I stared at the screen, my heart pounding in my chest. The cursor blinked mockingly, waiting for me to input the payment details. My fingers hovered over the keypad, trembling slightly. It couldn’t be. But the address was right there, staring back at me in black and white. 123 Elm Street. Tommy’s place. My nineteen-year-old neighbor with the lazy grin and jeans that hugged his ass like a second skin. What the hell was he doing calling my phone sex line?

I’d started this whole thing as a last resort. Desperation had driven me to it. The bills were piling up, and my job at the bookstore wasn’t cutting it. I’d seen an ad online, promising easy money for women with “a voice that could seduce.” I’d laughed at first, but then I’d thought about it. I’d always been told I had a husky voice, a voice that could make men melt. Why not use it?

The training had been surprisingly thorough. They’d taught me how to modulate my tone, how to whisper fantasies into the void, how to make strangers on the other end of the line believe I was everything they’d ever wanted. I’d been good at it, too. Maybe too good.

But this… this was different. This was Tommy. The boy who mowed my lawn sometimes, the one who always flirted shamelessly, his eyes lingering on my cleavage a little too long. The one who made me feel things I hadn’t felt in years.

My finger twitched towards the “end call” button. I should hang up. Pretend this never happened. But curiosity, that damnable, insatiable curiosity, held me back. What did he want? What kind of fantasies did a boy like Tommy have?

Taking a deep breath, I steadied my voice. “Hello, darling,” I purred, my usual professional tone slipping into something more personal, more dangerous. “Tell me, what brings you to my line tonight?”

There was a pause, then a nervous chuckle. “Uh, hey. I didn’t think it’d actually be… someone like you.”

Someone like me? What did that mean? I bit my lip, a thrill coursing through me. “Someone like me? And what kind of someone is that, sweetheart?”

“Someone… experienced,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Someone who knows what she’s doing.”

Experienced. The word hung in the air between us, heavy with implication. I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs. My silk robe fell open slightly, revealing a hint of lace. I wasn’t on camera, but the act of seduction was as much for me as it was for him.

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing,” I murmured, letting my voice drop to a sultry growl. “Now, tell me, what are you looking for tonight? What do you need from me?”

Another pause, longer this time. I could almost hear him squirming on the other end. “I… I want to be dominated,” he blurted out, his voice cracking slightly. “I want you to tell me what to do.”

Dominated. Interesting. I’d played the role of the dominatrix before, but never with someone I knew. Never with someone so young, so close to home. The taboo of it sent a shiver down my spine.

“Is that so?” I drawled, letting a hint of amusement creep into my voice. “And what makes you think you can handle me, sweetheart? I’m not just any woman, you know.”

“I… I know,” he stammered. “That’s why I called. I’ve seen you, around the building. You’re… you’re beautiful. And I know you’re older, but that just makes it hotter. You’re so confident, so in control.”

Older. The word stung, but only for a moment. He was right, of course. I was older. But I was also experienced, and right now, that was a weapon I could wield with deadly precision.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, darling,” I purred, leaning forward, my breasts straining against the silk. “But talk is cheap. Are you ready to put your money where your mouth is?”

“Yes,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire. “Anything. Just tell me what to do.”

I smiled, a slow, predatory smile. This was going to be fun.

“Alright, Tommy,” I said, letting his name roll off my tongue like a promise. “First things first. I want you to stand up. Slowly. And tell me what you’re wearing.”

There was a rustling sound, then the creak of a chair. “I’m… I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt,” he said, his voice shaking slightly.

“Jeans, hmm?” I murmured, picturing him in my mind’s eye. “Tight ones, I hope. I like a man who takes care of his body.”

“They’re… they’re pretty tight,” he admitted, a hint of pride creeping into his voice.

“Good boy,” I cooed. “Now, I want you to unbutton your jeans. Slowly. And tell me how it feels.”

There was a long pause, then the sound of fabric sliding against skin. “It’s… it’s hot,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. “I can feel the air on my skin.”

“That’s it,” I encouraged, my voice low and hypnotic. “Let the air caress you. Imagine it’s my breath, teasing you, tantalizing you.”

“Oh God,” he moaned, his voice cracking. “That’s… that’s so hot.”

I smiled, a wicked gleam in my eye. This was too easy. Too delicious. “Now, Tommy, I want you to slide your hand inside your jeans. Slowly. And tell me what you feel.”

Another pause, then a sharp intake of breath. “I… I can feel myself,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… it’s hard.”

“Hard for me, darling?” I purred, leaning back in my chair, my robe falling open further, revealing the swell of my breasts. “Tell me, how hard are you?”

“So hard,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “I’ve never been this hard before.”

“Good boy,” I repeated, my voice dripping with approval. “Now, I want you to stroke yourself. Slowly. And tell me how it feels.”

The line went silent except for the sound of his ragged breathing. Then, “It’s… it’s amazing. I can feel my cock throbbing in my hand. It’s so big, so hard.”

“Big, hmm?” I murmured, a smile playing on my lips. “I like a man with a big cock. Makes me wonder what else you’ve got going for you.”

“I… I don’t know,” he panted, his voice desperate. “Just tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.”

Anything. The word hung in the air, heavy with possibility. I leaned forward, my breasts spilling out of my robe, my nipples tight with arousal. “Anything, hmm? Even if it’s a little… taboo?”

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Anything.”

I smiled, a slow, dangerous smile. “Alright, Tommy. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to go to your window. The one that faces my apartment. And I want you to stroke yourself while you watch me.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, then a frantic, “You can see me?”

“Oh, I can see you,” I purred, standing up, my robe falling to the floor. I was naked now, my body on full display. “And I want you to watch me, too. Watch me touch myself while you touch yourself. Let’s see who can make the other one cum first.”

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, his voice breaking. “I’m already so close.”

“Not yet, darling,” I teased, walking towards my own window, the sheer curtains billowing slightly in the breeze. “We’re just getting started.”

I could see his silhouette now, a dark shape against the glass. He was stroking himself furiously, his movements desperate, needy. I smiled, a wicked gleam in my eye, and began to touch myself, my fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles around my clit.