I sat at the tiny desk in my bedroom, waiting for the phone to ring. As my fingers hovered just above the handset, I glanced at the clock. It was now ten. Late enough for him to call.

Beyond my closed door, Leah, my roommate, was getting ready for bed; I recognized her familiar steps moving along the short hallway toward the bathroom. She'd hear the phone, probably wonder who was calling this time of night. if I answered it right away, I doubted she'd complain tomorrow morning.

But if he waited much longer...

Gnawing at the inside of my bottom lip, I rolled my shoulders in an attempt to work the tension from my muscles. I'd been keyed up, with anxious butterflies flitting around my stomach since I'd run into Nelson in town that afternoon. It had been a glorious late spring Sunday, and I was strolling about on my own, mostly window shopping, when he stepped out of a store almost directly in front of me.

"Joni!" he said, his face brightening. "I haven't seen you in ages. How are you?"

I glanced over his shoulder, waiting for his wife to appear, but it soon became evident that he was alone as well. "I'm fine, Nelson. And it's great to see you!" It was all I could do not to give my dark curls a nervous pat. 

Though I was twenty and had been living in an apartment for almost a year, it still seemed strange to call my friend's father by his first name. It was something he'd insisted upon once I turned eighteen and graduated high school. "You're a young woman now," he'd pointed out. "And when you call me Mister, it makes me feel old."

As Nelson and I stood on that sidewalk in town, I gazed up at him with a shy smile. He certainly didn't look old. His hair was still dark blond, and he seemed even taller than I remembered. Like me, he was in his Sunday best; I attended the Methodist church, while he was a Presbyterian. Though our town wasn't all that large, we didn't have many opportunities to run into each other. Not since Martha, his daughter and my friend from school, had married and moved away.

When I asked about her, he said, "She's doing well. We saw her at Easter." His gaze grew almost wistful. "The house isn't the same without her, though. Sometimes, I still expect to come home and find you two bounding down the steps, giggling and carrying on."

"We were ridiculous." I shook my head in mild embarrassment. 

"No, you were lovely girls. And you..." His stare swept over me only briefly, yet it had an almost tangible force. "You've grown into a lovely young woman."

My cheeks flushed with pleasure at his compliment, and I resisted the urge to tell him how handsome I thought he was. Of course, I knew that wasn't appropriate, for he was married and so much older. 

As we talked about our jobs, and he asked how I liked secretarial work (I lied and said I liked it fine), I tried to think of some way we could remain in touch. Again, that word hammered in my head: inappropriate, inappropriate. But when Nelson placed a hand on my arm and said it was good to see me, I began rummaging through my handbag. 

"Here, let me give you my number," I said. I couldn't bear to meet his eyes and observe his reaction, so I focused on locating a pen and small notebook among the myriad other items in my bag. 

"That would be great, Joni."

Was I imagining the eagerness in his voice? Probably. To my mortification, I noticed I was shaking while jotting down my number. It made my handwriting barely legible. 

Nelson took the paper from me, his fingers grazing mine in the process. Studying my scribbles, he recited my number aloud, and I quickly nodded. 

"I know Martha will be glad to have this," he said. "Next time I talk to her..."

"It's for you, too," I blurted out before I could stop myself. Nelson lifted his eyebrows, his surprise clear. My face reddened even more as I desperately tried to excuse my behavior. "I mean," I hurried on, "if you have news and need to reach me."

He looked from me to the number in his hand, and then back to me again, his blue eyes filled with something like calculation. When he leaned closer, I almost stepped back, for the gesture was unexpectedly intimate. 

"How about tonight?" he murmured. "Can I reach you then?"

His voice was as suggestive as an illicit caress, and I shivered in response. "Of course." I tried to sound breezy, utterly nonchalant, but I suspected Nelson well understood the effect he had on me.

"It might be a bit late," he said, "after the wife goes to bed. Is that alright?"

Again, I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Between my thighs, a fierce throb had begun. 

Nelson carefully folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket. "We'll talk soon, Joni." He said it like a promise. Or maybe a warning.

I managed an awkward goodbye before walking away from him. My face felt unbearably hot, and I knew my panties were wet. What had I just done? Pressing a palm to my cheek, I strode down the sidewalk on unsteady feet. All the while, I prayed he wasn't watching me. 

Back in my apartment, I'd been so restless, pacing the floors, that even Leah had noticed and commented on it. After that, I shut myself in my room to wait. 

It was now five minutes after ten. When I heard Leah's bedroom door softly close, my nervousness ratcheted up another level. What if he didn't call for another hour? What if he woke up my roommate? How would I explain it to her—

The phone's shrill ring, though expected, made me violently startle. I scrambled to answer it, nearly dropping the handset as I lifted it to my ear. "Hello," I said in a voice just above a whisper.

"Hello, Joni," Nelson replied quietly. "I hope it's not too late to call."

"It isn't," I rushed to assure him. "My roommate's just gone to bed."

"Good." I was certain I heard him take a deep drag on a cigarette. "How do you like being on your own? You must enjoy the freedom."

"It's fine." Leaning back, I winced at the sound of my old chair creaking. "But since Mom and Dad live just across town, I see them often."

I expected Nelson to ask about my parents. Instead, he surprised me by saying, "And do you see any men?"

"Not many," I stammered, caught off guard by his blunt question. "Not often."

He laughed low and soft. "So you're a good girl then."

"I... I try to be." I felt as if I were flailing helplessly in our conversation. Was Nelson mocking me? Did he think I was foolish for suggesting that he call?

"Yet you gave me your number today." His sigh, faint but audible, carried to me over the line. "Why, Joni? What did you expect out of this?"

My fingers tightened around the phone. I had no answer for him, at least not one I could admit.

"You know I'm married," he went on, sounding completely at ease. "You know I'm your father's age. So you understand I can't show up at your door with flowers."

"I know that." Growing distress edged my words.

"I think I understand why you did it. I think..." He released a soft moan that made my legs involuntarily part. "You realize I don't expect you to be a good girl. Talking to me like this, you can be as bad as you want."

Closing my eyes, I fought back my own moan. "Nelson." I made his name a plea.

"What are you wearing right now, sweetheart?"

Glancing downward, I said, "My nightgown?"

He laughed again. "You don't sound too confident about that. Are you sure you're not naked?"

"No!" I practically squealed, then chastised myself for being too loud. 

"Are you in bed?"

His question made my breathing quicken. "I'm sitting at my desk."

"Go lie down if the phone will reach."

I stood, reeling from a rush of dizziness. Placing the phone on the floor near my bed, I moved to obey Nelson's command. The cord stretched but didn't draw taut. He must have heard me climbing under the covers; my mattress's bedsprings squeaked when I lay down. The small desk lamp didn't entirely chase away my room's shadows, and I was grateful to feel somewhat hidden. 

"I haven't stopped thinking about you since we saw each other today," Nelson confessed. "I imagined how those gorgeous red lips of yours would feel on mine."

I released a needy whimper as the ache between my thighs intensified. 

"Of course, I imagined other things, too," he continued. "Dirtier things."

I knew it was wrong, and shamefully so, for a married man to be talking to me like this. It made me feel dirty, even sinful, yet that didn't stop me from cupping my breast through my nightgown and asking, "What else did you imagine?"

I could hear him breathing a little faster, too. "I imagined how those pretty lips would feel wrapped around my cock."

Though my gasp sounded overdramatic, my shock was genuine. 

"Remember, Joni, you're not a good girl," he said. "Not with me. Now, I want you to lift up that nightgown and slip a hand into your panties."

"I... oh God, I shouldn't." My arousal was a feral creature I now grappled with. My attempt to subdue it was halfhearted at best, for I wanted to do exactly what Nelson said.

"Go on," he gently insisted. "I want you to touch yourself."

While following his instruction, I writhed beneath the weight of my growing arousal. "I'm... I'm touching myself now," I revealed just before releasing a soft cry.

"Oh, I love that. Is your cunt nice and wet for me, baby?"

I flinched at his obscene talk, yet my fingers kept rubbing my clitoris. It was swollen, its sensitivity increasing by the second. "I'm sopping wet. Nelson, I need..." I abruptly fell silent, afraid to give voice to my desire.

"What do you need?" he asked through a blatantly sexual groan. "Tell me what you're aching for." 

A brief silence stretched between us, interrupted only by our heavy breathing.

"Go on and admit what you want," Nelson pressed. "Let me know what a slut you are, Joni."

Again, I gasped, and a flame of indignation ignited within me. How dare you call me that? I started to snap.

But another part of me, deeper and far more hidden, longed to be utterly free and wanton. I yearned to reveal filthy fantasies I'd never dared to indulge even in my imagination.

"I want you to fuck me," I told Nelson in a choked voice. It was as if the words had been scraped from my throat.

He made a guttural noise, a sound of sheer need. "I'd give anything to be inside you right now! You've gotten me so hard." I heard a faint rustling, followed by a groan. "I have my cock out. Does that excite you?"

"God, yes!" My hips had begun a wild bucking beneath the covers. As I held the phone to my ear with one hand, I used my other hand to massage my slick pearl. I could feel my climax building. I imagined a staircase within me, winding down to my core; rapturous pleasure had begun its descent into my depths. "I'm getting close!" My voice quaked along with my body.

"You love doing this to a married man, don't you?" 

Though Nelson's tone was mild, the accusation still stung. 

"No," I weakly replied. 

My denial made him laugh. "Of course you do. You love knowing I'm so wild to fuck you that I'd break every vow I've made. I'm dying to give you this rock-hard cock." He was practically panting, and I imagined him fervently masturbating. "I bet your cunt would feel so tight all around me!"

I was desperate to come, shaking and moaning, my face feverishly hot. Nelson's words were like kindling tossed upon a fire. "I'm almost there! Please!" Though I held the key to my release, I begged Nelson to let me use it.

"I want you to be a dirty little whore," he demanded. "Just for me."

I bit back a cry as my spine arched. My fingers moved relentlessly over my flesh, summoning forth an intensely powerful orgasm. 

"Ah, you're coming so hard you can barely breathe!" Nelson murmured. "I know you look so fucking gorgeous right now. A beautiful harlot with her legs spread wide."

His voice made me succumb to a fresh wave of spasms. If he'd been inside me at that moment, he surely would have felt each contraction. 

"I'm gonna come for you!" Nelson growled. Holding my breath, I swore I could hear his hand furiously pumping away. "Joni, I want to hear you say it." He now sounded pleading. "Oh God, baby, tell me just what you are!"

At that moment, I realized I held the key to his pleasure as well. "I'm your filthy slut," I said, putting emphasis on each word. "I want to feel you deep inside me, Nelson. And I want to feel your cock in my mouth." I stumbled a little over that last part, as I'd never uttered anything so lewd. 

Nelson must have understood the effort it took for me to say those things, for he released an appreciative moan. "That's a good girl! You've made me... ah, fuck!" 

I lay completely still, my fingers aching from gripping the phone so hard. Listening to him climax resurrected my need. How I wanted to see his face right then! He sounded so out of control, almost helpless. Each whimper and grunt, each sharp intake of breath, caused me to throb between my thighs.

I was still flushed, my pulse beating insistently beneath my skin, when he said, "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

I sensed the real meaning behind his question: Are you upset? Did I go too far?

With a smile in my voice, I replied, "I'm perfect."

"You certainly are." He took a deep breath and let it out as a satisfied sigh. "Can I call you again?"

Staring up at the ceiling, I mentally scrabbled for the right answer. Did I want him to call again? Absolutely. But I didn't want to be obvious about it. "Um..." I hesitated, expecting him to fill the silence, yet he waited me out. "How about Thursday?" I finally offered. It wasn't as if there was anything special about Thursday; I simply wanted an appropriate time to pass before we resumed doing... whatever this was. Then I realized the insanity of that thought, for there was nothing appropriate about what had just occurred.

"Thursday it is, same time." Nelson sounded relaxed now, almost drowsy. "Hope I didn't keep you up too late."

My smile widened to a grin. "It's only a little past my bedtime."

"Then I'll let you get to sleep." His tone dropped, growing seductive even as he wished me good night. "Sweet dreams, dirty girl."