Dirty Bad Strangers(4)

By: Jade West

“Oh, God, let’s get the violins out,” Chelsea said. “Just because we said you could probably do with losing a bit of weight, don’t make us into demon bitches. You’ve been acting like a slut, and we called you out on it. It’s out in the open now, let’s move on.”

I stood mute. Dumbfounded.

“It’s not just the dancing, or the sex, or the drinking...” Chelsea added. “You’ve changed in London. The new job as well... who seriously does sex chatline for a living? I mean, sure, as a side thing, but what about a real job?”

“A real job?! Like your real job?!”

“Modelling is a real job,” Chelsea said.

“I’m not even getting into this,” I said. The tears were pricking again. I itched to tell them to get fucking stuffed, ached to offload two barrels straight for them, and tell them how it really was.

I’ve always been curvy, but I’ve never felt fat, and sure as hell never felt ugly. My parents always taught me that being beautiful came from the inside as well as out. They taught me to appreciate being different. Taught me to value the green of my eyes, and the rich copper tones in my hair. Taught me that my freckles made me different, and pretty, and cute. Taught me that it’s ok to dance like nobody’s watching, that it’s ok to feel comfortable in your own skin.

They didn’t teach me about sex. That came along all on its own.

Nobody encouraged the need in me for sex with strangers. The dark calling to be taken by men I didn’t know. Multiple men I didn’t know. Rough, hot, sweaty brutal men I didn’t know, who’d treat me like a dirty girl and have me any way they wanted.

That was all from me.

“Don’t let’s bloody fall out over this,” Chelsea groaned. “We’re trying to help.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’ll get a cab home.”

“Don’t be like that,” she said. “Just tone it down, ok? That’s all we’re asking.”

I squeezed Tessa’s arm on the way past, horrified to find her as pale as I was. There were some words I didn’t catch, and Tessa was after me, following me through to the main doors with no sign of blondie in tow.

My tears were flowing by the time she caught up with me.

“Christ, Gem, I’m sorry. That was a right fucking pig’s ear back there.”

“Enlightening...” I said.

“You know what she’s like. Anything over a size minus zero can’t possibly be desirable, nobody really thinks that. She means well, you know she does. She’s just worried about you.”

“Yeah, well, I was doing just fine before all that shit.”

“Forget it, then. Forget she said anything.”

“I intend to,” I said. “It’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard.”

She pulled me into a hug, but I was tense. “I’m sorry for my part in it.” I knew she was, too. Poor Tessa always gets dragged into Chelsea’s shit. “Shall I come with you? We could get takeout and watch late night TV.”

I shook my head. “I’ll grab the late hour at work. It’s your first Saturday off in weeks, enjoy it.”

“Only if you’re sure...”

I smiled. “I’m good. I’m fine. I’ll forget all about it once the pervs start calling.”

Only I didn’t forget about it.


Chapter Two


I made it home with just enough time to fire up my laptop for the one a.m. shift. There was no way on this planet Chelsea would let Tessa home before four, so I settled down on the sofa to log into Lust Line’s internal messenger. Sheena was on supervisor shift tonight.

RS443 Gemma: How are the lines, Shee? Shall I log in?

I watched the typing icon flash.

RS337 Sheena: You’re a superstar. Lines are crazy.

I signed into the main system, waiting for my status to change to LIVE. My handset was at my side, battery fully charged, and I was ready, pushing aside all the shit at the club and settling myself into my role.

Lucy. Twenty-one years old. Slim. Blonde. Cute, perky little tits. Interests include jilling off to men on the phone, hitting the gym every morning, and dance. Lucy loves to dance. Gotta have some truth amidst the lies, at least. Lucy is a kinky bitch, into exactly the same fetishes as the caller, whomever he may be. Uncanny, they say, but there’s nothing supernatural about it. Our client’s numbers are logged on the system, meaning we’re able to make notes against the regulars’ files. All the while they are listening to our husky pre-recorded intro, we are scoping out their previous call notes to get our conversation just right. Time is money, and the longer they talk the more we get paid. A good chatline operator will keep them talking all night and keep them coming back for more.

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