voicemails ⋙ h.s

chapter six

Harry pushed the mahogany door open, stepping into the abode that he shared with his girlfriend, only to perceive the shrill, yet monotonous ringing sound of the telephone.

The incomplete piece of art that his paint-stained hands were holding onto, was subjected to free fall as he rushed towards the device, lifting it up, while hoping to hear his girlfriend's melodious tone, that seemed to brighten up his darkest of days.

"Julie!" He breathed, resting one of his palms on the wall adjacent to him, to keep him from falling down after the hysteric sprint he made, across his own house.

"Well, you made it on time! I hope you didn't hurt yourself while leaping towards the phone," the feminine voice chuckled, in a playful manner.

"You know me so well. I didn't, though," Harry answered. "How are you? What are you up to?"

Julie exhaled deeply. "Tired. Lonely. I miss you."

"I miss you too, love. Just a few more days, and we'll reunite again!" Harry chirped. "God, it feels like forever."

There was a brief, two-second pause, before Julie's baritone transformed into something more... lascivious. "You know what I'm doing, babe?"

"No.." Harry's tongue grazed his lower lip, while his tone lowered to almost whispers. "What are you doing?"

"I'm..." She paused again, only to let a shivery breath, followed by a soft moan escape through her lips. "Touching myself... while thinking about you."

Harry's lips parted to the slightest bit at the thought of it — while his already aroused member felt uncomfortable in his pants.

Harry plopped down onto the couch next to the little table that the telephone was placed on, unbuttoning a couple buttons of his shirt.

"Where are you touching yourself, love?"

"Where do you want me to?" Another moan — this time, louder. "Tell me what you want me to do, Harry."

For a second or two, Harry couldn't believe his ears — the very girl who had been avoiding him for the past couple years, and would touch anybody else but her boyfriend, was now engaging herself in a phone-sex, with him.

Well, only because this Julie wasn't his girlfriend — but of course, he didn't know that.

And in case you might be wondering what the real Julie was doing — she most definitely was sleeping with Eli, and was beyond relieved to have finally detached herself from Harry — at least, for about two weeks.

She'd just tell Harry that she didn't know their telephone number, or that her phone got damaged, or something like that — she was yet to think of an excuse.

Back to the current scene, it had been a little over a couple minutes since the two had begun the erotic chapter of their phone call.

While Harry's pants lay on the floor, one of his hands held onto the receiver while the other obeyed whatever the woman on the phone ordered to do.

It moved up, and down his shaft, sending overwhelming currents of pleasure down his muscular frame.

The once-silent room was filled with distinct, loud moans that chanted Julie's name over, and over again, like a mantra.

aOn the other hand, Julie too, was having a whale of a time. While her hands caressed her feminine parts just like Harry had asked her to do, her teeth dug into her tinted-crimson lower lip, trying to suppress the moans that nonetheless, found their way out from the back of her throat.

Both of their chests rose and fell, as they squirmed in their seats — eyes closed, imagining one another, while performing the sexual act.

"I— Julie, I'm close," Harry spoke, which merely came out as whispers.

"So am I, babe— ah! Oh, my God!" the girl squealed, as a warm feeling arose in her abdomen, before she felt herself hit the climax.

Harry's tumultuous wail reverberated around the room, and through the phone, his toes curling and uncurling, as he felt himself release.

However, just as he did so, out of the blue, his girlfriend's stark naked image in his head was replaced by some other lady's — Heather Wallace.

The very fact that somewhat, made him feel unsettled, at once.

Why Heather, out of all the girls he knew?

Despite of trying really hard, even a couple minutes after the incident, he couldn't flush the bare image of Miss Wallace out of his mind. They were still on the phone, while both of them cleaned themselves up.

"I think we should do that again, some other day," Julie whispered into the speaker, and the thought of it already started arousing her.

"Hmm. We should," Harry answered.

"Maybe later, tonight. Or tomorrow," the lassie suggested.

"Right. Yeah." Because of the whole Heather Wallace incident, Harry was still disturbed. He sounded absentminded, and Julie's ears were too sharp to let that go unnoticed.

"Is everything okay, Harry? You sound funny."

"I- yeah, I'm sorry. I just.. I'm just a little exhausted," the painter lied, knowing that he couldn't unveil the factual reason to his girlfriend. Not in a million years.

"Aw, maybe you should get some sleep. We'll continue this later," she answered, to which, Harry hummed in response.

"Okay, good night, baby. I love you."

"Buenos noches, Julie. I love you, too. Take care."

And just as Harry detached the receiver from his earlobe, he heard the lady on the phone holler his name, again and again, which compelled him to lift it back up.

"Hi, yeah. I'm here."

"I almost forgot to tell you. Heather wants to meet you tomorrow, in the evening. She asked you to ring her up tomorrow, by ten in the morning, and she'll let you know where, and what time. I might've convinced her to see a few more of your paintings."