The Message

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Regional Sales Consultant David Nguyen is mistakenly routed to the office voicemail of Dusty Way. Asking her to call back regarding a couple of questions, his sultry voice evokes questions for Dusty as well. But the kind of consultation Dusty has in mind might not be part of David's typical presentation.

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Chapter 1

The slim voicemail indicator on her phone was blinking red as Dusty rushed back into her office. She tossed her handbag on her desk chair and sighed as she took off her jacket. She’d taken a late lunch, consequentially missing all the post-noon calls. Instead of being able to slack off after her meal, she knew she’d have to play catch up.

She punched in her code on the grey phone’s keypad and she was relieved to find that out of the several missed calls, only one had left her a voicemail. However, as the message played, she was immediately distracted by a man’s low, soft voice that was both meditative and inviting, with just a hint of an accent in otherwise perfect English. His voice was so sexy, all she got out of the message was his name, David Nguyen, and something about a couple of questions he had.

Developing an instant infatuation with the sound of his voice, she replayed the message twice more. Ignoring the purpose of his call, she began to wonder if he was the same age as her, or at least close enough. Then she wondered if he were single, or at least available, and, most importantly, if he looked as sexy as he sounded. It would be wholly unfair if he were gifted with a beguiling voice like that and didn’t have the physical aesthetics to go with it.

She’d never heard of the company he said he was calling from, and the caller ID only showed his personal mobile number. Dusty tried to Google his phone number, his name, and the company name, but she only came up with dead ends or obviously wrong results that only left her with more questions: Was it a new company? Was he new to the area? Was it his real name or an assumed name?

Receiving his voicemail when she dialed him back, she learned from his personalized greeting that he was a Regional Sales Consultant for the obscure company. It was obvious to her from his title that he was interested in selling something to her employer. However, Dusty’s job didn’t entail entering into contractual agreements or even purchasing inventory. She wasn’t surprised that he’d been transferred to her extension, though, because the inept switchboard operator frequently blindly sent her calls that weren’t for her department.

Despite not leaving him a message in exchange, he had evidently seen her number pop up on his Caller ID because he called right back within moments. Hesitating as she saw his mobile number appear on her own Caller ID, she let the phone ring a couple of times before she picked up the receiver. She attempted to assume a professional but mildly seductive voice to match his as she identified herself. Two can play this game, she thought to herself.

“I’m so sorry, Dusty, I was assisting another client.” He spoke to her gingerly in the same exact tone and temper he’d used on the voicemail. Her lips parted and she began to melt into her chair as she glanced around her empty office, wishing she’d closed her door. She was overcome with an impulse to prolong her conversation with him purely for the purpose of touching herself as he spoke, but she attempted to brush the thought aside.

David briefly explained his company and some of the services they provided, but she wasn’t really listening because she already knew that she couldn’t help him with it. But suddenly, on a wild whim, Dusty decided that she didn’t care if entertaining sales reps was part of her job or not. How else could she possibly meet him so she could see what he looked like and, if she liked what she saw, to find out more about him personally? It wouldn’t do to call him later with her personal mobile phone just to ask him questions like: Are you single? Or: Would you like to meet me for dinner?

Before she rationalized it further, she heard herself suggest to him that he could come to her office and discuss what sort of packages his company offered. The cadence of his voice didn’t alter—he didn’t take on that giddy anticipation of a big potential sale, nor did he seem remotely suspicious of her being anything less than honest. He simply reviewed his calendar and offered her days of his availability until finding one that worked mutually. As she disconnected the line, Dusty hoped that no one became privy to her scheme.

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