suddenly parched throat before responding. 'I didn't think eleven-fifteen would ever get here. I can't tell you how glad I am to hear your voice.'

'Likewise. I guess it's been a long night, for both of us.' He paused, letting the subtle insinuation in his words- that he'd been equally anxious to talk to her-settle between them before he asked, 'What's it like there?'

'Claustrophobic,' she said, and laughed as her gaze swept the six-by-six area she'd been assigned for the evening. The walls were a dingy beige color, with no extras to bring a little brightness or cheer to the room. 'My so-called office is about the size of a janitor's closet. And it's so warm in here, it's almost stifling. But at least it's private.' And thank goodness for that, considering all the moaning, groaning, and heavy breathing she'd had to feign.

'Have you been able to talk to any of the other operators?'

'Only briefly before I started my shift and during my ten-minute break.' Kicking off her sandals, she propped her feet up on the table and wiggled her toes in front of the small handheld fan she'd set on the table to stir up the air in the room. Another thirty-five minutes of idle chitchat with Steve, and her shift was over, she thought gratefully. 'Roxanne wasn't here tonight, but I introduced myself to a few other girls.'

'That's a good start.' Approval resonated in his tone. 'Any mention of Valerie yet?'

'No, and there hasn't been an opportune time to bring her up, either.' She sighed, hoping it wouldn't take more than a few evenings for her coworkers to warm up enough to give her the answers she sought, or for her employer to extend an invitation to The Ultimate Fantasy private parties.

'Don't be so hard on yourself. It's only your first night,' he said, as if reading her mind. 'So, how has it been with the callers?' His question was direct and undeniably curious.

She bit her lower lip, undecided whether or not she wanted to share the sordid details with a man who was the epitome of sexuality. A gorgeous, virile man who was her personal fantasy in every way. 'You want the truth?'

'Sweetheart,' he drawled smoothly, 'I always want the truth.'

And no faking anything. He'd made that abundantly clear, too. The man was a stickler for honesty and took a person's integrity very seriously. They were qualities she herself appreciated in return.

Still, she fudged with her response, which wasn't a lie at all. 'Well, let me put it this way, being a phone sex operator is definitely not my cuppa tea.'

'Maybe it all depends on getting the right caller on the phone,' he suggested, a mischievous note lacing his low, mellow baritone.

A caller like me, his voice implied. She silently admitted that he had a very valid point.

'What have your clients requested tonight?' he persisted.

Obviously, he saw through her attempt to evade the issue with her simple and pat comment, and he wasn't about to let her off so easily. The rogue. 'You don't want to know the nitty-gritty details.'

'Sure I do,' he murmured huskily, and she shivered at his assertive and very insistent behavior.

The man was ruthless and shameless, and she was smart enough to know he wouldn't let the subject die until he got whatever he wanted from her. And in this case, he wanted her to spill all the provocative details of her new job.

'You promise to still respect me after I tell you the kind of fantasies I fulfilled for other men?'

He chuckled, low and deep, though the sound was oddly strained. 'Of course I will.'

Exhaling a slow breath, she recalled the fairly tame and normal fantasies she'd performed, because the others were too crude, perverted, and bizarre for her to repeat out loud. 'I had a few straightforward calls from men who were just interested in a quick verbal exchange simulating a common sex act. A few requested blow jobs, and one caller asked me to pretend I was a virgin, which was… different, since it's been a long while since I've been one,' she said wryly, and shook her head. 'Some callers were downright lewd, and I used words, descriptions, and phrases that would make my parents roll over in their graves.'

'I'm sure they forgive you,' he said, a definite hint of humor in his voice.

She smiled, and relaxed enough to enjoy their amusing conversation. 'Another caller told me that he wanted me to wear something sexy, then do a striptease for him over the phone.'

'And what did you wear for him?'

'A slinky, barely-there black dress and high heels. And beneath it, black lace stockings, garters, a skimpy bra, and no panties. Isn't that every man's fantasy?'

'Personally, I prefer red on a woman, but I'm sure you made your caller very happy.'

She couldn't stop the silly grin that curved her lips. 'Judging by his moans and groans, I think he got his money's worth.'

'Undoubtedly.' His chuckle warmed her deep inside, as did their fun, playful repartee. 'Did any of tonight's calls turn you on?'

His abrupt switch to a more intimate discussion startled her, but she replied without hesitation. 'No,' she said, and could have sworn she heard him exhale a relieved stream of breath. 'I didn't know any of those men, and the exchange was mechanical, detached, and, well, very impersonal.' This job and the men she talked to were a means to an end for her, a way of locating information on her cousin, nothing more.

'Then let's see if I can change that and be the one to turn you on tonight.'

She suddenly felt hot and anxious with a delicious, undeniable kind of need. Oh, she knew he could accomplish the task of turning her on, far too easily. His silky bedroom voice had already aroused her, making her crave the taste and feel of his mouth on hers, and his slow, knowing hands stroking her bare skin… making her body burn and come alive for him with just a touch.

She crossed her ankles and squeezed her thighs together to try and quell the sweet ache of anticipation gathering below. What Steve was proposing didn't include any of that sensual physical contact, just words. Erotic, provocative words and naughty suggestions designed to stimulate and thrill. A fun, illicit mind game that would tantalize and tease both of them. A game she wanted to play with him, because he was ultimately the man she desired and fantasized about.

And unlike her previous callers, the idea of indulging in mental foreplay with Steve excited her.

'Tell me… what are you really wearing tonight?' he asked.

In reality, she was dressed casually, in nothing quite so daring or indecent as what she'd described to her earlier caller to fulfill his request. She debated whether to come up with another risque outfit, something red and racy to rev up Steve's libido, but decided she'd forgo any frills when it came to their first foray into phone sex. Their chemistry and attraction was potent enough without adding any extra props.

She touched her fingers to the base of her throat, where her skin was slick with a light sheen of perspiration and her pulse beat erratically. 'I'm wearing a light cotton blouse and a miniskirt. I told you it was hot in here, and I've clipped up my hair so it's off my neck, but it's not helping much to keep me cool,' she said, giving him a good dose of visual imagery. 'The receptionist is selling small handheld water-misting fans to the employees, and she's making a damn good profit at it, too,' she grumbled good-naturedly.

His lazy laughter drifted through the phone lines, the sexy vibrations of that masculine sound touching tender, secret places within her.

'I take it you bought one of those fans?' he asked.

'Yeah.' Said battery powered minifan was currently sitting on the table, doing its best to create a breeze her way, albeit a warm, recycled one. 'Every so often I'll spritz my face, just to keep my skin cool.'

'We'll have to think of a way to put that fan to even better use.' His voice was positively wicked, impenitently so, and husky with promise. 'Open your blouse for me so that I can see your breasts. For real.'

His bold command gave her a jolt of momentary confusion, but there was no mistaking what he was asking. He didn't want her to pretend the action, didn't want her to use just verbal description to create a mental picture for him.

He wanted the real thing.

Her heart beat an unsteady rhythm against her chest. While she had absolutely no qualms about getting into his request, actually stripping off her clothes and openly enacting his fantasy was another thing altogether. Besides,