The Voice - Part Eight

(warning: contains non-consensual sex)

The more often Lester spoke to Sonia, the more she took over his life. He tried to imagine her in minute detail. Paging through the magazines, he tried to find bits and pieces of women that, in composite, would approximate the way he was sure she looked. But the magazines didn't help. All the women in them, with their splayed legs and their thrusting, enormous breasts, simply didn't look right.

They were too brazen, too devouring, too kittenish. None of them could be Sonia. And so he'd built her out of his imagination: willowy, demure, soft, with petite little breasts, and long legs. He imagined her hands, her fingers, wrapping around his cock. Long and delicate, a little nervous perhaps.

After months of wondering who his Sonia really was, he decided he had to know for sure. The billing name that appeared on the phone bills was "Fantasy Hotline." Lester looked up the registration of the company, and got the address of its offices. He went there and found that it was a small office in a building just off High Holborn. The next day he returned, carrying a clipboard and a box of photocopy paper.

He had a delivery of copy paper, he said, for Fantasy Hotline. The woman behind the desk clucked her tongue. "They've sent you to the wrong place again, I'm afraid. Our telecoms operations are in Islington."

"Oh," said Lester, feigning confusion. He looked down at his clipboard, paging through paper. "I don't have that address - can you give it to me?"

The woman at the desk looked dubious. "I'm not really supposed to give that address out. Security, you know."

Lester thought for a moment and then smiled and shrugged. "Oh well, I'll go back to the warehouse and tell them they've buggered the delivery up." He turned and began to open the office door, struggling with the box as he did.

"Wait! This is silly," said the receptionist. She smiled at him."Hang about, and I'll write it down for you."

"Really? That's very kind of you, love. It's a long drive back just for an address." Lester looked grateful, beginning to enjoy the role.

The woman wrote the address down on a sticky note, came out from behind her desk, walked towards him. She was rather short and plump and her skirt was very tight. Lester could hear her stockings whisper as her thighs rubbed together as she walked. She gave him a grin and stuck the note on the clipboard. Long red-nailed fingertips smoothed the adhesive paper down.

She winked at him. "Aren't I nice?" she said flirtatiously.

Lester couldn't keep his eyes off her glinting red talons. "Thank," he murmured absently. His heart was racing and he felt his testicles pull up into his groin. Wrestling his way out through the glass door, he fled to the lift.

 

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