"Hello, you're on Confessions After Dark. What's your name?" Her voice is low and sultry, and for a moment, I allow myself to think that maybe she is hoping it's me on the line. It probably isn't true, but a man can wish.

"Hello, Isabella. It's...umm, it's Anthony. Again."

"Anthony... from last week? It's great to hear your voice." Her greeting is warm, genuine. And the sound of it covers me. It's the same voice every time. Even in my fantasies. "Do you have another confession for me? You know I'm not going to make any deals with you this week."

I chuckle at her words.

"I didn't call to make a deal this time." I take a deep breath, waiting for her to ask, wanting her to ask me why I'm calling.

"Well, Anthony... what can I do for you tonight then? Do you have a confession for us?"

"I've been having the fantasy again," I say, leaning back against the pillows in my bed. I listened to her show on the way home, debating whether or not I should call again. The desire to hear her voice talking to me had been too strong, too much. So, here I am with my phone in my hand again. "The same one as before."

"The same one... the one where your dream girl was... wet?"

"Yes, wet...and needy. Hot."

"That... that sounds like quite the fantasy, Anthony. What, I mean why … why is she so needy?"

"Because I made her that way."

I hear her slight intake of breath. And the sound of it goes straight to my already aching dick. I want her to feel affected by my words, want to think of her sitting there, listening to me, trying not to clench her thighs. The same way I'm trying not to stroke my cock.

"Is this fantasy girl... the one you keep dreaming about, someone special?"

She has no idea.

"She is to me - at least in my mind."

"We've got to take one last quick break, Anthony. Can you stay on the line for a bit more?"

"I can do whatever you need me to, Isabella."

I wonder if she'll talk to me while she's on break. The truth is, I don't really get off on telling my secrets to her listeners. And I wonder what she might be like, what kinds of things she could possibly say if she doesn't have to worry about the fact that there are people listening to our conversation.

And just as I close my eyes to imagine it, she speaks.

"Anthony..." The sound of my 'name' rolling off her tongue is more powerful, more arousing than all of my fantasies. That, and the fact that she's saying it to me...just me. This isn't for her listeners, but because she wants to keep talking. Even though she doesn't have to.

"Yes?"

"Just making sure you're still there. Didn't want to lose you on the commercial. Sometimes that happens... I'm glad you called tonight."

"Really?" I muse, altogether too happy to hear it.

"Absolutely … I have to admit, god, this is embarrassing. But there's just something about your voice. I wasn't lying when I said your confession was my favorite."

"I think your voice is the captivating one. I mean, just the sound of it makes people want to call in from all over just to talk to you. And not just to talk to you, but to share their deepest secrets."

I'm telling her my secrets, just not the biggest one.

A pang of guilt stabs me in my gut, because what would she think if she knew who I was? But before I can dwell on it for too long, she says, "Oh... hold that thought, I gotta get us back."

"We're back, everyone, with our last caller of the night. Anthony is on the line and he's been having quite the fantasies lately."

"Last night..." I start, pausing long enough to pull up the memory. Because even though I'm not being completely honest with her, everything I've said, every vivid fantasy I've described, has been the absolute truth. "While I was in the shower, I couldn't get her face out of my mind. Even when I closed my eyes, she was still there. It's her eyes, I think. I can't stop thinking about her eyes."

"So you know her face? Her eyes? What color are they?"

"Yes, I know her face," I murmur, "And her eyes are dark...brown. Intense and mysterious. Like she has a million secrets hiding behind them, and I want to uncover each and every one."

"She sounds intriguing. Is this... a girlfriend?"

"No," I breathe. But for all I know, she could be someone's girlfriend. "At least not mine. To me, she's something else."

Her intake of breath is quick, sharp. I wonder if her pulse is thumping at the base of her throat. The same place I want to lick and suck and bite.

"Who is she?"

Breathless. Barely a whisper.

"She's the woman who takes my cock," I say, my voice coming across so much rougher than I expected. "Only she doesn't just take it. She wants it…begs for it. With every arch of her body, every whimper and moan. And do you know what, Isabella?"

The silence between us is long, the tension palpable.

"What, Anthony?"

"I give it to her."

A/N

Thank you for reading and letting us have a little fun.

And a huge thanks to the amazing girls who pre-read for us. Obsmama, Kassiah and Kourt – we adore you.

Thanks to Marvar for betaing all the words, and not flouncing us.

xoxo,

Jaime and Cosmo