Call Me Cat (Call Me Cat Trilogy #1)(17)

I couldn't imagine living with the death of someone on my conscience and wondered what it did to his.

"Now fess up, Cat. What's your biggest regret?"

How much did he know about me already? About the real me, not the phone sex operator. I couldn't risk bringing up my real regrets. That I didn't act sooner to save my parents. That I didn't stop the man before he escaped. So I picked something easier to talk about. "I have a lot of regrets, some so old they've grown into something else I can no longer identify. But lately I've wondered how much I'll regret this job, once I've finished my education and am happily married with kids and a career. Will I look back and realize there were other options that I didn't look hard enough to see? Will it scar me in some way that damages me beyond repair, preventing me from creating the life I imagine for my future? So I guess my biggest regret is what might be my biggest future regret, if that makes sense."

"It does," he said. "How do you feel about this job now? Right now, not in five years or ten years, but tonight?"

"I don't know. At first it was really hard, and sometimes it still is, but it's gotten easier. I have some regulars that call in. Guys who seem harmless, lonely. I guess I'm getting comfortable in this role, and that scares me most of all. Who am I becoming that all of this feels normal now?"

"You're adapting to your life circumstances. That's a healthy response and one that helps you cope. There's nothing to be ashamed of in that."

"I guess not."

"Tell me about your clients. Who's your favorite?"

I laughed. "Is this where I'm supposed to say you?"

"Of course," he said, a smile in his voice.

"I will confess that talking with you doesn't suck sweaty monkey balls."

"Sweaty monkey balls? That's… creative. And gross. I'd hoped I'd rate at least as high as clean man balls."

For the next hour we bantered back and forth, not talking about anything, really, but sharing something nonetheless. I felt alone and a little empty when we finally hung up the phone, and I wondered not for the first time what I was doing having this relationship with one man who thought I was two women. Guilt tore at me for what this might do to him, and to me, when the truth came out, because I finally realized that somehow, someday, the truth would come out. It couldn't be avoided at the rate I was going.

When the phone rang again, I didn't want to answer, but I had a shopping trip tomorrow with Bridgette and would need the money to cover rent. My recent check would barely replace all my clothes and schoolbooks.

So I took the call and didn't balk when Donna told me this client wanted something a little different.

"This is Cat, how may I pleasure you tonight?"

"Hi, sweetheart. What are you wearing right now?"

I went through one of my scripts. The black lace and satin with stilettos one, and waited for him to give me an indication of what he wanted, which didn't take long.

"You're a single mom in desperate need of a job," he said. "And I've hired you and given you and your daughter a place to live at my house, where I work from home. You answer my calls, take down information, write letters, that kind of thing. Make sense?"

"Yeah, baby, I can do that for. Whatever you need. How do you want me dressed for work?"

"You're wearing a short skirt with no panties and a button down white blouse with no bra."

I worked with his fantasy, doing everything I thought would turn him on within the world he'd created. But then… things turned strange. He said I'd messed up an important letter and needed to be punished. When he undid his belt, lifted my skirt and bent me over the table, he wanted me to scream. Like, actually scream. I hid in my closet in the guest room, hoping no one would hear as I acted out this torture.

But it didn't stop there. After he forced himself on me in a rape scenario, he asked me to get my daughter. When I brought her in, he started touching her, and told me to torture her, or he would, and worse. Bile rose in my throat, and I couldn't breathe. I was about to hang up when I heard someone in the background. Someone banging on wood and a little girl'svoice saying, "Daddy, please let me out now. Can I come out?" She was crying, and so was I.

I hung up, nearly hyperventilating, and called my handler at The Pleasure Palace and told her what happened. She sounded horrified and vowed to call the police and give them any information they had on the guy.

I ended the call, but couldn't stop shaking. I ran a hot bath and soaked in it until the water was cold and my fingers pruned. I couldn't stop thinking about what that man had wanted me to do. Couldn't stop wondering what kind of monster got aroused by such violence.

That night my nightmares turned darker, and when I woke up I vowed to quit my job once and for all, even if that meant dropping out of law school.





Chapter Fourteen


Ethical Conundrum


BRIDGETTE HAD SPENT the night at her new boyfriend's house (someone I hadn't even met yet), and was going to have him drop her off at the mall later that day so we could shop. So I borrowed her car to run errands in the morning. I hadn't heard back from The Pleasure Palace, so I didn't know if anything had come of the creep last night. I also hadn't told them I was quitting. The thought scared me. The thought of losing it all, of not being at Harvard, not being at law school. What career could I pursue with my current degrees? I couldn't teach at the University level. I could go into law enforcement. I was aptly qualified and would just have to go through the academy. It was something to consider.