Charlie leaned over the dresser in her uncle's guest room, putting in her second earring, the final touch on her outfit before she left for class. In the living room, she heard the phone ring and quickly rushed out to grab it. Her uncle Miles had to be the last person on earth who refused to get a cell phone and relied exclusively on his landline for communication. He was always ranting about how if people became too dependent on technology, someday it would all collapse and everyone would be screwed.

Somewhat breathless from dashing across the apartment, Charlie clicked on the cordless phone. "Hello?" she answered.

A pause, then, "Is Miles there?" A masculine, assertive voice. Charlie's heart sped up for no discernable reason.

"No, he's not. Who should I say called?"

"This is Bass Monroe," the voice said, as if his statement needed no further explanation.

"Okay, Bass Monroe," Charlie said with a laugh.

"And who's this?" he asked archly.

"This is Charlie. Miles' niece," Charlie replied, purposely dispelling any ideas this Bass Monroe might have about her being some other type of woman in Miles' life.

"Miles' niece… the one who's really into archery?"

"Close, but I haven't done that in about ten years," Charlie said dryly at the reminder of her childhood hobby.

"Guess I lost track of time," Bass replied, and Charlie could hear the smile in his voice, realized he was teasing her. She had no idea what to say in response, and Bass continued, "Will you let Miles know he's got the ticket for the game on Sunday? And to call me?"

"Call Bass Monroe. Got it," Charlie finally managed to respond.

"See ya, Charlie," he said, and hung up without waiting for her response.

Charlie replaced the phone in its cradle, staring into space for a few seconds. She had no idea why a simple phone conversation was affecting her this way. Other than Bass Monroe had probably the sexiest voice she'd ever heard, hoarse and intense and arrogant. This is Bass Monroe. As she got up to finish getting ready for school, Charlie couldn't help but hope that she would hear that voice again very soon.

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Sunday afternoon, Charlie was standing in the kitchen, putting together a late lunch. She had slept late, and then she and her uncle spent the morning watching ESPN and the first part of the 1:00 football game. Miles owned a bar and so was usually around during the day and gone late into the night. The bar was a second calling for him, after he'd retired from the Marines a few years prior. He grumbled and fussed about the hassle of being a business owner, but Charlie could tell he loved his little slice of Chicago's nightlife. And of course, alcohol.

Down the hall, she heard Miles open the front door and let someone in. Then, she froze as she recognized the voice exchanging greetings with her uncle. Bass Monroe. She recalled that he had mentioned something about Sunday when they talked. But she hadn't realized he would be coming here.

Then her uncle stepped into the kitchen, with Bass following behind. Charlie's breath caught in her chest. Hot lust shot through her body as she raked her eyes greedily over Bass, taking in this incredible male specimen. How he'd sounded was nothing compared to how he looked. His slightly too long curly hair, his chiseled jaw line, the whiskers that added to his disheveled, careless appearance… and his eyes. Intense, sexy blue eyes that were now burning into hers, returning-if Charlie wasn't mistaken-her surprise and desire.

"Bass, you remember Charlie, my niece," Miles said offhandedly, striding to the fridge and pulling out a beer, tossing it to Bass.

"Not really," Bass said with a crooked grin, still not taking his eyes off her. "Hey, Charlie. I'm Bass."

"Hi," Charlie said, then turned back to arranging her plate of cheese. Miles turned and walked out of the kitchen, calling over his shoulder that he was going to hit the can and then they could go.

Charlie moved to a different cupboard, looking for the crackers she thought she'd seen a few days ago. She spotted them near the back and stretched up on her tiptoes, reaching up for the box. As she did, she could feel Bass' gaze on her back and was suddenly self-conscious of how her snug Chicago Bears t-shirt was pulling up above the waistband of her jeans. Thudding back down on her heels, she quickly spilled a few crackers out of the box and set it aside, turning around.

"So Miles says you're staying with him for awhile?" Bass asked, leaning on the counter behind him, beer in his hand. Charlie's heart thudded at how sexy he looked in his worn leather jacket, faded t-shirt, and jeans.

"Yeah," Charlie replied. "I'm doing a semester at the University of Chicago, helping a professor with some research and taking classes. Then I'll go back to Philly in the spring to finish up."

"Philadelphia, huh?" Bass asked. "I always wanted to spend some time there. I love all the history."

"Yeah, all the American Revolution stuff is pretty great," Charlie said, trying to form coherent words rather than just stare at Bass' mouth as he spoke.

Bass shook his head. "I'm more of a Civil War guy. Philadelphia Brigade, Frankford Arsenal, Belmont Mansion…"

Miles popped back into the kitchen. "What are we talking about?"

"Competing to see who can name the most obscure Civil War attractions in Philly," Charlie teased, looking at Bass with a grin. "So far, Bass is winning." She felt her nipples tingle to hardness as he smiled in return.

Miles rolled his eyes, "Yeah, no doubt he is. You ready to go, brother?"

Bass nodded, quickly draining his beer and setting the empty bottle down. "Let's do it. Charlie, good luck with your semester. Maybe I'll see you around."

He and Miles made their way out the door, and as soon as she heard it shut behind them, Charlie rested back against the counter, tipping her head back and breathing deeply. Wow. Her body was practically humming with energy in the wake of Bass Monroe. She ran her hands up over her arms and down across her chest, trying to gather herself. Charlie didn't think she'd ever been so instantly, so intensely attracted to someone. The two minutes they'd talked had left her craving more of him.

Shaking her head, Charlie grabbed her plate of food and headed to the living room. Maybe a few hours of football would get him out of her head. Or if not, she mused, she could always watch the crowd shots for a glimpse of him.

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Later that night, Charlie was alone at the apartment, doing some reading for school while the last football game of the day played in the background. Miles was at the bar. He'd told her he was just going to drop by to check on things, even though technically one of his managers was on duty.

The phone rang next to Charlie, and she picked it up, still focused on her book. "Hello," she said distractedly.

"Hey… Charlie?" It was him. Charlie's head snapped to attention and she practically dropped the phone.

"Yeah, hey. Bass?"

He laughed, an intimate, sexy laugh. "Yeah, hey," he repeated. "Is Miles there?"

Charlie shook her head, then realized Bass couldn't see her. "No, he's at the bar. Headed over there after you dropped him off."

"Oh, did he?" Bass didn't sound surprised at all. "Well, he left his jacket in my car."

Smiling, Charlie replied, "Good thing it's 75 degrees out."

Bass laughed again. That laugh. "Good thing."

Not wanting to hang up, Charlie quickly asked, "So, how was the game?"

"Figured you'd seen it," Bass said. "Or was that Bears t-shirt just for show?"

Charlie's face grew hot at the reminder that he'd noticed what she'd been wearing. "No, I did watch it. I mean, how was being there?"

"Oh, it's always great. I have season tickets, never miss a home game."

Charlie was impressed. Impulsively, she said, "Nice. Maybe one of these days I can convince you to take me instead of Miles."

Bass paused a second, then said, "I don't know, Miles can be pretty possessive of his spot."

"But I can be very persuasive."

He chuckled and said, "I bet you can be." Another pause, then he added, "Alright, well. Can you let Miles know about the jacket?"

"Will do," Charlie said lightly. As they hung up and she turned back to her schoolwork, Charlie found that she couldn't stop smiling.

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Two nights later, Tuesday, Charlie had survived a particularly grueling, fruitless day in the library. She'd decided to unwind with a glass or several of red wine and a movie on TV. After being settled in for a while, she was finally feeling relaxed and slightly buzzed when the phone rang. Her heart leapt. Maybe it was… but that was ridiculous, why would he be calling?

She answered, irrationally excited, "Hello?"

"Hey." Bass' voice came over the line. Oh my god.

"Hey," she said, a huge smile involuntarily spreading across her face. Awkwardly, she blurted, "Miles isn't here." He was always at the bar on weeknights.

"I know," Bass replied. He let the words hang between them, their significance sinking in.

"Oh," was all Charlie could come up with to say.

"What are you doing?" Bass asked. Charlie blushed, feeling warm all over.

"Just watching a movie on TV," she replied, trying to sound nonchalant. She couldn't believe she and Bass Monroe were talking on the phone. As if this was a thing they did.

"What's on?" he asked, and she heard his TV pop on in the background.

"Phantom of the Opera. TBS," she admitted, slightly embarrassed, wishing she'd decided to watch something more Bass-like. 300. Sin City. Something.

He found the movie, and for a few seconds they watched in silence as Christine descended into the Phantom's lair beneath the opera house.

Bass chuckled, "Women are funny."

Charlie was immediately indignant. "How so?" she demanded.

"Well, she's just going down into this dungeon with this Phantom guy who's totally obsessed with her and wants to control her. And she's completely into it. I think deep down, you all want to be dominated," he explained cockily.

Charlie protested, "We do not! Anyway, she goes for the nice, normal guy in the end."

"Yeah, but you know she's not really happy with Raoul. She'll never stop thinking about the Phantom," Bass replied.

"Maybe. But even the Phantom knew he was no good for her," Charlie said.

Bass gave no immediate response, and the silence stretched between them. Finally, in a softer, deeper voice, he said, "Yeah, maybe he did know it."

Charlie didn't reply, thinking of Bass. Probably he was no good for her. He had to be at least as old as her uncle, so more than twice her age. She had no idea what he did, really no idea what he was like. And anyone who was that sinfully attractive had to be bad news. Still, Charlie knew she didn't really care. She wanted him.

"You know, you'd look pretty good in something like that," Bass' voice cut into her thoughts, his tone light again.

Charlie focused on the screen and saw that the heroine was wearing an elaborate, low-cut gown that showed plenty of skin. She smiled at his comment and said, "Sorry to disappoint you, but it's just shorts and a tank top tonight."

"Shorts, huh? Doesn't sound too bad," Bass replied, his voice hitching just a little.

Unconsciously, Charlie rubbed her hand up over her thigh and shivered. "They're comfortable," she replied inanely.

"What kind of tank top?" Bass asked.

Charlie giggled nervously. "I don't know, what kinds are there?"

"Well, from what I understand, they come in colors, fabrics…" Bass trailed off, urging her to fill in the blanks.

Charlie giggled again-what is wrong with me? "Um, it's light blue," she said, unsure if this was what he wanted to hear. "Cotton. Stretchy, I guess."

She heard Bass breathe in and out heavily, and when he spoke again, his voice was strained, "Sounds nice."

"What about you?" she tossed out. "I assume you're not wearing a dress shirt with a neck ruffle," she joked, referring to what the Phantom was wearing in the movie right then.

Bass snorted. "Just jeans and a t-shirt here."

"Jeans?" she asked. "Doesn't sound too comfy for a night in front of the TV."

"Yeah, well." His breath was quickening. "I'm working on that."

Charlie heard the phone move against his face, and it sounded like he was shifting around. Her breath caught in shock. He couldn't mean… before she lost her wine-fueled nerve, she began to ask: "Bass, are you…" As she spoke, she ran her hand down over her stomach and further, below her waistband, stroking there lightly.

"Am I what?" he whispered, his voice husky.

"Touching yourself," she finished, now fully exploring her wet folds with her fingers, sure of his answer.

"Fuck. Maybe. Are you?"

"Yeah," she breathed. "I am."

He commanded her, "Tell me. Tell me how it feels."

Charlie breathed for a few beats, then gasped, "I'm… wet. I have my fingers… inside."

Bass moaned slightly. "God. Damnit. Are your shorts still on?"

"Yeah."

"Take them off. Panties too."

Charlie balanced the phone on her shoulder and complied, sliding the material over her hips and down her smooth legs, leaving it puddled at her feet. She rested back on the rough fabric of the couch and said, "Okay. They're off."

"Spread your legs," Bass told her. "And keep going."

Charlie dipped her fingers down to her entrance then smeared her moisture over her clit, relishing the pressure. She cried out softly, "God, Bass, it feels so amazing. I'm so wet for you."

His voice came back a seductive murmur. "Good. That's good. If I were there, I'd make you come for me. Can you do it instead?"

"Come for you?" she asked, her fingers speeding up, working more firmly. "Yeah, I think I can." They were silent for a few minutes except for occasional grunts and moans of pleasure. Charlie was more turned on than she could ever remember being. Maybe it was because what they were doing was so forbidden. If Miles knew… Maybe it was talking dirty with this man who so clearly relished it. Maybe it was just him. Sexy, confident Bass Monroe.

Charlie felt the coiling in her belly that meant she was close and said, "Bass, I'm… I'm going to come." She dipped her fingers into her core, then ran them back up her slit, rubbing her engorged clit. Her hips shifted under her own ministrations as she imagined the fingers fondling her belonged to Bass.

"Oh God, yes… yes… ughhhhh…" Charlie released a loud moan as her body spasmed into orgasm, releasing a flood of wetness onto her fingers.

Dimly, she registered Bass on the other end of the phone, panting more quickly, then muttering, "Oh, fuck, Charlie..." then making a strangled, involuntary groan of completion.

They lay there quietly for a few seconds. Charlie asked hazily, "Did you…"

Bass chuckled. "What do you think?"

As she came down from her high, Charlie's lust faded away and mortification began to set in. "Alright, I'm hanging up now," she said hastily. "Goodbye, Bass."

She heard him chuckle again, and he replied, "Goodnight, Charlie. Thanks for a fun… talk." She heard the line click, and she turned the phone off, her head still spinning with the aftershocks of her climax.

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The next morning at breakfast, Charlie eyed her uncle speculatively. After what she and Bass had done last night, she was burning with curiosity about him. Charlie realized that Miles had no clue that she and Bass had even been talking. Let alone that they had masturbated themselves to simultaneous orgasm while talking dirty on Miles' phone. So she had to be careful.

"That guy, Bass, who you went to the football game with," she started. "He has season tickets or something?"

Miles didn't look at her or move, just grunted "mmm hmm" while staring at his newspaper, coffee cup glued to one hand. Even though it was 11 a.m., he still wasn't fully awake. Miles was not exactly a morning person. As the owner of a bar, it was appropriate enough.

"How do y'all know each other?" This got his attention, as he looked up at her in surprise.

"I've known Bass forever. You've met him before. Remember, we were kids together, Marines together…"

"Is he retired, too?"

Miles nodded, "Yeah, same year as me." That confirmed what Charlie had suspected, that Bass must be at least in his mid-40s, same as Miles. God, how could a man that much older than her be so outrageously sexy?

"So what does he do now?" Charlie pressed. Fortunately, Miles was apparently too groggy to find her keen interest suspicious. He glowered.

"Now," he intoned with heavy sarcasm, "He gets the shit beat out of him every other night for no reason."

Charlie was genuinely confused. "What does that mean?"

Miles sighed. "He fights. For money. I've told him a thousand times he should stop; he doesn't need the cash. But he won't listen."

Beginning to understand, Charlie asked, "So, what, like pro fighting? MMA-style?"

Looking disgusted, Miles replied, "He wishes it were that classy. More like barroom-brawl-style, only slightly more organized."

Charlie tried to shove away the image of a sweaty, bloodied Bass trading blows with some faceless opponent in a dark, smoky bar. "Wow. You said he gets the shit beat out of him? So he loses a lot?"

"No, that's the problem," Miles clarified, frustrated. "He never loses, but you don't have to lose to take a serious beating. Last month he split his knuckles open so bad he ended up at the hospital. Twenty stitches to put his hand back in one piece."

Charlie winced, weighing whether to chance her next question. She decided her need to know made it worth the risk. "His girlfriend must hate that," she tossed out, as casually as humanly possible.

Miles took the bait. "Girlfriend? Bass? Yeah, right. If he ever met a woman he could tolerate for more than a rough fuck and a cup of coffee the morning after, I'd be shocked," he spat, then glanced up, seeming to realize who he was talking to. "Sorry."

"I know what sex is, Miles. It's fine." Charlie did her best to act neutral about this revelation. Well, what had she expected? A man who looked like that, who seduced her into phone sex without ever taking her on a date, of course worked his way through a lot of women. She had no right to feel as disappointed and jealous as she did.

Miles dropped his paper and pushed back from the table. "I gotta go open the bar. You coming by tonight? We missed you yesterday."

Charlie hesitated. "I don't think so. I have to…" Wait around in case your womanizing best friend calls and wants to have phone sex again. "Read for school," she finished lamely.

"Alright, well, have fun with that," Miles said absently as he walked out of the room. Charlie closed her eyes and thought, With any luck at all, I will.