Janelle Denison - Wilde Thing

"Yeah, I really did," he muttered. "And I can't begin to tell you how badly I needed that, since I've been walking around with an erection ever since you left my office this afternoon."

She knew exactly how he felt, because her body was still in that tense state of discontent, burning as though she were in the throes of a growing fever.

"By the way, your shift is over."

"Oh." She glanced at her watch and realized it was three minutes after midnight. Surely he wasn't going to leave her so… unsatisfied?

"I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

Guess so. She blinked, feeling entirely disappointed and disillusioned by his abrupt farewell after what had just happened between them. "Sure."

Disconnecting the call, she took off her headset and straightened her clothes, unable to believe the rogue had slaked his own lust and left her unsatisfied and completely and totally worked up!

Damn him, anyway, she thought irritably. She tingled all over, every part of her quivering with intemperate need. Blowing out an upward stream of breath that ruffled her bangs, she wondered how she was going to be able to make it all the way home without giving her own body the release it was clamoring for.

She had no choice but to wait, she knew, because she had a feeling it would take more than just one quick self-induced orgasm to satiate the fire smoldering inside her.

Forcing a semblance of calm and double-checking her blouse and skirt to make sure everything was back in order, Liz grabbed her spritz fan and purse and stepped outside her office. The outer hallway was filled with echoing sounds of other operators still servicing customers behind their own closed doors as she made her way back toward the front of the establishment, where Doreen, the night manager, told her to check in after her shift was over.

The front reception area was plush and well furnished, with nicely upholstered chairs, and recognizable artwork hanging on the cream-colored walls. No one who strolled inside the office and took a casual glance around would ever guess what really went on down the hall and behind all those closed doors.

Doreen, a pretty forty-something woman with short brunette hair and a slender figure dressed in designer clothes, sat at the main workstation. A large computer system and a flickering screen gathering caller and employee information seemed to be her primary source of tracking the evening's business.

Behind Doreen, in another partitioned corner of the spacious room, four switchboard operators worked steadily and efficiently to connect calls as they came in, and passed on detailed information and reports to the main network system. Judging by the equipment and latest technology they were using, it was easy to surmise that The Ultimate Fantasy was no rinky-dink company operating on a shoestring budget. No, Antonio and his other partners, whoever they were, took their business very seriously.

Liz came up to the counter, the jingling sound of the keys in her hand catching the other woman's attention. "I'm done for the night."

"Give me a sec to sign you out," Doreen said, and executed a few quick keystrokes on the computer, which prompted another piece of equipment to print out sheets of paper. She gathered the copies and scanned the numerous pages as the machine continued to produce more documents. "For a first-timer, you sure did catch on quick. Nice job on that last call. You had him on the line for over forty minutes."

Liz felt compelled to offer an explanation for that excessively long call. "He was very lonely and just needed someone to talk to."

Doreen laughed and rolled her eyes, her expression one of pure cynicism. "Yeah, every once in a while one of those bleeding-heart types gets suckered in, which helps you make those extra bonuses."

Liz continued to play along and act like an enthusiastic employee. "He promised to call back, so if I'm lucky, I can count on him to fatten my paycheck."

"That you can." Doreen slid one of the papers onto the counter and handed her a pen. "Sign this report and you can be on your way."

Glancing at the document, Liz tried to decipher the various columns, numbers, and information on the statement-one she wasn't about to approve with her signature until she knew exactly what the printout meant. "What's this for?"

"It's a log of your hours, time spent on the phone with a customer, and the last four digits of the client's phone number. Just basic tracking information on our end." She opened a file folder with Liz's name and employee number on the tab. "Once you sign the report, it goes into your personnel file, which then goes to Antonio when he gets in tomorrow morning. He reviews all the statements and transcripts of employee calls before approving payment."

"Transcripts?" A chill slithered down Liz's spine when she thought about her conversation with Steve being copied, which had included mention of Valerie, and way too much familiarity between the two of them before they'd gotten to all the sexy stuff.

Doreen nodded. "All calls are monitored and recorded."

That's illegal, Liz wanted to say, but bit back the response, certain that Doreen wouldn't appreciate her being a stickler for constitutional rights and legalities when the company obviously wasn't. "So, all my calls tonight were recorded?"

"Every one of them."

Liz felt her legs go weak. Why hadn't Steve warned her of such a possibility?

The older woman gathered up the last of the pages that had printed out, and absently glanced through them. "I know it seems a bit unnerving at first, but Antonio insists on reading the transcripts. Don't worry; you'll get used to it, and after a while, you won't even think about big brother listening in."

Dread tightened Liz's chest, and with a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, she signed her name to the report and left the building, grateful for the night watchman standing guard outside the building, keeping an eye on the parking lot and watching to make sure she made it to her vehicle without incident.

No sooner had she gotten into her car when her cell phone rang. Frowning, she dug the unit out of her purse, and though she didn't recognize the number on the display, she connected the call, wondering for a hopeful moment if it was Valerie.

"Hello?" she answered anxiously.

"It's me." Steve's deep voice rumbled through the line, infusing her with a combination of disappointment and relief. "I just wanted to make sure you made it to your car safely."

"I'm here now." Sitting in the darkened interior of the vehicle, she stared up to the third floor of the building. The tinting on the windows muted the lighting and gave her brief glimpses of shadowed movements behind the plate glass. "I'm glad you called, because there's something I need to tell you."

"Is everything okay?"

The obvious concern in his tone curled through her and once again made her grateful that she wasn't in on this alone. "I don't know. When my shift was over, Doreen, the night manager, made me sign a statement logging my hours, time spent on the phone with each individual client, and part of their phone number. They also print out transcripts of customer calls, which go to Antonio for him to read and review before approving payment."

"That must be his way of choosing the clients he wants to invite to The Ultimate Fantasy parties."

"I'm sure it is." How could he seem so calm when she felt so frantic? And how could he not understand the implications of their intimate chat tonight? "Steve… we talked about Valerie, and our phone call was recorded." Her voice was threaded with both frustration and fear.

"No, it wasn't," he replied matter-of-factly. "I wasn't sure how this business operated, so I took precautions and put a scrambler on my phone."

She exhaled hard. At least he'd been thinking on his feet, which was all part of his job, but they could no longer use the protection of a scrambler. "You have to take it off. Especially if the time we spend on the phone and the length and content of our conversations is what determines who Antonio extends invitations to."