Hang Time

“Hello big boy this is 888 HOT BABE come tell Candy what you want, stud?”
“Um, no I don’t like that.”
“I’m so bad and you’re so strong. Little Candy is just a naughty girl who needs a spanking.”
“No! I don’t want a sub.”
“How dare you raise your voice to Mistress Candace—“
“Not a dominatrix, I don’t want that either. Please, I just want to talk to someone, someone real. Can’t you just be real?”
Silence. The sex line operator sighed.
“I’m not allowed.”
“What?”
“I’m in a one story warehouse in a craptastic strip mall in a sea of other sex workers and my shift manager is giving me the stink eye. I’m not allowed to be myself for another six and a half hours.”
“Oh, I guess I’ll go.”
“I can listen for real.”
“Really.”
“Of course, I know what it’s like to need to be heard, to just want to be heard, to not be lonely. I can’t be me but I can be here for you.”
—-
Marlene walked over to Russell with a jelly donut and a Diet Coke. “That one must be a record. Two hours. How do you do, bro,” Marlene said.
“I’m flippin’ exhausted. I always get the wackadoodles. I’d rather just get a string of horny dads,” Russell answered, rubbing the back his neck.
“Good work, Russell,” Ruth the shift manager said. “Maybe next week you can train some of the other operators on how to improve their hang time.”
Ruth patted his back and Marlena took a generous bite out of Russell’s donut as Russell turned back to his ringing phone.
“Hello big boy this is 888 HOT BABE come tell Candy what you want, stud?”

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