An overcast sky hung above Willow as she emerged from her office building's maintenance stairwell and stepped onto the roof. She didn't notice the grey, gloomy clouds, though. Even before she had reached the top, her full attention was on the cell phone having already turned it back on. It had just finished booting up, finding its signal by the time she shut the door behind her.
The main screen appeared: “Six missed calls. Caller Unknown.”
There was no way to call him back. She glared at the phone as if it was mocking her. “Damn it.”
As she paced around the rooftop she continued to alternately curse toward the screen and at herself.
Did she even want to call him back?
The decision was made for her when the phone suddenly began to ring in her hands. She hesitated, allowing herself three rings to gather her thoughts before answering. “Hello?”
“Hello,” the man said. He paused then added, “I’m relieved you answered. I admit… I wasn’t sure you would ever do so again.”
Willow nodded without saying anything, just listening intently to the sound of his voice.
He continued, “I made a mistake the last time we spoke.”
Looking up and towards the distance, she nodded again, noting the first hint of honest remorse in the man’s voice. It was just a slight crack in his cool, confident veneer, practically a sliver, but she stabbed at it quickly. “You know my name.”
Another pause, then he said, “It's a lovely name..."
"I don't care what you think about my name," she snapped, surprising herself.
He seemed taken aback, as well, hesitating before explaining, "I overheard your colleague say it when you left the line open. I apologize for eavesdropping.”
Restlessly shifting on her feet, her eyes searched aside recalling the other day. Yes, that would make sense. A mild sense of relief washed through her, though she still considered that he could be lying.
“I swear,” he continued as if reading her mind, “all I know is your first name. All I know of you is from our conversations. I’ll never lie to you about that. I’ll never lie to you about anything.”
Drips of earnestness seeped into his speech. It sounded so strange for her to hear but she lapped at them like the dry ground welcomes rain, giving her life.
“You said my name. I thought names weren’t important,” she said.
Once more, there was a prolonged pause. He was being careful. When he spoke, a tone of appreciation and understanding tempered his voice further, “You’re right. I did say that.”
Willow firmed her lower lip, remaining silent. She wanted more.
“I… was admittedly, just so caught up by your voice, your words that night,” he continued. “You were so… insistent and assured. Your thoughts and feelings just swept over me. It was more than I had ever expected from you.”
She frowned, wondering if he had any expectations of a woman like her.
He continued, “I could see what you were seeing. Feel what you were feeling. It was vivid and intimate. Just… amazing. I became greedy and suddenly was overcome with wanting everything you had to offer… and I said your name.”
She closed her eyes, the sound of him uttering her name still resoundingly clear in her head.
“I took more than you were willing to give that night. More than I had a right to,” he said. “I apologize.”
Willow stood on the rooftop suddenly aware that she had been holding her breath. She glanced around aimlessly as she exhaled a steady stream of air from her rounded lips, then swayed as she resumed breathing unsteadily.
“I have no right to expect you to continue with this,” he said, “but if we were to do so, the mistake won’t happen again.”
Still breathing deeply, Willow washed her tongue along the inside of her cheek as she gathered her thoughts. As she swept her hand back through her hair, it was only then she realized it had begun to rain, a light shower. A hard stare suddenly gripped her, fixing her eyes straight ahead. Finally, firming her jaw, she said, “I want to be able to call you.”
The man paused.
“Did you hear me?” she prodded.
“Yes,” he answered swiftly. “I can do something about that.”
Willow blinked as flecks of rain splashed on her cheeks and speckled her glasses. “Good. Then the next time we talk, it’s only when I call you. You don’t call me any more till then. If you do, I won't answer. I promise you that.”
“I... understand.”
Willow hung up abruptly. Her hands were shaking while her heart felt as if it would rupture through her chest. She had trouble remembering where she was. She had trouble remembering who she was.
Huffing one last breath, she looked up towards the sky as the cool rain fell upon her.
Later, she attempted to dry herself off in the washroom, but was too antsy and distracted to bother anymore after a few minutes.
“Whatever,” she muttered.
The moment she strode into the office, she was already prepared to offer some lame excuse as to why she was wet. It turned out that no one noticed as all eyes were focused on a more pressing concern.
She had arrived just in time to see Lyssa carrying her belongings in a box while being escorted from her desk by two security guards. Dana and the managers stood grimly by the conference room door watching her leave.
While Willow stood in stunned silence like everyone else as Lyssa walked down the aisle towards her and the exit, Randall sidled up to her and whispered, “They called Shemar at home to tell him, poor guy.”
Willow continued to watch the woman carefully but nodded.
He continued with a sly grin, “You know, I heard it was because Lyssa just kept pushing the envelope that they eventually got caught. Gotta give props to a lady who just goes for it.”
As Lyssa approached them, Willow stared intently at her. There was one question she felt compelled to ask her but chose to remain silent.
Just as the fired staff member passed her and turned towards the exit, she caught the defiant gleam in Lyssa’s narrowed eyes and the unremorseful edge on her red lips.
“By the way, Willy,” Randall asked, leaning close to her ear, “did you know you’re all wet?”
--0--
In the evening, Willow entered her bedroom after having taken a shower, wearing her robe. As she stood towelling down her hair, she flipped through the pages of her sketchbook as it lay on her bed. She was feeling uneasy about the progression of the images, the way they were evolving in her mind.
Just then, an unfamiliar, soft 'Ding' turned her ear. She frowned. Firstly checking her cell phone and finding no notifications, she looked at the crimson phone.
To her surprise, instead of seeing just an empty screen, a small blue phone icon had appeared: “Contacts”. She dropped her towel aside and gnawed at her lower lip for a second before tapping the icon with her finger. There was only one listing and it just appeared as a line of hashtags: “########”.
Again she hesitated but finally tapped the phone again.
After two rings, the man answered. “Hello.”
“Hi.”
“I see that you found the small gift you had requested.”
“Yes. I did.” She stopped short of thanking him.
“Good. I’m glad it worked, and I’m glad you called.”
Willow tamped down on any feelings of satisfaction with the small gesture, simply nodding. She squeezed the phone a little tighter as she held it. Resolved to remain focused and mindful, she concentrated on steadying her breaths.
Filling the audible void, he asked, “Since you called, is there anything else that you want at this time?”
Willow ran through a mental list of questions and comments. Before she flustered herself, she said, “If I were to ask you for a picture of yourself, would you send one to me?”
“You mean of my face?” he said with a sly chuckle.
She gathered what he was implying and rolled her eyes while shaking her head. “Yes, your face.”
“Yes,” he said without further hesitation. “Is that what you want? I can do so right now...”
“No. Don't,” she interrupted. No, that's not what she wanted. Not now.
“Something else, then?” he asked, prodding her gently during another extended pause.
“You said everything you know about me has been from our conversations,” she said.
“I did. Yes, it's true,” he answered.
“Tell me what you know of me.”
A soft chuckle filtered through the line.
“I know you're not seeking affirmation or assurance. I can certainly go on describing how desirable you are. How beguiling and enthralling you are. How beautiful and sexy you are,” he said, sounding as if he spoke through stern, curled lips. “But you're not looking to be flattered or fluffed. You would think it hollow and it would leave a sour taste in your mouth. You would resent every word I spoke.”
Willow squeezed the phone tight and sucked in her lips as he picked her apart.
He concluded, “I'd be committing a grave mistake if I did that.”
She nodded to herself. He was right. It would have ended with her blowing him off and hanging up.
“That's not what you want, either,” he said.
“No,” she said, “it's not.”
His tone softened. “So, please, tell me what is, at this moment, that you want?”
Willow took a moment to sift through her thoughts and feelings carefully. Carried by the growing pressure of her beating heart, she asked, “Are you in your bedroom?”
“I am.”
“Take off your clothes,” she said, the conviction in her tone much more evident than the other evening.
While he said nothing in reply, she knew he was doing as she asked, hearing him set down his phone and the soft rustling of garments being removed. While she waited, she undid the sash of her robe. It parted down the middle exposing a path of white flesh from her neck down between her breasts and past her belly to the compactly trimmed tuft of curly auburn hairs at her crotch.
“What would you have me do next?” he asked.
“Get on the bed. Lie down.”
She listened to the man inhale a satisfying, deep breath as he settled into his bed. “Will you be joining me?”
“Don't,” she interrupted. “Don't talk.”
She climbed onto her bed, pushing aside her open sketchbook. Kneeling on the blankets facing the headboard, she spread her knees. It only took a moment for her imagination to come alight, picturing him beneath her, looking up at her with hungry eyes.
“Tell me you feel me straddling you,” she asked.
“I do,” he breathed.
“Touch me.”
She could feel his hands massaging upward along her thighs. Disrobing, she swept back her hair, draping it around her shoulders and down her back, the cool, damp strands sticking to her warm skin. She curled her palms around her breasts, pushing them together and sighed.
Sensing the man's anticipation for her next instruction, she pinched the edge of her lower lip with her teeth and said, “I want to feel your face between my legs. I want you to lick and suck on my pussy lips.”
There was an audible drawing of breath through clenched teeth on the other end of the line. “My pleasure,” he said.
For the next few minutes, as she listened to his lascivious breaths and hums of satisfaction, Willow imagined his hands on her, gripping her ass, pulling her crotch into his face as he prodded and pasted her with his tongue. She reached for a pillow and pressed it between her thighs as she rolled her hips.
“Like that,” she coached. “More.”
She felt his lips sucking on her quivering, hardening nub, his tongue bullying its way deeper between her folds with each bold lick. All the while, her eyes remained open wide as if watching the moment unfold right in front of her.
“Fuck me,” she groaned, her voice almost unrecognizable to her ears.
Willow could see him holding his engorged cock, choking it as he pumped it with a stern fist. She leaned forward, her free hand grabbing the top of the headboard for support as she ploughed her hips back and forth, crushing the pillow into the mattress. She gasped and moaned through her teeth, feeling the strain in her neck and belly as her entire upper body glowed pink and red.
On the other end, there came raspy growls through heavy, relentless breathing. “Yes,” he said with a husky gasp. “Beautiful. So beautiful.”
The words echoed through her brain as her head listed aside. As she gasped heavily, her eyes set upon her sketchbook, reaching for the images she had drawn and for the memories dredged up by them.
During their passionate, vocal throes, he refrained from uttering her name. Willow resisted the urge to call him by another, the name strangled in her throat.
Willow felt his cock thrusting within her, throbbing, expanding in her tight, wet hole. Her stomach tightened as the roll of her hips intensified, each long, undulating stroke ending with a crisp snap of her pelvis.
She heard the man sucking for air through what she pictured as a satisfied sneer curling his lips. His eyes were wide, ensnared in the vision of her over him, fucking him, taking his cock for her pleasure.
“Uhh!” he shuddered and announcing his climax with a deep, extended, rattling groan followed instantly.
The knuckles of Willow’s hand gripping the headboard were white. Overcome, she pulled her eyes away from her sketchbook and they finally fell shut, the lids pinching out tears. As she dipped her chin down to her chest, she held her breath. Her whole body trembled as she grasped the delicious anticipation for two seconds longer, before slamming the phone down into the bed, throwing her head back with a guttural groan and soaking the thrashed pillow between her legs with her rushing orgasm.
“Unn!” she gasped and gulped her chest heaving. “Oh, God. Oh, my God.”
She opened her eyes, her nose still pointed upward towards where the wall met the ceiling, swaying unsteadily on the bed. Finally, she released the headboard and crumpled forward, exhausted and spent, curling down over her pillows before rolling onto her side. Her damp hair clung to her skin while her face which was coated with a sheen of perspiration. She blinked, the side of her head sinking into the soft sheets as she recovered. Eventually, she weakly reached out and retrieved the phone.
“That was wonderful,” the man said with a resounding sigh.
She needed to moisten her parched lips before replying, “I’ll call again.”
She hung up.
Still with the damp pillow clutched between her legs, she dragged her hands wearily down her face. She glanced over to the sketchbook, then shoved it off the bed before eventually falling asleep.
