Killmonger's One-Shot Collection

On the Hotline

Note: Sad, lonely, horny reader calls a hotline. Sexual content.
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Lonely on a Saturday night, trying to stay positive and keep your thoughts from traveling down the familiar dark road of self-loathing and inexplicable hopelessness, you put on a Netflix documentary to still your mind, but still you couldn’t focus. You’d dissociate and by the time you snapped back to reality, you’d forgotten what you’d been thinking about. A typical Saturday in the apartment avoiding all humanity and.. right on schedule, it was time to seek validation via social media. You pulled up your Tumblr and scrolled on your phone as a way of escape from the blur of emotional overload and boredom.

“These dumb Tumblr ads.. ever since Yahoo acquired the app,” you groan from the curled up position on your couch. Your finger slips and a screen pops up taking you to an unintended link.

“Shit. Close.” Right as you’re about to hit the X and woosh the screen away, you spot a number. Apparently some of these ads are targeted based on your searches. “They must know my black ass is sitting here lonely,” you say with an eyeroll, putting your finger over the front camera lens. On the screen is a number and ad to a black sex hotline.. Something that seems so outdated with the popularization of social media.

“$4 a minute? That’s ridiculous,” you scoff, your thumb hovering over the X. But what if you just call for two minutes? What would you say? What would they say? Did they have men? Were they old? If you called, you could get rid of some of your questions and quell your curiosity. Should you call? Is it a scam? After going back in forth in your mind for a good ten minutes, you punch in the number and the phone rings.

“Hi and welcome to Black Connect Hotline. Would you like to speak to a male or female tonight,” lively recorded feminine voice asks answering one of your questions. You choose male and follow the prompting giving your credit card information warily, hoping it’s not a scam and luckily a human voice pics up the call.

“Erik here. What your fantasy?” He sounds like a man in his 20s to 30s, but there’s no way to be sure. His voice is midrange, not too high or low, but fairly deep in its own timbre. It’s smooth crushed velvet, but it’s also rough sandpaper.. an interesting dichotomy. It’s a voice you could listen to for hours if you weren’t paying $4 per minute. His voice is one that reverberates through your bones and your cooch.

“If you don’t know, then tell me about your sexual interests,” he says and immediately, you grasp for the words to say.

“I.. guess I’m just curious. What do people normally ask for? Or rather what is your specialty?”

“I’m gonna save you the five minute conversation if you don’t mind since it sounds like you’re new to this. Do you feel comfortable with my voice or do you need something different?”

“I like your voice.. It’s very warm.” There’s a low chuckle from the other side of the line and it awakens the muscles in your lower abdomen. You squeeze your thighs together in wait of his next words.

“Then I want you to listen closely to the words I say and do exactly what I tell you, okay? Say ‘yes sir’ when you ready.”

“Yes, sir.” You didn’t know what to expect when you called, but this man’s voice had an undeniable draw that made you want to keep listening and obey.

“Good girl,” he croons and you allow yourself to absorb the praise. “Now whatever you’re wearing, take all that shit off. I want you butt ass naked for this. You alone?”