On the Line

I drummed my fingers against my stomach as the phone rang once, twice, three times...
“Thank you for calling. Before we continue, are you over the age of eighteen?”
“Yes.”
“Are you aware the rate per minute is one pound?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, sir. Your calls may be monitored to protect our staff. Please hold.”
I relaxed into my pillows, rolling my eyes as the cliché porno hold music filtered through the speaker. I didn't wait long.
“Good evening, how can I be of service tonight?”
Her voice was pleasant, a sultry cadence, breathy. If I closed my eyes, it'd be easy to pretend she was laying beside me, whispering in the darkness.
“I just want to talk,” I said. “What's your name?”
“My name is Trixie,” she said, obviously a fake name. “And what would you like me to call you?”
“Just...Niall. My name is Niall. How is your evening?”
“Oh, it's lovely, especially now that you've called. What are you wearing, Niall?”
“No,” I said sternly, desperately trying to make my point. “I just want to talk. I don't want phone sex.”
For a moment, she was quiet, confused. “Surely I can change your mind. What do you need to hear?”
I shook my head, running a hand across my face. “Tell me a story. Tell me about the last funny movie you watched.”
“Would you like to watch a movie together, Niall? Maybe we could reenact-”
“No!” I yelled. “No! Just...What did you have for breakfast?”
She laughed, a teasing giggle. “Breakfast is my favorite part of the day...I tend to start slow-”
“Oh my god...Stop. Do me a favor and don't even mention sex, okay?” I begged. “I just want some company for the night.”
“Company? I'm good company. What kind of com-”
I sighed, shaking my head. “Stop. This was clearly a bad idea, sorry for wasting your time. You sound like a nice girl, you should quit this job, it's disgusting. Have a good night.”
I almost pressed my thumb to the screen to end the call, but her voice stopped me.
“Wait! You...You really don't want phone sex?”
She spoke in a normal tone, not the fake breathy tone girls in her line of work used to sound sexy.
“No, I don't. Have a good-”
“Why?” she cut in. “Why did you call?”
“It's stupid,” I muttered. “It was a dumb idea-”
“Why did you call?”
I paused, looking around the empty hotel room, the only light shining from the bathroom. The clock on the table read half eleven. “I'm lonely,” I muttered. “I just wanted someone to talk to. I know you're busy, so I'll go, it was stupid to call. I'm sorry.”
“Please don't hang up! I...I can talk. It's exhausting turning on gross old men all night long.”
I laughed, wincing. “Yeah, that sounds...awful. Are you sure? I don't want to get you into any trouble.”
She giggled, a girlish sound. “I mean...I get paid for every minute you stay on the phone...and you're paying for those minutes...”
“But the calls are monitored, I don't-”
“The calls aren't monitored, that's a deterrent. The line is sent directly to my company cell phone, all I do is answer the call. We are totally alone.”
“Oh,” I muttered. “So, where are you? Like, in an office?”
She laughed. “No, I'm at home, painting my toes on the couch, watching a rerun of Friends.”
“Friends is on?” I asked, reaching for the remote. “What channel?”
“Umm...twelve! You like Friends?”
“Does anyone dislike Friends?” I scoffed, smiling when she laughed. “What color are you painting your toes?”
“Hot pink.”
“Good choice.”
“So, where are you? And why do you need company?”
I shifted in bed, resting the remote on my chest. “I'm in a hotel in London. The life I live doesn't deliver much privacy and sometimes it's easier just to be alone. But it's lonely.”
“Well,” she sighed. “That doesn't sound enjoyable at all.”
“It has its ups and downs. Where are you from?”
“Originally, Brighton. I moved to London a few months ago. And I've already gathered you're from Ireland.”
I laughed. “How could you tell?” I teased. “I'm from Mullingar, but I live in London now...sort of.”
“Sort of?” she questioned.
“I travel a lot, for work. Like, a lot, very, very often. Well, I guess I don't much anymore, for now. It's sort of stopping for awhile...”
“Uh-huh,” she mumbled, confused. “If you live in London, why are you staying in a hotel?”
“Um...” I mumbled, trying not to give too much away. “It's a...security measure.”
“Security?” she snorted, laughing. “Are you famous?--Oh, hang on a second, pizza delivery guy is here.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, glad to dodge that question. I wasn't sure if I could trust her with my identity, I didn't need the world knowing Niall Horan called a sex line for a midnight chat. I listened as she talked to the delivery guy, politely asking him how his shift was going and thanking him, twice, for climbing the stairs to her flat. I waited as she readjusted herself on the couch, the blankets muffling against the phone, before her voice broke through the speakers. “Sorry about that. Where were we?”
“You were telling me what your favorite kind of pizza is,” I laughed, my stomach growling. All I had in my bag was a box of granola bars.
“I stick with classic pepperoni, can't mix too many flavors. Do you order wings, or breadsticks?” she asked, mouth full.
“Both,” I laughed. “And sometimes dessert, depends on what they have.”
“Me too!” she shrieked. “I ordered those cinnamon-things!”
“The doughy stuff? With the icing drizzled over the top? Oh god, those are so good! You ordered that all for yourself?!”
She laughed again, and I imagined she was blushing. “Wellllll...I probably won't eat anything else for a few days. This will cover breakfast, lunch, dinner, and midnight snacks for the rest of the week. Thank god I don't have to cook.”
“Busy week?” I asked, feeling her pain.
“Ugh, yeah. Exams, and I still have to answer pervy old mens phone calls two nights this week.”
“Studying, eating, and getting horny old dudes off...every girls dream. Speaking of dreams...When do you sleep?”
“Ohhhh,” she sighed. “My sleep schedule is pretty wonky. I don't get off work until four in the morning, and I usually crash right after. I don't have class until noon, though, so I usually sleep until eight or so. I have class until four, then I have the rest of the evening to do errands or study, my shift starts at ten o'clock.”
“Can I ask you an offensive question?”
She giggled, already knowing. “I do this job because it doesn't require much out of me. I figure out what men want, spoon feed it to them, and call it a night. It pays well and I can make my own hours. If I don't want to work, I turn off the company cell phone. Besides, it's only two or three nights a week. I can pick up more hours if I need to, but...I can only handle a couple nights.”
“I gotcha,” I muttered. “Does your family know?”
“Ummm...sort of? They know I'm a phone operator, and that I work from home...But no, and I'd die if they ever found out.”
“Daddy wouldn't be happy, huh?” I teased.
“No, Daddy would stroke out,” she laughed.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
She groaned. “Oh god no! I don't have time for a man, but a boyfriend takes too much work! Getting them off on the phone is easy, but in real life? I don't have time to cater to a mans needs.”
“Cater to his needs?!” I asked, surprised. “Shouldn't he be catering to you?”
She scoffed, probably rolling her eyes. “Yeah, right. Boys don't even know what to do with lady parts.”
“That's because you're dating boys. Men know what they're doing,” I reasoned, laughing.
“Do you consider yourself a man, Niall?” she teased.
“I do,” I insisted. “Very much so.”
She was quiet for a moment before she giggled. “I thought we weren't talking about sex.”
I groaned, realizing she caught my slip up. “Oops. New topic...How old are you?”
“I'm almost twenty-four. You're what, forty?”
“Hah, very funny. No, I'm almost twenty-five. Tell me, how often do you have to lie for this job of yours?”
“I lie to every single customer.”
“Have you lied to me?”
“Yes,” she giggled. “My name isn't Trixie.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I didn't think so. Will you tell me your name?”
“If I tell you my name,” she paused, for dramatic effect. “Will you tell me what you do for a living?”
“Ahhh I thought you forgot about that. Yes, but only if you promise never, ever to tell.”
“If I told, would it ruin your life?”
“Nah,” I assured her. “Just inconvenient.”
“Would it ruin your reputation?”
“Um...yeah, for awhile.”
She giggled. “Okay, Niall Horan, your secret is safe with me.”
I scoffed, laughing. “You already knew! That's not fair!”
“I used my context clues, conductive reasoning! Still want to know my name?”
“Yes, I do, Trixie.”
She groaned. “God, I hate that name.”
“I'm sure your real name is much prettier,” I laughed. “What is it?”
“Lillian, but everyone calls me Lily.”
“Hmmm,” I hummed. “I'm quite fond of lillies. Lillian. Very pretty. Can I call you Lily Pad?”
“Can I call you a Horan-y toad?”
I rolled my eyes and muttered under my breath, but I quite liked her banter. “Alright, Friends is over, what are we watching now?”
“Seinfeld is on, but no one likes that show...” She hummed as she flipped through the channels, talking to herself before giving up. “There's nothing on.”
“Can I make a formal request?”
“I'm all ears, Horany Toad.”
I rolled my eyes, but I smiled. “Turn off the TV, double check the locks, turn off all the lights, and go to bed, it's nearly one in the morning.”
“Awww man, is this when you start wanting sex chat?!” she whined.
I laughed, a deep laugh that rolled up through my stomach, surprising me. It'd been a long time since I'd laughed like that. “No! You're quitting early tonight.”
“I can't,” she argued. “I can't turn off the company cell phone until four! And if you hang up, I might get another call!”
“Alright, fine,” I countered. “Go do all those things I asked you to do, brush your teeth, whatever, then lay in bed and talk to me. If you make it until four, we'll hang up. If you fall asleep, I'll disconnect at four.”
“That's still another three hours,” she muttered. “I don't want to keep you awake all night.”
“You won't!” I assured her. “I'm jet lagged from being in Australia a few days ago, I slept all day.” That was a lie, but she'd never have to know.
She was quiet for a moment, but when she spoke again, her voice was quiet. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I'm sure. I'm the customer, you're supposed to please me! Go lay down,” I added, gently. “You get a little vacation.”
“I think you're my favorite customer I've ever had,” she said softly. “The rest of them just want something from me.”
“Nah, not me. What are you doing?”
“Putting the pizza in the fridge, I only have to brush my teeth.”
“What color is your toothbrush?” I asked, knowing it was a dumb question.
“Umm...pink. Why?”
“Do you like pink? Your toes are pink, your toothbrush is pink...What else is pink?”
“I mean, pink is okay,” she giggled. “Um, my lipstick is pink. My favorite running shoes are pink...”
“What color are your sheets?”
“Why are you asking weird questions?!” she yelled, laughing.
“I don't know! I just like to hear you talk,” I yelled back.
“Purple!” she yelled into the phone. “My sheets are purple!”
“I like purple!”
“Yeah, purple is cool!”
We were both quiet for a moment, but she broke the silence with a fit of giggles. “You're strange, Horany Toad.”
“It's not nice to call people names, Lilly Pad.”
I waited as she brushed her teeth and, once she was settled into bed, our conversation picked back up easily. It was almost three in the morning when her voice took on a lazy, husky tone, a clear indicator that her mind was shutting down for the evening. It took her a little longer to answer simple questions, her words slurring together, as if her jaw was too heavy.
“Are you tired?” I whispered into the darkness.
“A little,” she whispered back.
“Would you like to go to sleep?”
“Very much.”
“Can I ask you one more question, Lillian?”
“Mmhmm.”
I toyed with a string on the comforter, feeling embarrassed to ask. “Can I talk to you again?”
I knew it was silly. I knew it was juvenile to hope for anything, but she was the first person I'd had a conversation with, a real conversation, in weeks...months...years. Sure, the conversation had been pointless and generally silly, but it had been effortless and without limitations. I already felt like I could call her a friend. I waited for an answer for what seemed like ages, and I thought she had fallen asleep. Finally, though, she spoke. “I work again Thursday night. If fate wants us to speak again, you'll find me.”
“You believe in fate?” I asked, whispering.
“Very much so.”
I smiled. “Sweet Dreams, Lily Pad. I'll disconnect at four, and I'll talk to you again Thursday night. I promise.”
“Thank you, Niall. Goodnight.”
I turned speakerphone on and set my phone down on the bedside table, laying in the darkness, listening to the rustle of blankets. She tossed and turned for a few minutes, but after that, silence. I stared up at the ceiling until the clock on the table read four. I disconnected the call, mentally calculated how much money I'd just spent talking to a complete stranger, and sent up a quick prayer to the heavens that fate would be on my side Thursday evening.