“How should I know? I haven’t read the Murmur yet.”

“I’m serious, Zack. Have you caught a whale?”

He reached his cubicle and threw his jacket over the back of his desk chair. “You know, I’ve always hated that phrase. Whale conservation is nothing to joke about.”

Colette rolled her heavily mascaraed eyes. “Oh bullshit. If you care about whales, then I’m Jenna Jameson.”

“I don’t not care about them, and I’ve actually thought before that you bear a striking resemblance to—”

“Stop fucking around, Zack. I’m asking you directly: have you landed a repeat client? I’ve checked your logs, and the past two times you spoke with a client who called himself John, your conversations lasted well into double commission.”

Zack had no reason to keep the information from her, so he shrugged and said, “Yeah, this John guy has called twice. The first time, he got me randomly. The second time, he asked for me.”

“And now he’s called again?”

Zack shuffled his feet. “I guess.”

“Good,” she said. Her pink lips parted into a kittenish grin. “Make sure you treat him well. If he becomes a regular, your numbers will be where they need to be for once. Wouldn’t you like for me to finally get off your ass?”

“Depends on what you do while you’re there.” Zack winked.

“Very cute, as always,” she said tartly before turning away. “Don’t disappoint me.”

As soon as she left, Zack sat down at his desk and reached for the Murmur in question. It was as nondescript as the previous ones: it listed the client’s name, a request for dirty talk, and a time for him to call. Zack checked the time. It was six on the dot, and John didn’t want him to call until eight. He had plenty of time to prepare.

Now that Colette was gone, he let a frisson of excitement course through his body. He’d thought about John every day since their last conversation. He’d touched himself to the memory of his voice more than once. And now, he was going to get to talk to him again.

Hot, heady anticipation coiled in the pit of his stomach. He wondered what sort of scenario John would want to play out this time. Whatever it was, Zack was certain it would give him a week’s worth of masturbatory fantasies.

He spent the next two hours doing everything he could to make time pass more quickly. He checked his company email—something he never did unless Colette threatened him—and took a few random clients. He didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention to them, though. He might have described paint drying, punctuated by the occasional half-assed moan, for all he knew. Even with the extra work, time passed far too slowly. Zack checked the batteries on his clock twice to ensure it was still working.

Finally, at 7:52 p.m., Zack decided he’d had enough. He picked up his desk phone and dialed the extension, holding the receiver between his shoulder and ear. He drummed his fingers on his desk as he waited for the ring. He listened to the familiar clicking sounds transfer him anonymously to the correct line.