Sarah Hannah Brown, phone sex operator extraordinaire, was having just another regular night in our little kingdom of chaos. The apartment smelled faintly of sesame and soy sauce from the Chinese takeout Zach and I had devoured earlier, and the usual clutter of mismatched mugs and scattered scripts painted a perfect picture of our lives: messy, a bit disheveled, but entirely ours.
Zach lounged on the ratty couch in his pajamas, scrolling through his phone with that same mischievous grin I knew all too well—the grin that said he was probably texting his ex or plotting some ridiculous prank. Despite his recent heartbreak, he carried on with his trademark humor, as if laughter could stitch together the pieces of his broken heart. He glanced over at me as I adjusted my headset, ready for another night of the absurd, the funny, and the downright dirty.
“So, did you miss Julian’s call again?” Zach teased, nudging me with an elbow. I shot him a glare, the corners of my mouth twitching into a smirk.
“Maybe I did. Or maybe I just didn’t feel like answering a guy who can't remember my name or stop talking about his mother,” I retorted, settling into my chair. My leggings stretched comfortably as I leaned forward, fingers poised over the keyboard, waiting for the next caller to ping through.
Then, suddenly, the line lit up with a new number I didn't recognize. I hesitated for a moment before accepting the call, my curiosity piqued.
“Hello?” I answered, my voice a mix of professionalism and guarded warmth.
“Hey, is this Sarah?” came the smooth, genuine voice on the other end. It was Nathan, though I didn’t know his name yet. There was something different about him—something kind and real that cut through the usual noise of my calls. He didn’t make me feel like just another voice on the other end of the line.
As we talked, his charm was effortless, his kindness disarming. I found myself uncurling parts of myself I usually kept tightly locked away. He wasn’t just interested in the script, the fantasy, the sex talk—he wanted to know me, Sarah Hannah Brown, beyond the operator persona.
But beneath his warmth, I sensed a shadow, a secret clinging to him that whispered caution. Nathan’s past was a closed book, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to read between those lines. Yet, he pursued me with a sincerity that made it impossible to pull away, despite the nagging voice in my head warning me that if something feels too perfect, it probably is.
“You’ve got me curious, Nathan,” I found myself admitting, a blend of hope and hesitation swirling in my chest.
He chuckled softly, a sound that lingered in my ears long after the call ended. “I’m glad. I promise there’s more to me than you think.”
As the line went dead, I leaned back, the buzz of the apartment around me suddenly quieter, like it was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next in this unexpected new story unfolding before me.