Hotline

By Quinn Anderson

A MURMUR INC. NOVEL

Zack never intended to become a phone sex operator, but with half a college degree and a smart mouth, his options were limited. It helps that he has a knack for thinking on his feet and a willingness to roll with whatever his clients throw at him. Sure, he gets his fair share of creeps and unconventional requests, but it pays the bills, and he’s in no danger of breaking his one rule: never fall for a client.

Until a man named “John” starts calling, and Zack finds himself interested in more than a paycheck. It’s not just that John has money, or that his rumbling baritone drives Zack wild. He’s everything Zack isn’t: educated, poised, and in total control of his life.

A twist of fate brings them face-to-face, and now that they’ve seen each other — and spent an unforgettable night together — they can’t go back to the way things were. A sex worker and a trust fund brat . . . It’s like Romeo and Juliet, but with less stabbing and slightly fewer dick jokes. Hopefully they can pull off a more successful ending.

NOTE: Titles in the Murmur Inc. universe can be enjoyed in any order — jump in wherever you'd like!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Riptide Publishing
• Release date: Oct 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781626494855

Book preview

Riptide Publishing

PO Box 1537

Burnsville, NC 28714

www.riptidepublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All person(s) depicted on the cover are model(s) used for illustrative purposes only.

Hotline

Copyright © 2016 by Quinn Anderson

Smashwords Edition

Cover art: L.C. Chase, lcchase.com/design.htm

Editors: Rachel Haimowitz, Kate De Groot

Layout: L.C. Chase, lcchase.com/design.htm

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at Riptidepublishing.com, or at [e-mail].

ISBN: 978-1-62649-485-5

First edition

October, 2016

Also available in paperback:

ISBN: 978-1-62649-486-2

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Zack never intended to become a phone sex operator, but with half a college degree and a smart mouth, his options were limited. It helps that he has a knack for thinking on his feet and a willingness to roll with whatever his clients throw at him. Sure, he gets his fair share of creeps and unconventional requests, but it pays the bills, and he’s in no danger of breaking his one rule: never fall for a client.

Until a man named John starts calling, and Zack finds himself interested in more than a paycheck. It’s not just that John has money, or that his rumbling baritone drives Zack wild. He’s everything Zack isn’t: educated, poised, and in total control of his life.

A twist of fate brings them face-to-face, and now that they’ve seen each other—and spent an unforgettable night together—they can’t go back to the way things were. A sex worker and a trust fund brat . . . It’s like Romeo and Juliet, but with less stabbing and slightly fewer dick jokes. Hopefully they can pull off a more successful ending.

To Violet Wylde, for the warmth and constancy of your friendship.

About Hotline

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Dear Reader

Also by Quinn Anderson

About the Author

More like this

Oh, yes, Zack moaned, keep touching yourself just like that. You make me so hot.

He heard an answering grunt, but it seemed his client was too far gone to form actual words. He glanced at the clock at the corner of his desk. Eleven minutes and counting. He’d had this one on the phone for longer than most, but he needed to keep him there if he wanted to make any real money. He could hear the wet sound of lube and a hand moving over flesh. Zack’s cock twitched enviously, but he ignored it. He was working, after all.

I love the noises you make, he purred. You sound so sexy and desperate. What would you do to me if I were there right now? Would you fuck me until I couldn’t stand?

His client whimpered, and Zack bit back a curse. Shit. He’d been in the biz long enough to recognize that sound. His client was about to come, and there was little Zack could do to stop him. He briefly flirted with the idea of saying something to kill the mood. So, are you and your parents close? Were you bullied in high school? I’ve had this weird rash on my thigh for like a month now . . .

Tempting as it was, he discarded the idea. Not only would the client never call him again, but he’d probably hang up on him too. He mentally sighed and started drawing random symbols on the surface of his desk with an index finger. After a few more well-timed moans and an Oh, fuck yes, baby, he heard a startled groan, followed by heavy breathing. A second later, the line went dead.

Another one comes and goes. Zack huffed as he placed the phone back in its cradle. Part of him resented the fact that his clients seldom bothered to say good-bye. He understood why, though. If those extra five seconds caused the minute to roll over, they’d have to pay another $1.99. Good-byes just weren’t economical.

Zack turned to the ancient computer that took up the left half of his desk and squinted at the dim screen. The tracking system logged his calls incorrectly more often than not, and their commission rate wasn’t the best. Even working full-time, he couldn’t be blasé about losing a single minute. Everything seemed to be correct, however, so he typed his initials in the appropriate box and hit Enter.

Zack checked his clock again. It was a quarter past two in the morning, which meant he could go home soon. Not so soon that he couldn’t justify taking a quick break, however. None of his phone lines were blinking, and Colette hadn’t dropped off a new Murmur. No one would notice if he slipped away for a few minutes.

Zack stood up and stretched his arms above his head, rising onto the toes of his red Converse sneakers. His joints popped pleasantly, and the hem of his shirt rode up over his flat stomach. One of the major selling points of becoming a phone sex operator was the dress code, or lack thereof. Since his clients couldn’t see him, it didn’t matter if he showed up in street clothes. His boss certainly didn’t care, so long as he made money. It was Casual Friday all week long.

Zack poked his head out of his cubicle and surveyed the room. More cubicles and desks dotted the open space, but the similarities to a normal office ended there. Murmur Inc. was located in a disused recording studio. An assortment of old mixing consoles, audio workstations, and equalizers were piled haphazardly in the back. At night, the blue walls and olive carpet looked gray beneath the harsh fluorescent lighting. Zack preferred to work the afternoon-to-evening shift. When sunset rolled around, warm light flooded through the windows on the west side of the building, casting the office in gold and shadow. It created the perfect atmosphere for seduction.

Zack stepped out of his cubicle and glanced toward a desk that was two up and one over from his. To his immense pleasure, it was occupied. He strolled up to a woman with multiple facial piercings and shockingly purple hair that had been shaved on one side. She was perched on the edge of a desk identical to Zack’s, and seemed utterly absorbed in the task of filing her neon-green nails.

Zack waited for her to acknowledge him, but she just kept filing. Zack fought a smile and stepped closer. And closer. And closer, until their knees were nearly touching. The corner of her mouth twitched up, and Zack knew he’d won.

So, Alexa— he began, but she cut him off.

Don’t even think about it, Zack. Her deep voice was at odds with her petite frame. I’ve given you enough already.

Zack pressed his palms together in mock supplication. Please? Pretty please? You know I left my pack at home. Plus, if you come with me, I’ll tell you about this freaky caller I had.

We all get freaky callers, Alexa protested, but she tossed her nail file into the pencil holder on her desk and stood up. Fine. I’ll do it, but only because you look especially hot today.

Zack glanced down at himself. He was wearing his working on my car clothes: a black, fitted shirt and old jeans that sported several oil stains. He had to admit, he looked rugged. Darling, I’ll wear this every day if it’ll make you happy.

That won’t be necessary. Alexa opened the top drawer of her filing cabinet and extracted a pack of cigarettes. Zack was far from a regular smoker, but he indulged more often than he liked to admit. It was a combination of peer pressure—his coworkers all smoked—and the fact that he worked in the sex industry. Postcoital cigarettes were a fact of life at Murmur Inc.

Alexa gestured for him to follow and then weaved her way toward the exit. Zack fell into step behind her, keeping his eyes fixed on the back of her black hoodie. It was all he could do to block out the murmuring voices coming from the other cubicles. He was no prude—he couldn’t be in his line of work—but he had little desire to eavesdrop. The company Christmas party was already awkward enough.

Alexa reached the exit and shoved the metal doors open, revealing a darkened flight of stairs. Zack followed her down until they reached another door and then finally hit outside air. It was a clear, crisp autumn night, but Zack couldn’t see a single star. He’d been living in Los Angeles for over two decades, and he could only remember a handful of times that he’d really seen them. The city was a sprawling skeleton of concrete and metal. And, in his opinion, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Living here meant inhaling exhaust fumes and ordering salads with dressing on the side in the same breath.

Alexa broke him from his thoughts by handing him a cigarette.

Zack took it eagerly. Thank God. I was dying of boredom in there.

What a coincidence, Alexa said in an amused tone. I was dying for a nonsmoker to steal one of my cigarettes.

Zack rolled his eyes. I smoke plenty. He held up the cigarette as proof.

Yeah, when you’d rather wreck your lungs than be inside. That really says something about how much you love your job.

Alexa pulled a bubblegum-pink lighter from the pocket of her hoodie and lit up. Then she tossed it to Zack. He lit his own cigarette and handed the lighter back before taking a puff. The nicotine hit his bloodstream in a rush and made him feel dizzy. He could never quite decide if he liked the sensation or not. It was like being suddenly drunk for no reason.

Alexa noticed his unsteadiness. That proves it. Real smokers don’t still get dizzy from it. Not that I’m encouraging you.

All judgment and lung cancer aside, I can’t afford a regular habit.

Fair enough. So— she exhaled a plume of smoke —tell me about this alleged ‘freaky caller’ of yours.

Oh man, you’re never gonna believe this one, Zack began, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes. He wanted me to—

The door to the building swung open, and a man Zack vaguely recognized stepped outside.

Hey, Pete, Alexa greeted him, folding her arms over her chest. She flicked ash from the tip of her cigarette in a way that somehow looked artful. How’s your first week going?

It’s going, Pete said as he lit a cigarette of his own and shuffled closer. He looked like he was in his early twenties, same as Zack, but where Zack was tall and muscular, Pete was all elbows and knees. He had clear blue eyes and a baby-soft complexion, however, which made Zack stare longer than was necessary.

A newb, huh? Zack asked. Welcome to the glamorous phone sex industry. He eyed Pete’s skin again and rubbed his own stubbly jaw. Maybe he should start waxing.

Yeah, I just started Monday. I have to say, I had no idea what to expect, and after three days, I still don’t.

You never will, Alexa said cheerfully. Every day I walk into the office thinking I’ve heard it all, and every day I’m proven wrong.

Tell me about it, Pete said, his eyes growing wide. He glanced over his shoulder and then leaned toward them. Just now, I had a client who wanted me to take a phone into—

The bathroom, Zack and Alexa finished simultaneously.

Pete looked startled and embarrassed. Um, yeah. How’d you know?

That’s a pretty common request, Alexa answered. I don’t know why, but men love to listen to you pee.

"Just wait until you get into the really colorful shit, Zack said, slapping Pete on the back. He clipped a shoulder blade and winced. It was like hitting a shard of glass. Did you and Colette set your boundaries?"

Yeah, Pete said. It seemed sort of unnecessary. I mean, no one is really going to call in and ask for—

Yes, they will, Alexa and Zack interrupted again.

Trust us, Alexa continued. Those boundaries are there for your mental well-being. They only stop about half the callers, but you’ll be grateful that you don’t have to deal with that half. What did you pick?

Pete shifted from foot to foot. Um, incest, rape fantasies, underage, and sadism.

Not bad. Zack cocked his head. You might want to be more specific about sadism, though. You’d think that would cover a variety of kinks, but if you don’t list something by name, clients will assume it’s on the table. I’d specify knife and blood play to start. We get a lot of requests for those.

Since you’re dishing out advice anyway, there is one thing I wanted to ask about. I don’t mean to sound rude, but I was expecting the people who worked here to be . . . He gestured vaguely.

Young? Alexa suggested.

Hot? Zack supplied.

Uh, not exactly. I guess I’m surprised that most of the people here look like I’d see them at the grocery store with their kids. Why is everyone so . . . normal, I guess?

You don’t have to be a model to be a PSO. You just have to have the right voice, Zack answered. There’s one woman who works here who’s a grandmother, and she’s one of our most popular operators because she sounds like a giggly sorority girl. Though being hot certainly doesn’t hurt. Zack winked.

Pete blushed and cleared his throat. Fair enough. Out of curiosity, does anyone service women callers? I’m signed up exclusively for men, and all the people I’ve spoken to only take men as well.

Nope, Zack responded. The ladies are sadly excluded, and not just by our company either. Most hotlines won’t do women. Every now and then we’ll get a client who wants his wife or girlfriend to listen in, but otherwise this is an old boys’ club. Zack held up an indignant finger. As a feminist, I, for one, am outraged.

Alexa punched him on the arm. To be fair, women almost never call us, but if they do, it’s company policy to turn them away. It’s an outdated rule that needs to change, in my humble opinion. I know for a fact that a good portion of our colleagues are willing to take female clients, myself included.

I’m not, though, Zack intoned solemnly. I think women are icky.

Alexa hit him again, and Zack rubbed his arm. Jesus, your fists are like tiny rocks. He turned back to Pete. Want to know a little trick I learned?

Pete nodded.

"Clients are much easier to deal with once you realize they fall into four basic categories: flashers, first-timers, fetishists, and freaks. Flashers only want to stay on the phone for a minute or two—long enough to hear a few dirty lines and put their hands on their dicks—and then they hang up. Learn to identify these, and you can spare yourself from wasting energy on them. They’re not going to pay your bills.

First-timers are basically like clingy prom dates. They want fantasies and fake intimacy. Mostly, they’re lonely men who want to feel connected to someone, even if it’s just a voice on the other end of the line. Oh, and they never know what the hell they’re doing, so if you let them bumble around for a bit, you can rack up a few extra minutes.

Zack paused and grinned. Pete had pulled a little notebook and pencil out of his back pocket and was jotting down notes. Finally, someone appreciates my genius! So, next are the fetishists. These are people who probably watched too much porn in their formative years. Vanilla just doesn’t cut it for them anymore. Fetishists want things like footjobs, pegging, and cuckolding. Most of all, they want it rough. The rougher the better.

How are they money-wise? Pete asked.

Good. They’re most PSOs’ bread and butter. If they want an involved scenario, you can sometimes keep them on the phone for hours, or so my colleagues tell me. My record is forty-eight minutes with a guy who wanted me to invent a third man and describe him fucking me while he watched. I called him Bob. Zack crushed his cig out and threw it in a nearby trash can. Last but certainly not least, you have my personal favorite: the freaks. Now, here’s where the job takes a turn down a dark road. The freaks are the reason we set boundaries. I’m not knocking anyone’s sexual preferences, bear in mind. We all like a pair of handcuffs and some hot wax every now and then. But these guys don’t deal in your everyday, run-of-the-mill fetishes.

I’m sorry, Pete interrupted, but isn’t the phrase ‘run-of-the-mill fetishes’ sort of an oxymoron?

Jesus, you really are new. Give it a week, kid. You’ll learn. As I was saying, the freaks are the ones who want the off-limits stuff. I had a guy the other day who wanted me to pretend to be a young vixen while he fucked me.

That doesn’t sound so odd.

Vixens aren’t hot women. They’re female foxes.

Oh Christ. Pete looked green.

Exactly. They’re not all as bad as that, and sometimes if you explain to them that you’re unwilling to play out a certain scenario, they’ll pick something else, but you have to be firm. These guys call thirty PSOs a day in the hopes of finding one who will agree to do the scene with them. Plus, even if you do get them to pick something else, the alternative isn’t always better. I have a regular who likes for me to listen while he has sex with various baked goods. Zack snorted. Once, he didn’t wait long enough for this pastry to cool, and when he stuck his dick in—

I get the picture, Pete said. His color had mostly returned, but he still looked skittish.

Zack felt a stab of guilt. Look, you’re going to get requests for unconventional things. That’s just part of the job. Your clients aren’t trying to upset you, though. Most of them are lonely or horny or experiencing some perfectly human need to talk to another person. In that sense, what we do is kind of noble, right? You get to help people. And hey, if the sex happens to be hot, it’s win-win.

Alexa smirked. Look at you, passing on words of wisdom to the probie. She took one last drag on her cigarette before dropping it to the concrete and grinding it out beneath her heel. Going soft on me, Hall?

Not a chance, Nichols.

Well, thanks for the advice. Pete flicked his cigarette butt into the bushes. Though I could have lived a long, happy life never knowing any of that.

You would have learned eventually. I was just speeding up the process.

Just then, the door to the building opened, and a familiar blonde head popped out.

Shit. Busted.

Why am I not surprised? the woman said as she approached. Despite her youthful good looks, she had the scathing glare of a middle-aged mother, which she turned full force on Zack and Alexa. Her designer clothes and tasteful makeup suggested money and class. There’s only half an hour left in your shifts, so of course you decided it was time for a break. Pete tried to edge away, but she snapped her head toward him. I expect these two to slack off, but you’re new. Shouldn’t you be on your best behavior?

Pete stammered out an apology and scuttled back into the building, slamming the door behind him.

Colette! Zack gushed. You look particularly stunning this evening. Did you do something new with your hair?

Yes, but I doubt you actually noticed the difference. If you’d be so kind as to escort me inside, I need to have a word with you.

A frisson of anxiety rattled up Zack’s spine. He didn’t think Colette would fire him, but then he’d also thought smartphones were just a fad. He glanced at Alexa, and she gave him an almost imperceptible shrug. Colette was holding the door open for him and tapping her foot. He had no choice but to follow her inside.

When they were back in the office, Zack noticed a bunch of people hanging around the door to one of the back rooms, which almost always meant a photo shoot was going on. Some of the entertainers were cool with letting others observe their technique, and it always drew a crowd. Is someone having a session this late?

We’re just recording some new samples for the website. Our live cams haven’t been getting as many hits this month, so it’s time to spice things up.

How’s that going? Zack asked, partially because he was curious and partially to delay their conversation.

Fairly well, I suppose. It’s a new venture for us, and I’m willing to give it time. I’ve been in this business long enough to know that you should go where technology leads.

If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you been in the biz?

"Circa the Behind the Green Door era. I’ve seen a lot in my day."

Zack glanced at Colette surreptitiously. He’d never asked how old she was and likely wouldn’t still be alive if he had. She didn’t look much older than forty but some of the things she said made him think she could be his grandmother.

Zack shivered. That was a terrifying concept.

Colette moved to face him. As it just so happens, the company is precisely what I want to talk to you about. Reconsider my offer. It wasn’t a question.

Zack shook his head. I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in working with anything other than the phones. I know the live cam girls make a lot of money, and some of our new films have seemed . . . titillating, but I don’t want my face plastered all over the internet.

Why not? You’re not the shy type, and from what you’ve told me, your parents don’t even know how to turn a computer on, let alone use it to watch porn. Colette looked him up and down, but there was no heat in her gaze. She was merely assessing a potential product. If I had your body, I’d take my clothes off every chance I got. Plus, you have the whole bad-boy look down pat, and I’ve actually heard women around the office describe your eyes as ‘stormy.’ That is a bad-romance-novel level of hotness.

True, Zack said cheekily, but I’m still not interested.

You’d be a star, Colette cooed seductively. If you’d broaden your horizons a bit and market yourself to women, you could double your audience.

I’m not exactly into women, though. It’s hard enough for me to fake the phone stuff sometimes, and that’s with other men.

Colette shrugged. It was worth a try. The offer’s there if you ever change your mind. Think about how much money you could make.

I know, I know—Zack held up his hands in surrender—and it’s about time we as a society gave the ladies their due, but I’m not your man.

Then you need to step up your game on the phones, Colette snapped. She’d gone from simpering solicitation to business mode in two seconds flat. "Your average call lasts just ten minutes. That’s half as long as my other employees, including the new kids. Everyone else has at least five regular clients. You’re lucky if you can keep two for a month at a time. I don’t know if you think this job is beneath you or if you’re just not trying hard enough, but with a voice like yours, you should have a steady following by now."

Zack started to answer, but then he faltered. In truth, he wasn’t serious about this job. He didn’t market himself or have his own website or offer special services like most of his coworkers did. They thought of themselves as independent contractors who were developing a brand. Zack wasn’t anywhere near that level. He’d gone into this hoping to pay his bills for a few months while he looked for a more mainstream career. Fortunately or unfortunately, he’d turned out to have a knack for it that allowed him to coast by with minimal effort.

I’ll try harder, he said after a guilty pause. He stared at the ground so he wouldn’t have to see the disappointed look on Colette’s face. I just need to focus.

See that you do, she said acerbically. You have a Murmur waiting on your desk. Don’t half ass it just because your shift ends soon. If you have to stay late, do it. We’ll call it even for that unauthorized break you took.

Zack nodded and made his way back to his cubicle. A single white sheet of computer paper rested between his desk phone and a coffee mug filled with unused pencils.

Most clients were either return callers or people who’d called in on a whim, but a few times a day they got a Murmur: a client who had a scenario in mind but hadn’t requested a particular PSO. Depending on what the client wanted, he’d be given to either whoever was available or whoever was best suited for the job.

Zack rested his elbows on his desk and scanned the Murmur. The client had requested a male, so far so obvious, with a deep voice and a proclivity—Zack made a mental note to google that later—for thinking on his feet.

Well, Zack understood why they’d given the Murmur to him. He was far from the best PSO out there, but he did have a reputation for being unflappable. One day Colette had asked him to train some newbies. He was supposed to read through a script with them, but instead he’d let them conference in on one of his calls as a joke.

It wouldn’t have been a big deal, except the client kept changing the scene every few minutes like he couldn’t make up his mind. Zack had jumped from being a student seducing his teacher to an English butler servicing his master in true transatlantic fashion. He’d even adopted a horrible fake accent that everyone agreed was the funniest part. Thankfully, the newbies thought to mute their phones, but the sound of their laughter still aroused suspicion around the office, and soon, everyone knew about it. Colette was furious when she found out, but

Reviews for Hotline

[anniene · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Didn't finish, got halfway.
Appreciated the educational aspects in regards to phone sex industry.
But for me, it just got too unrealistic.

[Azula Alwayslies · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book was the absolute best. I am so in love with the characters and their love. I’m so grateful that I read this book. I learnt so many things in the aspect of relationships and I don’t think I could forget this book if I tried. Loved it to the T, every single moment, Couldn’t stop reading for a second. The main characters where described so beautifully. I’m truly happy now. Give this book a read yourself.

[Sweet cupcake · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Interesting premise. But the story(-teller) was immature and all over the place.