Call Me (6 page)

“I want them to grasp the process,” Joelle adds and I agree, moving to the laptop and securing the cord to the projector. “I think that’s important. Maybe I can talk about some research guidelines and give them a few starting points to check out. Stress the importance of not typing ‘thesis topics’ into Google. Explain how that never works. Encourage them to be unique.”

“Good call, and mention to avoid anything Wikipedia says.” I shake my head. I’ve seen too many people opt out of using traditional research methods and getting slammed by the Wiki. A site where unfortunately any Tom, Dick or Harry can add bits of info without confirming accuracy or validity. As grad students, you’d think they’d know this by now, but there’s always one. “Sam, you can talk about how we’ll be working together to help them achieve the end goal of completing their thesis. Tell them we know how stressful it is and how we have a lot of experience, to ask for help along the way, not to save it until they’re freaking out.”

“Sounds good,” Sam answers. “I can definitely share my story. Thought I was going to have to drop the course, I was at such a standstill with mine.”

“Perfect. They’ll relate to that.”

I’m hoping they’ll see we are here to help along the way and actually take us up on using us as resources. The possibility of getting their papers featured in a published journal is a huge feat, one I know many fourth years bank on to pad their resumes. The film business is tough, so talent’s not always enough, everyone needs that little bit extra. I want to set a positive tone, and encourage them to remain focused on the end goal and not get distracted.

However, when Ellie walks in, I zone out—
distracted—
just as I had been when I spotted her on the first day of class. And, subsequently, each one since as she takes her seat which, I might add, is right in front of me, every Monday and Wednesday morning in my Sexual Aesthetics/Representations class.
Distracting me.

Ellie is very distracting. She’s gorgeous, and from what I’ve seen so far, she’s bright too. She’s always ready to offer her opinion, and seems to have a real passion for gender equality in films, referencing the Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media and Emma Watson as huge influences, women who’ve inspired her as a female wanting to work in the industry. Ellie went on about how Geena Davis is a force in the equal representation of women in film movement, sharing how Davis encourages all women to demand an equitable working environment; from actresses to grips, no woman should allow herself to be underpaid or made to feel less relevant than her male counterparts. Ellie spoke with so much conviction that I did more research into the Geena Davis Institute.

For the first time, one of my students sparked a curiosity in me so strong that I decided to immediately catch myself up on the Institute’s progress. It’s been a few years since I’ve looked into it, wanting to become more conscientious of the lack of equality that might exist for many of my students in the industry. I hadn’t really revisited the topic since I included a few examples in an article on gender bias which I published in
Reel West
magazine.

I was very impressed with the work being done by these two actors. Along with Ellie’s passion, the combination led me to decide this was something I needed to stay current on. I’d like to keep better informed about the issues facing women in the film industry so much that I have now liked and followed both Davis and Watson on social media.

Aside from equality, I’ve also come to discover that Ms. Hughes is obsessed with film adaptations. That was another tangent that I thoroughly enjoyed listening to her go on about.

“Ace, you ready, sir? Everything all right?” Jax’s concerned voice asks, jolting me out of being lost in thoughts of her.

I run my hand through my hair. “Yeah, sorry. I thought I forgot my USB drive is all.”

“Does
she
have it?” He nods towards where Court and Ellie are talking.

“Not sure who you mean, Jax. I was just thinking where I put it last, is all,” I say, trying to deny my staring.

I’m becoming more and more convinced that Ellie Hughes is the creator of some sort of voodoo spell that has me in her clutches. She calls to me on some crazy level that I can’t even begin to understand. Which is completely baffling, because she’s barely my type. I prefer blondes usually; ones with light curves, a more scholarly look, and a bit older.

“Sure thing, Professor. Well, in case you missed it, the blonde and that redhead are both attractive,” Jax says, smirking.

“I’m sure they are, but that’s not what we’re here for, right?”

“Of course not, Ace, I was only observing. And it’s all in the Google Drive folder, no need for a stick anymore,” he says, pulling up the folder on the laptop.

“Perfect. I forgot we uploaded it. Thanks.”

Having spied her walking into the room affected me immediately. Sure, I looked like an idiot. I fumbled through the introductions, took longer to set up the PowerPoint presentation—my usual confidant self-wavering, all because some curvy redhead is messing with my head. Luckily, I don’t think anyone really noticed, but I noticed all right…and I guess Jax did.

Thankfully, by the time I was ready to begin, she’d sat down with Courtney at the back where I couldn’t maintain direct eye contact. Bad enough I’d been caught off guard by her presence in FSD470B4, I didn’t need this again now. I don’t know if I can keep my composure having her in two of my classes. I’ve never reacted to a student like this before, and I need to get this under control and quick.

Being thirty-two and in my first few years of teaching higher education, I need to be extra cautious, diligent even. On average, my students aren’t much younger than I am, leaving me to have to be careful to uphold, follow, and stay within the strict boundaries of university policy, plus the ones I’ve put in place for myself. I will never cross the line of student/teacher relationship.

I’ve been extremely lucky to get where I am at my age, trust me I can acknowledge that, but truth be told, I’m good at what I do. I’ve earned the right to hold this position, and I will continue to keep the trust I’ve earned. I know people have taken a risk giving me this chance, so the last thing I’ll do is screw it up, especially over some student. I’ve always been extra careful to maintain my professionalism and to make sure to never put myself in a compromising position. But with just one look at her, all thoughts went exactly there: to all the compromising positions in which I could put this beautiful girl.

Deep auburn hair, hazel brown eyes, eyes that warm my skin like the melted chocolate running in rivers in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. Delicious-looking lips that would no doubt taste incredible. What I wouldn’t give to suck on that pouty lower lip, run my tongue over it, to watch those eyes as they change from an innocent student’s to ones which reflect the lust I know my touch will elicit from her. I want to test my theory but I know I shouldn’t.

No, I know I can’t.

But fuck if I don’t want to.

Ellie

D
ouble-checking my phone’s
Google Maps app, I’m happy to see that the address for the call centre (as I’ve come to refer to it when talking about my new job) is quite a bit closer to campus than I had originally thought. I can totally handle a fifteen-minute bus ride.

But walking up the steps towards a series of floor-to-ceiling glass windows, I see nothing to indicate that I’m actually in the right place. Looking around for the marker Mr. Conrad told me I’d see, I begin to wonder if I’ve written down the wrong address. Opening the heavy glass door, I see the security desk and offer the tall, awfully sexy, dark-skinned man behind it a shy wave. I’m just about to ask him if I’m in the right spot when I see the painting of the hockey player Mr. Conrad told me to stand under. Ken Danby’s “Lacing Up” hangs on the far wall of the building. Nodding to the security guard, I make my way to stand by the painting. Not even a minute later, I hear an excited voice headed my way.

“Welcome to Breathless Whispers! I’m Destiny, you must be Ellie,” the pretty blonde, blue-eyed woman with tight bouncing curls greets me.

“Uh-huh,” is all I can manage, my eyes transfixed, fascinated, as she chomps incessantly on her gum, making her way to meet me in the exact spot Mr. Conrad told me I’d meet my trainer tonight. Finally, I smile, extending my hand to shake hers. “Yes, sorry, I’m Ellie. Hello, it’s…er, nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure to meetcha too.” She pops a loud bubble, and I gawk at her again, this time taking in her pink leopard print shirt, one that matches her extremely bright pink nails perfectly. “I’m soooooo excited to train ya, you’re my first little protégé. And I’m pumped!” Destiny gasps excitedly, forcing my eyes to focus back to her face while at the same time my heart rate picks up again as I question internally what the hell I’m doing here. “It’ll be great. We’ll be fast friends, I can feel it. Trust me, we’ll be getting to know each other real good this week, eh?” she assures, and I can’t hide the loss of my smile at the images her words have me imagining.

Letting out a laugh Destiny shakes her head. “Aw, you’re an innocent one, aren’t ya? I didn’t mean anything by it, sweets. I only meant you’re gonna hear me in action, and I’m gonna share my tricks of the trade with ya, nothing more. I mean you’re a real knock out and all, but this isn’t that kind of place, and I’m not into rugs,” she winks, gesturing to the sterile office building in which we’re standing. It’s a smaller building located in the upscale area of Toronto’s Liberty Village. I honestly expected the office to be in a shadier part of the city, but as Mr. Conrad assured me that Breathless Whispers was all about “Class, Discretion, and the Happy Ending”. I can almost see the smirk I heard in his voice the other day when he interviewed me, as I think of the double meaning on that last bit.
What kind of “Happy Ending”, exactly?

Making our way over to the bank of elevators, I shift nervously on my Converse-covered feet.
This is really happening. No turning back now, I guess.

“You ready to learn how to be a Phone Sex Superhero?” Destiny asks.

I laugh, despite my nerves being on the fritz, because she has got to be kidding. This girl is seriously something else.
Maybe we really will become friends?
“Phone Sex Superhero, eh? Is that how I should see this job?”

“Hell, yes, sweets! The shit you will do to get a client off is definitely hero work. I’ve coined the phrase and I’m making it stick,” she laughs, licking her index finger and gesturing as if she’s keeping score. The move causes me to belt out a laugh as I join her in the elevator, all the while shaking my head.

The ride is quick. Before I realize it, we’re exiting onto the 7
^th-
floor.

“Come on, let me give you the tour.”

“Sounds good, I think,” I say, while falling in step behind the petite blonde spitfire. She really is pretty, and I’m curious what her story is. She looks to be around my age, maybe a few years older. I want to ask her why she’s here, but seeing as we’ve just met, I refrain, not exactly wanting to spill my beans yet, either. Maybe after tonight I’ll feel comfortable to pry, seeing as we’ll be besties.

Moving along the dimly lit corridor, Destiny opens a secured door with a black plastic pass the size of a credit card.

“You’ll need this security pass to enter and exit. It’s a bulletproof double-entry door with short-circuit cameras. We use this so we can come and go twenty-four hours a day. There isn’t always someone at the desk, so this way the place is secure with the girls all holding different work hours,” she tells me, waving the card as we walk through.

“We’ll make sure you get yours tonight. You’ll need it to get around in here. The Conrads are all about security, secrecy and selling sexy.” She lifts her brows playfully.

“Huh, the four ‘S’s’. Mr. and Mrs. Conrad are real
scholars
to have thought up that
sassy
alliteration.” I smile at my lame joke, which causes Destiny to look at me as if I’m just as lame. “Sorry. Nerves,” I mutter.

“It’s fine. I get it. We’ve all been there.” She offers a reassuring smile.

“Wait.” I stop. “I thought the motto was ‘Class, Discretion, and the Happy Ending?’” I ask, confusion evident in my tone.

Destiny walks back my way, pausing in front of me. “Shit, you really are a bundle of nerves aren’t ya, sweets? He has two mottos. That’s the motto for clients; the other is for us workers. The Conrads are very good bosses; they will do almost anything to make sure we girls are happy and protected. All they ask in return is that we maintain the ‘Class, Discretion, and the Happy Ending’, for all clients with each phone call. Don’t worry though, I’ll teach you all of this, I swear. I promise, once you get the hang of it, you’ll be asking yourself why you didn’t do this sooner. The money that you make here is incredible. I bought a condo, go to Vegas on the regular, and even have some for my savings. Trust me,” she says, opening a door simply marked “701” once we exited the glass chambered hallway.

Walking across the threshold, I’m met with vibrant walls painted a light lilac in I would describe simply as an office. Yep. A plain old, everyday-type of office, definitely not the setting I expected for a high-end phone sex service.

“This is where you’ll check in.” Destiny waves at a woman sitting at the desk in the centre of the room. “This,” she gestures at the immaculately dressed grey-haired woman, “is Greta. She’s the eyes and ears of Breathless. She deals with setting up all the new hires, arranges training, handles all the admin duties like scheduling, updating the website, and—most important—is our pay goddess. She also makes sure we all show up and aren’t on drugs or drinking. She also deals with any emergencies should they arise, and best of all she’s our at-work mama. Well, between the hours of 11 a.m. to 7 p.m., anyway. Unless she’s pulling a late shift.” Destiny smiles warmly at the older woman. “Greta’s been known to work the nights with us sometimes. We all think it’s so she can keep an eye on us, but she swears it’s because she likes the quiet, and can get more done after hours. But, regardless, we all love her. Right, Greta?”