To the public, Harper Miller is nothing more than a mild mannered, socially awkward English professor with a slight stutter and some control issues. She knows her public persona isn’t glamorous, but she doesn’t care if people see her as milquetoast. She prefers it that way because it means no one would ever suspect her secret.
Harper never intended to run a phone sex line long term. It was meant to help her pay off her student loans before landing a job with a decent paycheck. Of course, Harper never intended to fall for a client either. After talking to a caller that goes by Em for six months, Harper can admit she’s thoroughly smitten, even though her mystery woman may not be who she seems.
What happens when Em’s true identity is discovered? Will Harper be able to look past old grievances for a shot at true love?
Long black fingernails tapped nervously against slate gray countertops. This is humiliating, Macy thought to herself. Maybe I should just crawl into a hole and die instead.
Macy slowly extracted the slip of paper she’d received from her friend Nora and stared at the phone number. Apparently, the worker on the other end of the phone was highly recommended.
A sex line. Was she really that desperate for connection? Nora seemed to think it would help her release some steam, and she usually gave spot on advice. But still.
Nora had given her the card nearly a month ago, but Macy had been too proud to consider it at the time. She’d crumpled it into her clutch, thanking Nora but assuring her that it was unnecessary. But damn it all if she wasn’t feeling exceptionally horny and lonely at the moment.
She stood from her kitchen table and moved towards her wine cabinet. She poured herself a generous glass of red and took some deep gulps before sitting down and picking up the card again. She scanned it for the operating hours and saw that the line was currently open. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try it at least once. If she didn’t like the experience, she could just hang up or never call again. It’s low risk, Nora had told her, I promise you won’t regret it.
She took out her iPhone and typed in the number before she could change her mind. She heard a few rings before an automated voice asked for her credit card number. She entered it and waited with bated breath for a human to answer.
“You’ve reached Luna,” a sultry voice purred. “How can I please you tonight?”
Macy clenched her jaw, panic rising in her gut. Say something, damn it!
“Hello?” the posh voice repeated. “Is anyone there?”
“Hi,” Macy replied. No other words came. She cursed herself for not practicing an opening line before calling.
“Hi, yourself,” Luna replied, her voice laced with amusement. “I’m glad you didn’t hang up. What should I call you, sweet thing?”
Macy hesitated for a moment. Should she give her real name? Was that something people normally did? There was no way the operator’s real name was actually Luna. Macy decided it was best to go with an alias. “Uh, Em. You can call me Em.” She cringed internally. Clever.
“Em,” Luna repeated slowly. “I like that. Is this your first time calling a line like this, Em?”
Macy gave an embarrassed sigh, scrubbing her hand over her face. “Is it that obvious?”
The replying voice was teasing, but non-judgmental. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, sweetheart. I just need to know, are you ready to have some fun?”
“That would be fucking amazing,” Macy sighed, slumping against the kitchen chair.
“Perfect. Amazing fucks are my specialty.”
