Another tumblr prompt: Phone sex when Baxter's in London with Cora and Molesley's left at the house alone as the rest of the staff went to the pictures.
I will confess that I've been terrified of writing phone sex since forever and this is probably terrible.
"I wish I could feel you next to me."
There was something different in her voice as she said, he could tell as much even at the other end of the telephone line, something beyond wistfulness. It was out and out longing.
"Phyllis," he murmured, the whole of the servants quarters were empty, everyone had gone for the evening, but still, something in her voice made him think that he should respond quietly, "Are you alright?"
"Yes," she murmured in reply.
"I miss you darling," he told her into the silence, when she does not say any more.
"i miss you too," she replied.
She still sounded a little strange, distracted, almost, and so he asked her:
"What are you thinking about?"
And then, distinctly, he heard her sigh.
"The last time I saw you," she replied.
He remembered too. By god, he remembered.
"Phyllis-…" he started, a tone of warning in his voice, but she cut him off before he could go any further.
"You're alone, aren't you?" she asked him, her voice huskier than before.
"Yes," he replied, "Everyone's gone to Ripon, to the pictures."
She gave a satisfied sound.
"Talk to me about it," she asked him, "The last time."
A lump had formed in his throat.
"It was wonderful," he managed to say hoarsely.
He could hear the smile in her voice as she said gently, "Joseph. You know what I mean. Are you alright?" she asked him a second later, when he was still quiet.
"Yes," he replied, "Just remembering."
"Good," she replied, "Tell me what you remember."
"You were so beautiful," he told her quietly, his hand gripping the receiver tightly, pressing it a little into his ear, "So loving-… So wanton."
There was a little shudder in her breath, and little shuffle. He could see her in his mind's eye; her eyes closed in intense concentration, pushing the loose hair back behind her ear.
"I remember the taste of you," he told her, and he heard her murmur her contentment.
"Really?" she asked him, "What do I taste like?"
"I don't know," he replied, "Hot. Sweet. There's nothing to compare it to."
He listened intently to the sound of her sighing.
"I keep thinking about you," he told her, "And that grey slip you were wearing."
"I'm wearing it now under my dress," she told him.
It was his turn to groan.
"Are you touching yourself?" she asked him.
"No," he replied, "But would you mind if I did?"
"Of course not, you silly man!" she told him, "What do you think I'm doing?"
His eyes widened as he realised what she meant.
"Where on earth are you?" he asked her.
"I'm in my bedroom," she replied.
"But, the telephone-…?"
"What can I say, I was lucky," she replied, "This was the old housekeeper's room and they haven't taken it out yet."
He could see her so clearly, her skirts hoisted up to her waist, a thin sliver of grey silk across the top of her thighs. She was exquisite, too exquisite for words, but words were what he needed.
"I want you," he told her gruffly, his hand unfastening his trousers as he spoke, "I want you now."
"How?" she asked him, "Tell me how you want me. What you would do."
He could remember the shimmer of the silk down her back and the darkness of her hair, falling down over her shoulders, the whiteness of her neck.
"I want you on your hands and knees," he told her, his voice low, "I want to have you from behind."
"Oh yes," she murmured, he could hear her smiling again, remembering, "You like that, don't you?"
"Yes," he murmured, his breath hissing out.
"I like it too," she told him softly, "You feel so big when you do it like that."
He thought how wonderfully hot and tight she felt, when they were together like that.
"Are you still-…?"
"Yes," he answered, pre-empting her question.
"Good," she replied, and then sighed, "I love you, Joseph. I want to be with you when we're like this."
"It's not long now my love," he told her.
"I know," she replied, "I just want to be with you, and kiss you, and make love to you."
"I want to kiss your thighs," he told her, "I want to kiss you where you get hot."
"Oh, Joseph," he could hear her moan, "I want that too."
"I want to love you," he told her, "I want to do things for you."
He hear her moan again, more loudly this time and he knew she was on the verge of coming.
"Let it go, my love," he told her softly.
He fumbled with his handkerchief, catching himself just in time before the wail she gave pushed him over the edge too.
"Joseph, Joseph," he heard her a few moments later, "I miss you so much."
Her voice was different somehow; weaker.
"Are you crying?" he asked.
She gave a sniff.
"No."
His heart was beating fit to explode.
"Oh, my love," he told her softly, "Only a few more days. And then I'll be with you again."
She sniffed again, and her voice was stronger when she spoke again.
"I know," she replied, "I know."
"And when you come home," he told her, "I'll show you exactly how much I love you."
End.
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