Elia’s POV. (Elle-ee-ah)
📱: It’s incredible! How can I ever repay you?
I send the text to my best friend, Meg, as I wander around her gorgeous apartment.
She left the keys for me at the front desk and I let myself in ten minutes ago. I’ve spent every minute gawking at her beautiful flat.
Meg moved in a few weeks ago, and I still hadn’t gotten around to seeing her new place, she only start living in it last week. The first two weeks were spent redecorating, and I can see that her hard work paid off.
The entire flat is painted sky blue and most of the furniture is white. It’s light, open and stylish.
It makes my shitty little flat look like an absolute hole in comparison.
To be honest, mine is a bit of a hole anyway, without the comparison. I refuse to pay over half a month’s wages on rent. I’d rather live somewhere shitty for a year or so and save up for my own place.
Yesterday, a pipe burst in my building, flooding the apartment above mine. We’ve all had to evacuate for five days, leaving me with no place to stay.
My incredible friend has offered to let me sleep on her sofa for the rest of the week.
I look around her place and feel guilty that her living room has been ruined by the piles of my stuff. I was asked to remove my things from my flat whilst they renovate upstairs. They said there was a danger the ceiling might cave, so I should take anything valuable with me. Luckily, I don’t have too much stuff.
I get out my laptop and decide to work for a bit before Meg gets home.
I’m a grant writer. I write out grants for universities when their lecturers need to apply for grant money.
It’s not my dream job by any means, but it pays well and I can do it from home, so there’s no commute and I choose my own hours.
The only problem is, it’s not a social job. Hence why I only have Meg to rely on. I don’t get out much and I don’t have colleagues to socialise with. Meg is my only close friend, but with someone as loud and bubbly as her, I don’t really need anyone else.
I get a couple of hours of work done. I’m just finishing a draft when I hear the front door unlock.
Meg steps inside and my eyes widen as I take in her haggard appearance. She’s as pale as a ghost, has a red nose and watery eyes. She has a sickly pallor and her eyes have dark circles under them.
My usually vivacious friends is a shell of her former self.
‘Jesus, are you okay?’ I ask, knowing that the question is a stupid one. I stand up from the table and approach her.
‘I know how you can repay me for the flat,’ she says croakily, stumbling into the apartment.
‘Are you kidding me?’ I ask incredulously and Meg gives me a deadpan look.
‘Please, Elia,’ she pleads. Her voice is gruff and scratchy, not at all sexy.
‘But, I don’t even have experience with that sort of thing!’ I protest and she rolls her eyes at me.
‘You’ve heard me loads of times, I know you, you’ve got a dirty mind, you’ll be fine.’
I stare at her for a minute, considering my options.
Meg is a phone sex worker.
She works for a huge porn company who hires out escorts and offers phone sex. People can call in specifically for phone sex, or they can choose what Meg calls ‘the girlfriend package’.
Meg offers conversation, not just phone sex. Guys call her to talk about their days, or complain about their lives and she listens compassionately. She obviously offers dirty talk as well.
‘Please, Elle,’ she implores me, ‘I’ve managed to get one of my friends to take my shifts for the rest of the week, but I need you to do tonight and tomorrow, or my boss will kill me and I can’t have another strike, she’ll fire me.’
I chew on my bottom lip as I try to convince myself to do this for my friend. I’ve never had phone sex or even talked dirty to a guy. Hell, I haven’t had sex in months!
She can see I’m close to cracking and delivers the final blow.
‘We have orientation and training videos that I can show you, they’ll give you ideas on what to say!’
Seeing her blurry eyes, I know I’m not able to refuse her.
‘Fine,’ I mutter quietly and she grabs me and hugs me tightly.
‘Hey, you’ve still got a cold, you’re contagious,’ I tell her and push her off of me.
(Please, no Covid comments, I cannot)
‘Sorry gal, here, let’s have some dinner and I’ll talk you through it.’
We sit down to eat, Meg has soup for her throat. She explains the basics to me, but she’s right, I’ve heard her loads of times so I have an idea of what to say.
She plays the training videos for me, and my face turns the same colour as her tomato soup.
Oh yes! Just like that! Keep going baby ahhhh-
Meg pauses the video, as the woman reaches her fake completion, and turns to grin at me.
‘Well?’ She probes and I gape at her.
‘I’ve got to do that?’ I splutter, my eyes wide and horrified.
Meg shrugs. ‘You don’t have to be that OTT, but I think you’ll get into it.’
I shake my head in dismay. I never thought I’d be doing this.
‘They might love that you’re new and you’ve not done this before, you know what some guys are like, they love taking charge,’ she says.
Her voice sounds like she’s been smoking all her life, and she coughs between sentences. I get why she can’t work, unless the callers have a thing for sore throats and phlegm.
‘My regular, Jimmy, will call at seven, he’ll only want to talk about his day, so he’s easy.’ I eat as she fills me in. ‘Francis will be after that, he likes you to take control, just tell him how you want to spank him for being a naughty boy and he’ll cum in under three minutes.’
I grimace but keep eating.
This is not my idea of pleasant dinner conversation.
‘After eight, it’s new callers, so I have no idea what you’ll get, but I can sit with you, if you’d like.’
I consider her offer but shake my head. ‘No, I’ll be way too embarrassed with you listening.’
‘Fine, I’ll be in my room, just come find me if you need me.’
I get more and more nervous as seven o’clock nears. Meg hands me her work phone and I settle myself on the sofa.
She’s pulled it out into the bed and now it’s covered in pillows and a spare duvet. I’m comfy, but anything but relaxed.
At exactly 19:01, the phone rings.
I steel myself and swipe the bar to answer the phone.
‘Hello?’ I answer, hoping my voice doesn’t sound as nervous as I feel.
‘Uh, Crystal?’ A nasal, male voice asks.
This must be Jimmy.
‘I’m sorry but Crystal is not very well tonight, she’s asked me to step in, I hope that’s okay,’ I reply and it goes silent for a moment. Worried that I might lose him, I continue, ‘Talk to me, I want to help.’
‘What’s your name?’
Shit! I didn’t think of one!
‘Leah,’ I reply. It’s a nickname I used to have as a child because my younger friend couldn’t say Elia.
‘Okay Leah, can I tell you about my day?’ He asks, sounding more relaxed.
Good, I’ve got to keep him happy.
‘Of course, tell me all about it,’ I reply easily and wriggle into the pillows.
Half an hour of whining later, Jimmy finally hangs up. I groan and put my head in my hands.
‘Jimmy’s all good!’ I tell Meg as I pop my head in her room.
‘Amazing, thank you so much baby!’ She smiles at me and continues hugging her hot water bottle.
The phone rings. I shut Meg’s door and rush over to the bed. I swipe the bar and answer with a breathy ‘hey’.
I have to go with through the same explanation with Francis, explaining why ‘Crystal’ won’t be talking to them tonight.
‘But she’s told me what a bad boy you’ve been,’ I say and grimace at myself, ‘she told me that I need to punish you.’
A strained groan comes from the end of the phone and I silently gag.
‘Yes mistress, I’ve been so bad, punish me.’
I stare at the patterned ceiling and wish that I was anywhere but here.
I take Francis through his punishment. Telling him to bend over and take the paddling I’ll give him. He groans and grunts throughout and finally, he orgasms.
I mime shooting myself with a gun with my fingers. That was painful.
He hangs up and I wretch.
I throw back the duvet and storm into Meg’s room.
‘That was disgusting, I don’t know how you don’t have to shower after talking to him,’ I comment and she laughs huskily at me.
‘Yeah, Francis makes some very special noises.’
I shudder at her words. ‘Don’t remind me, that was horrendous, I’m scarred for life.’
I go back out of her room and sit on the bed. I eye the phone warily whilst checking my messages on my own phone.
It begins buzzing at quarter past eight.
‘Hello?’ I answer, trying to make my voice breathy again.
‘I want you to tell me what you’re wearing,’ a man on the other end orders.
I wrinkle my nose at his high-pitched voice, but play along.
This is for Meg.