𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 ʳᵉᵈᵈⁱᵉ

𝗢𝗡𝗘

Eddie had no idea what he was doing. It was a horrible idea. He knew that. But he wanted to force himself out of his comfort zone. He wanted to do something. He was tired of being held back by his fear. This was a drastic measure, to be sure, but he was feeling pretty extreme these days.

See, Eddie had a problem and very little idea of how to solve it.

As much as he wished he could seek advice from his friends, Eddie just couldn't imagine bringing this up around Bill, Ben, or Mike. They were his best friends and he'd die for them but there were just certain things that he wouldn't, maybe even couldn't , discuss with them. Because really, how do you bring up the fact that your repressed childhood and overbearing mother left you with a possibly permanent fear of your own sexuality?

Eddie knew that he was gay. That wasn't the issue. It was expressing himself in any sexual way that made his stomach churn, his hands shake, and his lungs grow tight. He'd masturbated a few times. They were profoundly uncomfortable experiences, even when he managed to come, because in the back of his mind a little persistent voice kept telling him that he was dirty for doing it.

He tried watching porn, hoping that it may get him out of his head if he saw the act playing out in front of him. But no matter what type of porn he watched, Eddie always experienced vague distress and intimidation. He felt like someone was watching him, like he'd be caught any second and shamed for who he was and for his filthy thoughts. Even if he didn't have that fear, the obviously scripted scenarios and manufactured moans still did little for him.

So he had a problem.

Because even with all of his trepidation, there was a part of him that craved intimacy. Eddie wanted to know what it was like to simply kiss or hold someone without feeling a creeping anxiety attack coming on. He wanted to know pleasure. But he was holding himself back and he had no idea how to fix it. Eddie felt trapped by his own guilt and fear and he was tired of it. That was how he found himself here, holding his phone in one shaking hand and the number to a phone sex hotline in the other.

It was a local Manhattan number and a cursory search on Google told him that it was a legitimate business with good reviews. Eddie didn't read the reviews. He didn't want to risk seeing something that would scare himself off. The four and a half stars from over three-hundred reviews was enough to convince him that it wasn't a scam. The website boasted a variety of operators, male and female, LGBT+ friendly, and a guaranteed personalized experience.

Eddie wasn't exactly sure what personalized meant and part of him was terrified to find out. But he wanted to push himself. Even if it ended horribly, he wanted to try. He wanted to step outside of his comfort zone. Then at least he would know. So Eddie dialed and, after taking several deep breaths and a puff from his inhaler just in case, he pressed the green button.

"Hi," a female operator's voice came over the line. "Welcome to-"

He tore the phone away from his ear, pressing end on the call before he could really think through what he was doing. Then he dropped the phone to the bed so quick that it may as well have burned him, standing up to pace the small bedroom of the apartment he shared with Bill. Several minutes passed as he tried to talk himself out of the panic rising in his chest, running a hand through his hair and breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.

Then Eddie sat back down and picked his phone up. He was many things but rarely ever a quitter. It was mostly out of sheer rage and stubbornness that he managed to get a lot of things done. Eddie redialed the number, forcing himself to listen to it ring. The operator answered again and he had to desperately hope that they didn't pay much attention to caller ID.

"Hi," they said again, sounding just as distantly polite as before.

They began a rehearsed speech, giving Eddie a list of guidelines before asking for his credit card information. Then...