I walk through the long hallway and down the staircase that runs to the gigantic den of the mansion, big and empty but for the expensive toys and random beer bottles lying around. I open the BootyCall app on my phone and it presents me with a big green button, the word ‘chat’ written across it like a big understatement. I swipe it with my thumb and hold the phone to my ear.
“Hey,” comes a dark, husky voice on the other end. Now this is more like it. I pour myself some of the whiskey I keep on the coffee table and stretch out on the couch.
“Hello there.”
“So. What you looking for?” she says, making it clear what she’s looking for herself.
“I’m not sure. But I’ll know when I find it.”
She laughs, and it sounds like she’s making love to the phone.
“I like your accent,” she says. “Where you from?”
“I’m Irish.”
“Ooh,” she coos appreciatively. “You got money?”
It’s not my favorite question, but hey, this is Hollywood after all. If I didn’t fuck girls who said stuff like this I’d be a monk here.
“Yeah,” I say, smiling, “I’m fucking loaded. You got a nice rack? Since we’re asking personal questions and all.”
“Thirty-four double-dees. As good as money can buy.”
Again, it’s a weird turn of phrase, but I’ve heard worse.
“So what are you offering?” I ask.
She laughs a little, and I can hear her tongue rolling around her lips as she does so. The combination of a husky voice and my imagination is pretty cock-pulling, and I’m pressing the cold whiskey glass against my boxers to keep my dick from bursting out like something in a monster movie.
“I’m offering a whole night of the dirtiest, nastiest stuff you could ever imagine,” she says, breathing into each word like her body’s so hot even she can’t handle it. My imagination is running wild. “We can do it slow…or we can do it fast…I’ll be like hot chocolate in your mouth…”
“How can I refuse…”
“…for only three grand.”
A cold shower could not have crippled my hard-on more. “What?! Are you fucking kidding me?”
Her voice is all innocence now. “What’s the matter, honey?”
“I thought this was a hook-up app, not a hooker app.” That’s one thing I don’t do.
She giggles. “It’s worth it, sugar. If I like you, I’ll even give you a discount.”
“Yeah, thanks, but no thanks. Paying for sex kinda kills it for me, you know? Good luck.”
I cancel the call and let it show me the big ‘chat’ button again. I take a healthy swig of the whiskey in my glass and decide to give it one more go.
I push the big button, bringing the phone to my ear. Someone picks up on the other end, but for a few moments all I hear is silence.
“Hello?” I say. Another quiet beat. I’m about to hang up when—
“Um…hello?”
The voice sounds quiet, feminine, definitely over the age of consent, and too nervous to be a hooker. So far so good.
“Well hello there.” It’s not my best line, but her hesitation tells me she’s new at using the app, which means I’ll have to take it slow so she doesn’t hang up before the fun even gets started.
“Hi,” she finally replies back. There’s an awkward silence.
Wow, we’re off to a great start.
“So…” I say, trying to sound friendly. “What’s your sign?”
She laughs, and it sounds nice. Genuine, soft, real – the kind of laugh that you don’t get in Hollywood too often. I laugh a bit too.
“Truthfully?” she says. “I’m…a Scorpio.”
“Oh really,” I reply, drawing out the word, insinuating this actually means something.
“Why does everyone always say it like that? I don’t even know what it means! It’s the sign of revenge, right? And jealousy? But that’s not me at all.”
“It’s also the sign of sex, death, and reinvention,” I tell her. “You know, like rising from the ashes. Big emphasis on the sex part, as it were.”
“Oh.” She giggles nervously, and I can practically hear her blushing over the phone. “That explains a lot, I guess.”
“Does it, now?” I’m intrigued. “Explain it to me. I’m all ears.”
She huffs out a breath, exasperated. “That’s not what I meant! I meant, it explains why people assume things about me, not that I’m some kind of nympho or something. I mean, it’s garbage, right? Nobody really believes in this stuff.” She laughs again, and I can feel the warmth in it. Or maybe it’s the drink, because at this point I’ve lost track of how many in I am.
“How very sensible of you,” I say.
“I don’t know if I’m sensible. I mean, I’m talking to a stranger on a booty-call app.”
“Bootycall app? I thought this was for ordering pizza.”
She giggles again, letting her nerves out, and something about it makes me smile.
“Sorry, this is my first time using this. Have you done this before?” she asks.
“What? Spoken to a woman with an incredibly cute laugh? Sure. Not that often, though.”
“Haha! Very charming. But I meant used this app.”
“A couple of times,” I say, figuring the white lie will help increase her comfort level. “You? Any internet dating, or—?”