AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ten
Agatha
Igritted my teeth, thumb hovering over the send button. A single tap and Arnold would have a piece of my mind. But no. I mashed delete instead, watching my anger vanish one painful backspace at a time. The message, full of words I'd never dare to say out loud, dissolved into nothing.
"Damn it." My voice was a hoarse whisper in the empty room.
The phone flew from my grip, a soft thud on the couch cushions as if it, too, was tired of the drama. I stormed off to the kitchen, slippers slapping hard against the floor, the sound echoing my frustration. Food. I needed to make something, do anything to keep my hands busy and my head clear of Arnold and his damned accusations.
"Cheating?" I muttered, yanking open the fridge. "Right, because that's what I do."
Pots clanged, and the stove fired up with a click and whoosh. Scrambling eggs, I tried focusing on the sizzle, not the simmering anger. I shoveled them onto a plate, fork clanking against ceramic. I stabbed my fork into a clump and bit into them as I carried the plate to the table. Breakfast for dinner. Classic.
Can't he see it's just work? Just a job? The eggs tasted bland, and no amount of hot sauce would bring them to life.
I plopped down at the small kitchen table where Arnold and I shared those awkward but sweet breakfasts after he'd spent the night. Those memories did nothing to soothe the sting of his doubt. How could he not trust me?
Guess it's not easy dating a phone sex operator. I scraped the last of my meal around the plate. "Especially for a guy like him."
I leaned back, the chair creaking under the shift of weight. Could we even get past this? This thing between us was real, wasn't it? I thought it was.
"Come on, Agatha, think." I rubbed at my temples, wishing the answer would just pop into my head, bright and clear. But nothing came, just a heavy silence and the faint hum of the refrigerator.
Tomorrow. I'll go see him at work tomorrow.
Pushing away from the table, I trudged to the couch, leaving the dirty dish in the sink, another thing left unresolved. It was time to work.
After digging it out of the cushions, I slouched in front of my phone, the glow from the screen doing nothing to warm the chill that had settled deep in my bones. The silky robe felt like a costume now, heavy and foreign against my skin. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating before I forced them to tap out the login.
"Time to be Angel," I murmured, but the name tasted bitter. I clicked into the waiting session, and my client's alias flashed on the screen: HotRod6969. An eye-roll almost cracked my facade. He'd be expecting sultry tones and dirty promises, not the jumbled mess of emotions rattling around inside me.
"Hey there, HotRod." My voice slipped into its work mode, velvety smooth. "What's your fantasy tonight?"
His reply came quick, laden with desire. I responded on cue, words flowing without thought. They used to feel empowering, these exchanges, like I was in control. Not tonight. Tonight, they were hollow, my mind spinning back to Arnold. His hurt eyes, his accusations. They stung worse than any slap.
"Harder, Angel. Tell me how much you want it."
"God, yes, HotRod. I can't get enough." The lies slid off my tongue, easy as breathing. But there was no passion behind them, just a gnawing emptiness.
The session ended with his satisfied moan and a hefty tip. Money for acting like everything was fine. If only.
I sank back in my chair, tension winding tighter in my shoulders. Arnold's face haunted me, his disappointment a weight pressing down. And here I was, doing the one thing he wished I wouldn't. It wasn't cheating, not really, but it sure felt like betrayal.
Need to clear my head. Where's the damn wine when I needed it?
My decision was sudden and impulsive. A leftover impulse from my wilder days before Arnold. The glory hole at the truck stop was a place where I used to find release with no strings attached.
I grabbed my keys, skipping the usual care I took with my appearance. No makeup to hide behind, just me, Agatha, not Angel. My heart thudded, a mix of fear and something darker urging me on. I needed this, some kind of escape from the confusion and guilt.
The familiar neon sign flickered as I approached, its garish light cutting through the night. I pushed open the door, the scent of stale smoke and desperation hitting me full force. It was a world away from the life I'd been building, from the man who might still be waiting for me if we could just figure things out.
A quick glance around, no familiar faces. Good. I didn't need anyone to recognize me, complicating things further. I slipped into the room, locking the door behind me.
It felt like stepping back in time, the small space both suffocating and strangely comforting. The wall loomed in front of me, the hole gaping. This was it, anonymity in its purest form.
And then it happened. The sound of a zipper, followed by a shadow cast against the wall. An offering presented through the hole, blunt and expectant. I froze, every nerve ending, screaming for me to flee.
"Can't do this," I whispered, the words barely audible over my racing heartbeat.
