𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 ✓ (𝟷𝟾+)

The disappointment

Arin

Roger Murphy was my mystery caller. I had phone sex with my boss. Of all the men in the world and town, the one call that came through to me was of Rogers'.

Not that I assumed it to be Henry Cavill on the other end but Roger!

How on earth did he end up getting my call center's number?

Worst of all - I couldn't bring myself to attend his calls anymore.

Though he paid me generously and talked to me like nobody else, that little gesture was soon marred when my mind tossed up troubling thoughts.

Did he assume I was a whore?

Someone who didn't have enough money?

Or did he merely take pity on me; on my current state?

Would he call me again? That question troubled me more. What would I say if he did indeed call?

Roger was my rude boss in the office. That man was arrogant as hell and was known to make people's lives miserable, just to get his way around. His temper tantrum wasn't something new either. His usual acts - tossing things in the air whenever he was agitated, coupled with his sarcastic retorts - weren't new to any of us.

He seemed different on the call. Calm and composed like a tamed man, he knew his verbal abilities had the power to make any woman come undone.

God!

The only respite for me was knowing he didn't know my identity.

The tall, broad-shouldered Roger whose ice blue eyes and stoic demeanor used to stop me from speaking, breathing normally during dictation, now became the man whose calls I was looking forward to. Every time my phone displayed anything, my heart would launch up, only to fall back into a dark bottomless pit upon knowing it wasn't him.

What worked for me while attending calls was imagining that my callers were inanimate. With Roger, I kissed goodbye to that assumption. His chiseled jawline and that thousand-watt smile with a soft dent on his cheek created by a perfect dimple would be an imagination difficult to wipe out during calls.

Needing to wrap my head around the knowledge I possessed, my immediate want to call the operator after entering my apartment seemed to fade away.

Was I ready for another call?

The law graduate that I was, approaching the problem with a pros and cons list made more sense. Yet, of all the weighing and evaluations, money spoke volumes in helping my decision.

Money - since I was knee-deep in student debt and my mother's medical bills which kept piling on even after her death - played the tipping point in getting me ready to talk to Roger again.

Was a part of me glad? Not sure.

After a quick shower, I dialed the operator and waited patiently for her to connect my calls.

My apartment was cozy, like those matchbox houses in the movie Ratatouille. There wasn't much floor space for me to jog around but whatever was available, I made my living in it. Every time my vision landed on my phone screen, butterflies and moths fluttered from my gut to my chest and wreaked havoc inside me.

It was a different thrill in playing this game, knowing the client while he didn't know me.

My phone rang. I launched up and onto my phone like a predator pouncing on its prey. Checking if my jerk reaction broke my device in two, I saw the flashing digits. The fluttering inside my gut died a terrible death.