"Hugh. I – I do feel a little better. Talking about it. With you."
"I'm rubbish at this – this. Don't thank me."
"All right then."
"... I do understand, to some extent. I lost someone – my father. When I was a child. A heart attack."
"I'm sorry."
"It's not the same."
"Worse, maybe. The death of a parent can affect children profoundly."
"It was... difficult."
...
..
"John. I think... you could do something. For your friend. For yourself."
"What's that?"
"Look for some pebbles. Flat ones. Find a river."
"Skim stones. Yes..."
"... Oh. No, I didn't mean to upset you again, John. Don't -"
"Heh. No, I'm okay, really. That's – it's good. A wonderful idea. Thank you, Hugh."
"You may not be grateful about being alive, but – I... I think it's good."
"I have my doubts some days, but may I ask why you think that?"
"You're here, talking to me. You said she got you into this job. So."
"So. Here I am."
"How did she do that?"
"Ah. I suppose it does seem strange to you, someone like me working as a phone sex worker."
"No, more like surprising to me, which you continually do. It's refreshing. If you don't mind. I want to know everything."
"'Everything' takes too long. Haven't I talked enough? Aren't you bored yet? This must be costing you - "
"Oh, for god's sake! Don't mention money again, it is too, too boring! I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know!"
"All right, Hugh, all right. Well. In short, Lizzy used to work the lines when she first came to London and needed the money. To be honest, when she talked about it – the industry wasn't what I expected, and she seemed to have a pretty positive outlook on it all. Some of the stories – god, she used to make me laugh. Embarrassed the hell out me, too. She said I'd be good at it. When I was discharged, I was in pretty bad shape – no way to know if I would be able to work, much less at what job. The disability pension doesn't go far. She gave me some numbers, a few people to contact. Just in case. And so... "
"Here you are. You are good at it, by the way."
"Yes. Well, thank you."
"So – penury and a bad leg pushed you into the profession."
"Well – yes."
"John. That can't be the whole reason."
"What do you mean?"
"You are still going to a clinic for your leg problems. Therefore, your disability pension hasn't run out yet."
"Damn. You would catch that. Good work, detective."
"Why did you join the phone sex industry, then?"
"I'll answer, if you answer my question first."
"Let's hear it."
"Why did you call? Why do you keep calling?"
"That's two questions."
"Essentially it's one, and I'm waiting, Hugh."
...
..
.
"All right then, Hugh. How about, I answer for you. You're lonely."
"I beg your pardon?"
"People who call phone sex lines generally fall into two categories, with some overlap. They want a wank. Or they want a talk. You've passed beyond the overlap, and into the 'wants to talk' area. Lonely - "
"I don't feel lonely!"
" - plus you were such an arse when you first called, and that kind of behaviour isn't exactly conducive to making friends. Rather the opposite – even I was ready to strangle you or have you banned from our lines. Yet once I called you on it, you changed your behaviour. That suggests that your antagonistic modes of speech are a habitual defence. You've as much as admitted that you had a relationship that ended badly, and you haven't been sexually active in some time."
"Thank you for the psyche evaluation, doctor!"
"You're welcome, detective. So. Am I right? Do I need to break anyone's kneecaps for you?"
"... You know you're right. And thank you for the generous offer, but no."
...
"Mmm?"
…
..
"All right, John. God you say more with silence than anyone I ever met! I'm... I don't do relationships."
"No lovers?"
"Not for some time."
"It must have been one hell of a break-up."
"Yes."
…
..
.
"It was a long time ago. It's not important."
"Mm. I can see how unimportant it was. Care to tell me about it?"
"Fine. Though why you are pushing, you already understand -"
"Because things in the past can still have power over us, Hugh."
"You guessed it in the second call. Seb, his name was Seb. We were at university. We were lovers, but apparently I wasn't – he said I was cold, cut off from any human emotion. It ended."
"The mystery of it to me, is why you let what some prat, some university age imbecile said to you affect your behaviour even to this day. What kind of idiot name is Seb anyway?"
"He wasn't an idiot, I would never waste my time with an idiot. It's true - I don't open up easily, I don't always understand others..."
"He was cruel to say it."
"He was right."
"And that's where I have the problem. I don't agree."
"I don't understand you at all, John."
"Put it down to the magic of phone conversations. There's fewer physical cues to catch. There's fewer consequences if there are misunderstandings. People tend to be more unguarded, on the phone. So, no, I don't think you are cold. I think – no, I know it's rather the opposite, but you've suppressed it for so long."
"I suppose you're right. Does this... magic apply to you, as well?"
"Sorry to possibly disappoint, but - phone sex worker. What do you think?"
"Oh. Well, I have caught you out a few times."
"I'll give you that. So, Hugh. Why haven't you got anyone now? You're brilliant, you've got this great voice - "
"Not handsome, John?"
"How would I know, honestly? Is that important, to be good-looking? I hope I'm not that shallow! But really. When was your last sexual encounter?"
"... I can't believe I am having this conversation."
"The man who could describe pulling himself onto my cock as I came with his fingers in my arse while floating in outer space has nothing to be embarrassed about. That was brilliant."
"John!"
"Evens things up a bit. Besides, what did some wise person say once? 'It's just the two of us, here in the dark.'"
"Honestly, John."
"Barring random encounters with phone sex workers, when was your last time with someone?"
"You're my first."
"What?"
"First sex line call."
"Um. Well. Thank you?"
"John. It was my pleasure, John. Entirely -"
"... Jesus. Your voice – no, not getting sidetracked. How long?"
"Guess."
"Three months ago?"
…
..
"Six months ago?"
...
..
"A year?... 2 years... ?"
"No. Go higher, John."
"I'm afraid to! For God's sake, Hugh! You... How?"
"It's easy, really."
"The hell it is! A brilliant man like you, you have so much to offer, I can't believe - Why, Hugh?"
"How does one avoid romantic entanglements for years? Simplicity itself. You flatter me, John, by seeming to think people would easily be easily attracted to me. If they are, they are soon dissuaded."
"Mm. Is that so. Barriers again, Hugh?"
"I have an innate reserve that seems cold. I've been called heartless. I have a low tolerance for people of little intelligence, and there are few that can keep up with me. Relationships are a tremendous expenditure of time and effort, and at this point in my life, my work takes priority. People looking for relationships can never be content with being relegated to a position of lesser importance. In short, I am not an easy man to be with. This is how I am."
"Okay. But that's why – or part of it anyway. How is it possible? It's – I can't even imagine -"
"Oh, very well. It's simple, people don't seem to realize how easy it is. I've had lovers since Seb, but the interludes were of brief duration, and have become more infrequent as time has passed. Your industry is evidence that one doesn't need physical contact with another person to relieve... urges. You seem to think abstinence is difficult – it's not. Being alone, not having sexual relationships – it's a series of choices, of saying, "No, I don't want to go out, I need to finish this experiment. Do understand, I'm not available for a date, I have a case that's important. I'm busy." The time and effort saved is tremendous, and I channel it all into my work. Work that matters. That's how. You choose. Day by day."
"You... Let me understand this – bit by bit, you've turned away from having relationships, from even having simple sexual contact with others. You've chosen work... or it's an excuse to avoid contact - you've deliberately cut yourself off from - "
"That's an overly melodramatic way to put it."
"That... may be one of the saddest things I've ever heard."
"I don't need your pity, John! I don't want it, it's abhorrent to think you feel sorry for me! My life functions quite well as it is, thank you!"
"For god's sake, Hugh! Let's summarize this – you say you are cold, can't let people in, and don't want to expend the effort to make it happen! You don't ALLOW it to happen, you have this wall -! Surely a genius like you can see it's a paradox? You are crap at relationships because you don't let them in! For such a clever man, you are amazingly stupid! I can't believe this! And yes, what I said holds true - you are the loneliest, most isolated genius-idiot -"
"There's you, John. What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Would you say that we have a relationship?"
"... Of a sort."
"That's why."
"Why what?"
"In answer to your question, before. Why I continue to keep calling."
…
..
"John?"
"... that. I'm sorry, that was quite – I don't quite know what to say."
"Thank you would suffice."
"So – in this one case - with me - you believe... that the time and effort expended was..."
"I like to think of it more as an investment."
"Hugh."
"There... is some connection. I don't understand it. I never expected it. But it's down to you, of this I am certain. I want to know more."
"Aren't you afraid that... this, the medium of the telephone conversation – that because of the anonymity of this, your normal barriers are down, that... you are, um. Not yourself?"
"I appreciate your tact. Yes, there is a certain safety in it I hadn't expected. Yet I've told you... John, you've seen more about me than anyone I've met in years. I've been more... myself. God, why can't words say – I can't express myself clearly! You know me. Can you understand how singular that is?"
"And you've deduced more about me than anyone I ever encountered. Frankly, it's -"
"I want to know you. I want to know you."
…
..
"John. I... I would like for us to meet."