“A newb, huh?” Zack asked. “Welcome to the glamorous phone sex industry.” He eyed Pete’s skin again and rubbed his own stubbly jaw. Maybe he should start waxing.

“Yeah, I just started Monday. I have to say, I had no idea what to expect, and after three days, I still don’t.”

“You never will,” Alexa said cheerfully. “Every day I walk into the office thinking I’ve heard it all, and every day I’m proven wrong.”

“Tell me about it,” Pete said, his eyes growing wide. He glanced over his shoulder and then leaned toward them. “Just now, I had a client who wanted me to take a phone into—”

“The bathroom,” Zack and Alexa finished simultaneously.

Pete looked startled and embarrassed. “Um, yeah. How’d you know?”

“That’s a pretty common request,” Alexa answered. “I don’t know why, but men love to listen to you pee.”

“Just wait until you get into the really colorful shit,” Zack said, slapping Pete on the back. He clipped a shoulder blade and winced. It was like hitting a shard of glass. “Did you and Colette set your boundaries?”

“Yeah,” Pete said. “It seemed sort of unnecessary. I mean, no one is really going to call in and ask for—”

“Yes, they will,” Alexa and Zack interrupted again.

“Trust us,” Alexa continued. “Those boundaries are there for your mental well-being. They only stop about half the callers, but you’ll be grateful that you don’t have to deal with that half. What did you pick?”

Pete shifted from foot to foot. “Um, incest, rape fantasies, underage, and sadism.”

“Not bad.” Zack cocked his head. “You might want to be more specific about sadism, though. You’d think that would cover a variety of kinks, but if you don’t list something by name, clients will assume it’s on the table. I’d specify knife and blood play to start. We get a lot of requests for those.”

“Since you’re dishing out advice anyway, there is one thing I wanted to ask about. I don’t mean to sound rude, but I was expecting the people who worked here to be . . .” He gestured vaguely.

“Young?” Alexa suggested.

“Hot?” Zack supplied.

“Uh, not exactly. I guess I’m surprised that most of the people here look like I’d see them at the grocery store with their kids. Why is everyone so . . . normal, I guess?”

“You don’t have to be a model to be a PSO. You just have to have the right voice,” Zack answered. “There’s one woman who works here who’s a grandmother, and she’s one of our most popular operators because she sounds like a giggly sorority girl. Though being hot certainly doesn’t hurt.” Zack winked.

Pete blushed and cleared his throat. “Fair enough. Out of curiosity, does anyone service women callers? I’m signed up exclusively for men, and all the people I’ve spoken to only take men as well.”

“Nope,” Zack responded. “The ladies are sadly excluded, and not just by our company either. Most hotlines won’t do women. Every now and then we’ll get a client who wants his wife or girlfriend to listen in, but otherwise this is an old boys’ club.” Zack held up an indignant finger. “As a feminist, I, for one, am outraged.”