and offered up the standard Chelsea explanation of life.
“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? She’s jealous.”
***
Jason
We won.
Of course we fucking won. We were on fire, dancing round the pitch like Kings of the world.
Kensington Rangers - 3
Manchester Athletic - 0
Trevor Loveridge had cheered us on from the bench, leaping around so much I feared he’d give himself a bloody heart attack. We’d smashed it, drilled them into the dirt, and left them limp and broken.
Singers, Singers, Singers!
I’d made a point of running in front of the VIP box to blow my fake wife a kiss. Take that, bitch, who’s fucking useless now?
I’d been on my game, scuppering every decent chance Athletic had. It wasn’t their day. It was mine.
We all had a swift pint in the players’ bar to celebrate, but I left soon after. I had other things on my mind...
Milky-white tits and fiery hair. My sweet, sweet Lucy, and her sweet, sweet pussy.
Tonight would be the night, I just knew it. Two numbers left, and I wasn’t hanging up without them.
***
Gemma
Two on the dot.
No niceties this evening, and I hadn’t expected any…
Hadn’t really wanted any.
“The last two digits,” he demanded, “what are they?”
My eyes darted to my laptop screen, skirting over my instant messaging list. Sheena had logged off, but after the other night I couldn’t be so sure.
I held the handset tight, ignoring the trembling in my fingers. “Shh... you know I’m not allowed.”
A crackle on the line as he shifted position. “Come on, Lucy... is that even your name? You sound like a Lucy, I think? Are you really in London?”
No. It’s not my name. Yes, I’m really in London.
Something in his voice was teasing… playing with me.
“They listen in to the calls...” I said. “I’ll get fired...”
“But they aren’t, are they? I can hear it in your voice when they’re around. Can you see them? Do you have a high-tech chatline system that shows that kind of shit? Is that why you make me call so late?”
“Let’s talk about fucking...” I purred. “What would you do to me... if you were here right now?”
“Last two digits...” he said. “…and I’ll show you.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I should hang up. Return to the script. Wait until the twenty-minute automatic cut-off and log out of my shift. I should report it too, report him… block him from my client list and put an end to all this madness.
“You’ve given me the others... don’t think I didn’t know what you were doing... you want this to be real, as much as I do...”
“I... um... I’m not who you think I am…”
“Lucy, whatever your name really is... tell me those two digits, or I swear to God I’ll try all ninety-nine combinations until I reach you, and I don’t give a fuck how many people I wake up at three a.m. to do it.”
“Jason... I...”
“Last two digits...”
My stomach lurched.
I looked at the screen again. Sheena RS335 - away.
Away. Away. Away.
“I know it’s real for you. I’ve called enough of these shitty lines over the years to know... you really want this... you want me... I can give it to you, real life, every fantasy we spoke about... all of it... I can set it up...”
“I... I can’t...”
“Last two digits.”
My chest fluttered, fighting the truth in his words.
Yes, I really want this. Yes, I really want him. I want him to fuck me, just like we talk about. I want him to watch other people fuck me, too. Lots of other people…
“I shouldn’t...”
“Two digits, Lucy, otherwise I’m starting at zero-zero and working my way up until I find you.”
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
I took a breath.
This was crazy. Really. Fucking. Crazy.
“Zero seven,” I said. “The last two digits are zero seven.”
The line went dead in a heartbeat.
And my mobile started up.
***
Chapter Eight
Jason
The line rang for an age, a slow drone of torment as my heart thumped in my ears. A wrong number? A sham? A big fat game?
Silence as the call connected, then my Lucy’s soft greeting, the faintest hint of nerves.
“Hi...”
Hi. Just like that.
“It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“It’s good to hear yours, too.” She took a deep breath. “Hi, Jason. Is Jason your real name?”
“Yes,” I said. “Your name isn’t Lucy, though, is it?”
“No. It’s Gemma. I am in London, though, and I am a redhead...”
“I’m really from Surrey, too.” I fisted a hand in my hair. “I’ve been so looking forward to this.”
A soft sigh. “You don’t know me, Jason... I’m not like you imagine... I’m not... um...”