It was late Sunday night and Christine was just about to hop into bed. She shut off all her lights, made sure she had locked the doors, and headed upstairs. She was just about to send off a good-night text to Mr. Y when her phone lit with his name and below it two options to either pick up or ignore the call.

Her heart surged with panic. He was calling. He never called.

Christine hastily pressed the green button, pulling the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

For a moment she expected silence. Surely he called by mistake.

The voices she'd given this man in her mind were built from all the messages he'd sent over the past several months. She played with it all: thin, throaty, nasally. She didn't expect this ripple of velvet and silk that was coming through her receiver.

"If you wanted to get to know me better, you probably should've tried a little harder than Maria."

Christine froze in shock. Every Sunday afternoon he set an appointment for her at the spa. Same room, same masseuse, same Swedish massage. Her masseuse Maria asked her often how things were going with him, and Christine had never thought to ask if she had met him, but for some reason, the possibility struck her.

"Have you ever met him before?" Christine asked as Maria rubbed oil onto her back.

Maria knew very little about Christine and Mr. Y's odd relationship. She knew they only ever texted and he paid for her massages.

Christine hoped that maybe Maria thought they were in a long-distance relationship, but in all honesty, she didn't really care what people thought about their relationship. She didn't care anymore that she was a sugar baby, she felt there was something more between them than an exchange of company for cash. Perhaps that was because they had never undergone the exchange.

Maria responded hesitantly. "Only once. It was some time ago."

"What was he like?"

"He seemed nice. Very quiet."

"What did he look like?"

Here Maria paused. Christine turned her head as best she could to look at her. "I don't think I should tell you that."

Christine's brows furrowed. "Why not?"

She saw Maria's throat bob. "Mr. Young doesn't look like other men."

Christine felt the puzzle pieces slowly falling into place. His last name, the possible reason for his hesitance in meeting her.

"How so?"

Maria slowly resumed her work. "He wears a mask."

Christine frowned. "Like a ski mask?"

"No, it's made of latex."

Christine tried closing her eyes and imagining a picture of him. A man in a suit and mask. It was an odd combination.

He chuckled into her ear. Had anyone's laughter ever made her feel so giddy? "But I guess I can't really blame you for sniffing around, can I, Miss Daaé?"

She swallowed nervously. It was her turn to speak. She thought it was rather funny how she was so insecure about her voice now. In comparison to the man over the phone, she felt almost as if she wasn't worthy.

"It's Christine," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "Y-you can call me Christine."

Silence. She thought maybe he was reconsidering being with her.

"Christine," he repeated as if trying it out for the first time. Her name fit like a glove on his tongue. "Erik."

She blinked, barely catching what he'd said after her name. "W-what?"

"Erik. My name is Erik."

She smiled. She wanted to jump for joy. She knew his name. His entire name, not some initial, not some letter of the alphabet. "Erik," she repeated.

He hummed something of an affirmation and their conversation fell to silence. Perhaps this too was why he didn't ever desire meeting up face-to-face. Maybe he wasn't good at conversation.

Christine cleared her throat. "It is entirely your fault, you know? I wouldn't have needed to probe my masseuse if you hadn't been so secretive these past few months."

She felt her confidence slowly building. It was odd. She had been speaking with this man for a while now. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden?

He chuckled again. "I guess you are right, Miss— I mean, Christine."

She laughed. He was trying. "Did you just get off work?"

She heard him yawn, pulling the phone away to lessen the noise. He was tired. He was real. "Yeah, just got home."

Christine hummed in acknowledgement. "Long day?"

"As usual."

"Tell me everything."

There was a pause. "I'm sure you don't want to hear all about that, sweetheart."

Her heart stammered. It was nice to finally hear his actual voice calling her all the cute little nicknames he'd given her. "But I do."

He yawned again. "I don't really want to get myself worked up before bed. There's this huge project and there's a lot going on…"

Christine found herself leaning in, excited he was finally letting her in on some details of his work.

"It's just," he paused to sigh, "it's a lot. Maybe another day."

"Maybe another day," she agreed, smiling.

She heard a rustle of fabric and the shutting of a door. "I guess I should let you go," he said sighing. "I'm sure you were just about to climb into bed for the night."

Christine shrugged. "It's fine, I'm glad you called." She paused. "It's just nice to put a voice to the man, you know?"

His laughter was breathy. "I haven't been good to you. I'm sorry, Christine."

She shook her head. "No! You've been so good to me! That's just what I don't understand: why you could be so good and expect nothing in return."

Their conversation had been filled with a lot of empty, silent gaps, but this had to have been the longest of them all.

"Sometimes it's just nice to feel like someone appreciates you."

The words squeezed her heart so tightly it almost hurt. "I know what you mean."

"I know you do, sweety. Especially since no one at that job of yours seems to appreciate you."

She wondered how his arms might've felt around her, what position he'd pull her into as they slipped into bed together. Would he want her to face him and rub small circles over his chest as he rubbed her back? Or would he prefer to stick his face into her hair, push the locks aside so that he could kiss the back of her neck?

She blinked away her little fantasy. His texts were only enough to make her mind wander so much. Now that she had his name, his voice...he never felt so much like a real man before.

"We should get dinner together sometime." Christine would've been surprised by the boldness of her suggestion a month or two ago, but now, after having admitted to herself she was desperate to truly meet this man, she found she wasn't surprised one bit.

The length between her comment and his almost scared her that he might just turn her down, might just say she was moving too fast for him. "I think that's a lovely idea." Again, that smile appeared on her lips. "I actually have had a place in mind. Unless you had anyplace you wanted to go to?"

She shook her head, laughing. "I'm fine with whatever."

"Great," he said. "How's next Sunday evening after your massage? Maybe I can get off work a little sooner."

"Sounds good!"

"Alright," he said conclusively. "I'll make reservations and send you the details."

"Alright."

His voice swooped low, bringing her down against the bed with it. "Have a good night, Christine."

"Sweet dreams, Erik."