Page 6 of Below the Shadow of the City

CHAPTER 6

“ O oh dirty girl!” He teases at my answer, lightness has crept back into his voice after his proposition.

I roll my eyes at the sarcasm, as if he could see me from wherever he is. “Do you care to participate as well or should I end this call?”

He laughs, “Oh no, no, I will most definitely be partaking,” his voice turns into a growl. “But you’re very trusting of strangers.” He hisses the ‘s’ and the sound curls up and settles directly between my thighs. I squirm slightly on top of my bed.

“Well, I know where I can find you if I need to kill you,” I retort as I lean back onto my pillows.

“Murder in the laundry room? Now that’s hot,” does he know that banter is the quickest way to get me to spread my legs?

“You’re making me regret agreeing to this,” I cover up any hint of interest.

“It’s called flirting , Sigrid. I’m promoting lighthearted dialogue between us to create an open, yet seductive atmosphere. ”

“Oh my god, are you reading a WikiHow article on how to have phone sex?”

He completely ignores my question. “What are you wearing right now?” He lowers his voice. I’m fascinated by how quickly he can change his tone, and how it’s already working.

“Really? The most cliche phone sex question?” I feign ambivalence, but I’ve had such a long dry spell even the sentence he’s uttered is enough to make hot liquid swirl around in my core.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t—” It sounds like he’s throwing his hands up in faux annoyance. How can I beg him to do this for me, how can I coax him to come into my apartment and fuck me harder than I can even fathom?

“I’m wearing a ratty concert t-shirt and sweatpants, I didn’t think I’d be seducing someone today.”

“What band?” He asks with a deep curiosity, like mentioning whatever shoegaze indie band he’s into is going to turn him on.

I look down at the shirt I’m in, realizing my middle school sleep shirt is going to make him even less into it, “Britney Spears.”

“Now, that’s pretty hot,” he laughs. I touch my hand to my unwashed hair and greasy face. Nothing about me at the moment is hot, but right now he’s not the only one benefitting from anonymity.

“I mean, I’m not wearing a bra underneath,” I’d relegated today to a rot day and had done little more beyond some dishes and pacing around my apartment. His call is the most exciting thing that has happened in the last twenty four hours. Really, the last nine months. My nipples are already hard under the worn cotton fabric.

“Okay, we’re getting somewhere,” he coos.

“And what are you wearing?”

“Just sweatpants, of the gray variety.” Of course he is. Hot guy uniform. Wonder if these ones have the slit cut out in the back too like the ones in his laundry…for easy access? Or…something?

“Mmhmm,” I nod, squeezing my eyes shut to envision him standing before me, he’s still a ghostly figure, “you said you were tall, how tall are you?”

“Very,” the vowels linger on his tongue before curling up into me, “for reference, I can easily touch the ceiling of the laundry room.”

“Big hands?”

He chuckles and the vibrations go straight to my core, “The better to pleasure you with, my dear.” ‘ My dear?’ Goodness gracious.

“Is that what you’d do if you were here?” My voice trembles, my hips twitch up into the air, begging for a warm body to be above me.

“Oh,” he laughs and his voice grows low, “I can talk you through exactly what I’d do.”

“Yes, please.”

“First, you need to get naked for me, Sigrid. I want you to walk through each step you take so I can be sure you don’t miss a thing.”

I slide my sweatpants off in a clumsy shimmy and rest my thighs back on top of my comforter, “I just took off my pants.”

He clicks his tongue. “Better take off the underwear too. Can you do that for me?” I whine out “mmhmm” in a voice that sounds nothing like mine and follow his instructions. “While you’re at it, let's take that shirt off too.” I prop myself up and pull the ratty fabric up over my head.

“I’m a very, very thorough man. I’d take my time pleasuring every last inch of you. For starters, I would make sure those breasts of yours aren’t overlooked, I’d give them a gentle caress, feeling the soft skin that turns into gooseflesh at my very touch. And like a rabid animal, I’d devour your perky nipples. Savoring the taste of each one, rolling around those tight little pebbles in my mouth.” I reach down and circle them with a finger, picturing a hot tongue dragging alongside them. I clench at the thought of feeling his hot breath over my skin.

“Then,” he continues, “I’d work my way down. Draw a line up your stomach with my tongue, and part those creamy little thighs. Tell me, Sigrid, when I'd spread your legs, would you be wet?”

“Soaking,” my voice trembles, I’m following along, trailing my fingers along the outside of my thighs, heat already radiating out, my muscles twitching thinking of him.

“Good girl,” he says slowly, nearly a growl, “My tongue would part your folds, and I’d lick up every last drop of you. Your clit would be the cherry on top of the sundae, and I’d suck on it till it pops off the stem.” His enunciation of “pops” makes me nearly come right there. My fingers are circling my clit in a steady motion, giving it the attention that this stranger says I need. I envision him looming above me, in my head he's a combination of shadows and vague descriptors. I can nearly see his blue eyes, glowing at me through narrow eyelids, looking at my body like it’s art.

“I’d then slip a finger in, only one to start, since my hands are very big and I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you, not yet. I want to take things slow for you to be ready for me, nice and stretched out and practically begging for me to stuff you to the brim.” A whimper slips out, I’ve already lost some control here. I slide a finger inside myself, one of my own isn’t nearly as big as his probably is, so I add a second and sharply inhale as I begin steadily pumping my fingers.

“How would it feel, Sigrid?” He asks slowly, like he’s prying out the words from himself.

“Like I’m gonna die if I don’t get the real thing from you soon,” I release a breathy laugh that turns into a slight moan.

“Hmmph, we’ll have to make sure you make yourself come so you can momentarily forget about missing me,” he’s growing breathless on his end, and I imagine he’s stroking his cock to the same rhythm I’m pumping into myself. “I’d slide in a second finger, and push deeper and deeper and caress your inner walls, all while making sure your clit isn’t totally overlooked. It would get special, precious treatment from me. I’d circle my thumb around it, treat it like a button that if I maneuver it correctly, it’ll make you completely fall apart for me.” I stroke myself steadier now, my breaths grow ragged as he speaks. I feel myself nearly on the precipice and try to dig deeper, like he said he would do for me.

“Sigrid?” He moans out my name.

“Yes?” I eke out, barely able to form real words.

“I’m going to need you to come for me, can you do that?”

“Y-yes,” I answer.

“Good girl,” he growls low. Almost on cue, I release a sound that doesn’t even seem human as my walls clench and my thighs tremble around me in a crashing orgasm. My breathing slows and I look over at the still-on vibrator lying beside me. I didn’t even need to use it.