“My brassiere is un-hooked,” murmured the sultry voice on the other end of the line. “It’s purple and see-through and silky soft, and I’m going to let it slip from my breasts very, very slowly. If we didn’t have these two phones between us, you could see my nipples peeking over the edge right about now.”

I was at my desk in the big New York law firm where I work. We’d had a whole new phone system installed that week, and although it was supposed to be state-of-the-art, the bugs hadn’t been worked out yet. This wasn’t the first call I’d gotten that was meant for somebody else, but without a doubt it was the most interesting. I know I should have informed this sexy-voiced young female that she had reached the wrong number.

So sue me — I didn’t.

“Well,” I said, muffling my voice a little with my hand so she wouldn’t realize I was somebody other than her lover. She didn’t know who I was, but then, I didn’t know who she was, either — so we were even.

“I know you’ re in the middle of a busy office, baby,” she whispered, “so you can let me do most of the talking this time.”

Who the devil was she calling? I asked myself, looking out over the huge room full of desks. Which one of the guys was lucky enough to get this kind of call on a Monday morning?

Oh Darling, I know how much you like my breasts, especially my nipples, so I think I’ll tease you a little. Remember when you just pulled my tank top down and starting sucking? That was great, but now I’ll give you only a little at a time. Right now, sweetheart, I’m edging the top of my bra down over my left nipple. And, oh my, it’s already starting to puff up. It’s swelling up just like it does when you stroke it with your warm hands.”

I groaned in response.

“My puffy little nipple wants to be sucked right now, baby. It wants your hot mouth on it, sucking, licking it. Lick it, honey, oh, yes, lick it.” She was breathing into the telephone, her voice getting lower and hotter. “I’ll just have to play with it myself, I guess, squeeze it just like you do.”

She gasped and moaned, and I got a clear picture in my mind of slender white fingers pinching and squeezing a puffy, erect, pink nipple.

Her nipple wasn’t the only thing getting erect here. Thank god I was seated at my desk so nobody could see. My cock was straining against my trousers and starting to throb with passion.

“I just threw my bra across the room,” she said, “so my breasts are free now. You love to see me move when I’m not wearing a bra, don’t you? Like I am right now, with my big, firm tits swinging back and forth, with my nipples sticking up and out, begging to be sucked. I’m running my hands over my tits now, teasing my nipples, cupping my boobs in my hands and lifting them up like you love to have me do, so you can bury your face in them.”

“Mmmm,” I murmured, gazing out at an office full of scurrying legal types and picturing two beautiful, soft white mounds and me sinking my face deep in their warmth.

“Yes, yes,” she moaned, “I’ll push them together so you can hide your face in them. And if you’re a good boy, I’ll let you suck both of my nipples at the same time. You love that, don’t you? You love to flick your hot tongue back and forth from one to the other and suck them both into your mouth and nibble on one and then the other. You know how crazy that makes me.”

An attractive female paralegal strolled past my desk and dropped a file folder in front of me.

“Here’s the Porter case,” she said, smiling.

I put my hand over the phone. “Oh,” I said, my voice husky, “that’s wonderful.”

She did a little double take. “Are you all right?”

“Oh sure,” I said, trying to get my normal voice back. “Just into some hot negotiations here.”

She grinned. “Stick it to ’em,” she said, strolling off. I wished I could.

“What’s going on there?” the sultry voice on the line asked. “Do I have your complete attention? I’d better have, because my pussy is getting envious of my tits. It wants some attention of its own, it wants that educated, clever lawyer’s tongue of yours down there right now. That’s where I’ll put my hand, baby. My hand is your mouth. And I’ll play with my own pussy, tickle my clit and pretend it’s you. I’ll bet you wish you weren’t at work right now, but someplace private so you could do what I’m doing. I’m going to make myself come and fantasize that it’s you doing it, and let you listen and eat your heart out.”

Now all I could hear were her moans and gasps and breathing; they got hotter and hotter as she stroked her pussy. I could hear that she was getting ready to come, and when she did, she shrieked so loud I thought I’d drop the phone. Perspiration had broken out on my forehead, and my cock was throbbing like a bass drum in a marching band.

Finally she spoke again. “well, sugar,” she said, her voice almost back to normal. “Was that as good as the last time I called you?”

Looking around the big office, I wondered which of these guys got called “sugar” by this sweet young lady.

“I have a confession to make,” I said, not muffling my voice this time.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “You’re not … who I thought you were. Are you?”

“Nope.” I started to apologize.

She laughed good-naturedly. “I forgive you. And I did come on kind of strong, didn’t I? I can’t imagine any guy hanging up on that. Did I bring some joy into an otherwise gray Monday?”

“You sure did,” I said. We chatted for a couple of minutes, and then she hung up, leaving me with a hard cock and plenty to think about.

I thought about my marriage, mostly. Sheila and I were both thirty … something, and we’d been together for about five years. She’s tall and slender with long, slim legs, breasts that are full and firm, and reddish-brown hair. Our sexual relationship was fine, just fine — but it had gotten a little predictable. Sheila is an attorney too, and works for a midtown firm that specializes in entertainment issues. We both worked extremely long hours. We were careful to pencil sex into our appointment books a couple of times a week, knowing that we could always cancel if something really important came up, such as a court appearance or taking a deposition from a client.

Well, I thought with a sly grin, I think I know a way to change all that. I went into the mail room, which is usually deserted at that hour, and dialed Sheila’s office number, hoping that her firm’s phone system was working better than mine.

Sheila answered the phone in her usual business-like way. “Hi, babe,” I said. “It’s me.”

We traded a little small talk, and I could tell that she was going through papers as we spoke. I wanted her complete attention.

“I’ve been thinking about your pussy, Sheila,” I said, my voice low.

She didn’t answer for a couple of seconds. Then she said, “Thinking about my what? ”

“Your pussy. I’ve been thinking about it. Meditating about how sweet it tasted the last time I licked it, how your tawny little bush tickled my nose; dreaming about how wet it got, how your clit puffed up.”

“Don,” she whispered, “what on earth are you….”

“I’ve been thinking about how you couldn’t lie still while I licked your pussy, while my tongue tickled your little clit; how you moved your hips; how you wrapped your lovely legs around my shoulders and grabbed my head and pushed it down deeper and moved it around.”

Now I could hear her breathing on the other end of the line. “Don,” she said, but that’s all she said. I had her attention now.

“Remember? Remember how I reached up and stroked your breasts, how I pinched your nipples? For a while you just moaned, but then you said something … I can’t quite remember what it was you said.”

She whispered the word. “That’s what I said. ‘Fuck me, baby, fuck me.’” She was into it!

“Well, counselor, your learned opposition would like to deliver his summation in person,” I said. “Can you clear an hour of your schedule this afternoon?”

“You got it,” she said. We agreed to meet back at our apartment, and we did. We were both out of our clothes by the time we reached the bedroom.

“Hey, big guy, you’ve never talked to me like that before,” Sheila said, wrapping her arms around me and kissing me. I told her I’d gotten the impression that she liked it.

“Wrong, counselor. I loved it.”

“It’s a game two can play, you know,” I said, not really knowing whether she’d enter into this new kind of sensual play I’d stumbled on.

She smiled and moved her hips a little from side to side so I could feel her bush stroking my cock. I wasn’t hard yet, but I could feel it beginning to tingle.

“Sit down on the bed,” Sheila murmured. “I want to play a little game.” I was ready for anything, and I sat down.

“Now open your legs,” she said, “so your beautiful prick has plenty of room.” I did what she told me. She knelt in front of me. “I want to watch your cock slowly getting harder. I won’t touch it — I’ll just talk to it.” Her voice was a murmuring caress. My cock was beginning to stir, starting to rise. She certainly was getting into it.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her full, soft lips only an inch or so from the head of my cock. “I want to see it get bigger and bigger and harder and harder. Imagine how nice it would feel to have my tongue flicking all around the head of your cock. Would that make it hard? Would that set it throbbing?”

“Yes, yes,” l moaned, looking down at my cock, which now was standing up like a flagpole .

“Mmm,” Sheila murmured. “Your prick would love my tongue right now, wouldn’t it? Love to be licked? I could start way down there at your balls and lick them first, and then slowly, slowly come up your big shaft like it was an all-day sucker and slurp all around that big purple knob on the end.”

Her tongue darted out of her mouth, pink and beautiful, to flutter around my cock — not touching, just teasing.

“Oh, God, Sheila,” I said. “I don’t know if I can stand this. My cock feels ready to explode.”

“That sounds nice,” she whispered. “It can explode and send all that hot juice into my mouth, down my throat. First I’d have to take your big prick in my mouth, put my soft lips around it and take it all, inch by inch, deeper than I’ve ever taken it before.”

“Sheila, please,” I cried. “Please.”

“Tell me,” she said. “Say what you want.”

“I want you to put it in your mouth right now,” I said, and as I said it, she did it. Between gasps and moans, I managed to get more words out.

“Just the tip, baby, tease it with your tongue,” I said. “Run your tongue all around it. Slower, baby, slower. Yes!”

As she teased the head of my cock, I reached down to take hold of her breasts. Her nipples were hard already, like two tiny, swollen plums. Her gasp when I squeezed them was muffled by my cock. Sheila’s hands were busy too — I could feel her trailing gentle nails around my balls, and then she went lower still, to the extremely sensitive spot behind them.

“Sheila, baby, darling, yes, yes,” I moaned. “I want to come, I want you to take my cock, suck it, take it all. Yes, that’s it, baby, deeper, take it deeper. Stroke it, sweetheart, yes, yes, up and down, in and out.”

I let go of her tits and just lay back on the bed, moaning now and gasping with pleasure as the pressure built. My cock was a shuttle on the launchpad during countdown. When it finally blasted off, I screamed with pleasure and my hot juices shot out of my prick and into Sheila’s hot slurping mouth.

“We can take a recess for the afternoon,” Sheila purred, giving my prick a little squeeze. “With the stipulation that the attorneys meet this evening so that the needs of all concerned parties can be satisfied.”

“So agreed,” I said, laughing. “You’re so sexy when you talk like a lawyer.”

We rolled around on the bed, laughing and playing, freer with each other than we’d ever been. After a quick shower, we rushed back to our respective law offices, both of us looking forward to quitting time as never before.

That evening, before we made love again, I told Sheila all about the phone call I’d received that morning. She thought it was outrageously funny and the most fantastic thing that had happened to us in a long time.

“I love what we did today,” she said. “It’s strange. I’ve been an attorney for six years, and I know about the power of words. I just never thought about applying it to sex.”

I agreed with her. Then I said, “You know, we should try something.”

I told her how incredibly sexy that young woman’s voice had been, and that something about the fact that it was on the phone had added to the exhilaration. Sheila grinned, guessing what I had in mind.

We started our sex with me on the pay phone outside our building and her on the phone in our bedroom. Sheila’s voice whispering in my ear seemed to reach right down into my soul. After a while I hung up and rode the elevator to our floor, hoping no one would notice the bulge in my slacks. The lights were turned low in the bedroom, and Sheila lay there with her hands behind her head, so that her beautiful breasts were gloriously presented to me. Her legs were open, her pussy already glistening with her hot, sweet juices.

A few days later, I was sitting at my desk grousing with a couple of my colleagues about office politics. Harry straddled the extra chair, and Doris half sat on a comer of my desk.

My phone rang. I answered it. “My afternoon court appearance was postponed,” Sheila said. “So I’m playing hooky, and I went home. Guess what I’m doing right now.” I wanted Doris and Harry to get up and go, but in our crowded and busy office, we often take calls with co-workers close by, and they just sat there, ready to get back to our discussion.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to fill me in on … that particular case,” I said.

Sheila chuckled, realizing that I wasn’t alone and relishing it. “I’m lying on our bed, Don, and I don’t have a thing on except that perfume you bought me for our anniversary and a big smile. Want to know why I’m smiling?”

“Of course,” I said, glancing up at Doris and Harry. “I’d like to get all the facts.”

“Fact number one,” she purred, “is that I’m running my fingertips ever so gently across my breasts, starting up by my shoulders and softly, slowly caressing them, all the way down to my nipples. Oh, that feels so good, almost as good as when you do it.” Her breathing and low moans were like secrets whispered in my ear.

“That’s something we will … explore more fully when we can arrange a meeting,” I said, struggling to keep my voice under control. My cock was starting to swell, and my face was getting hot.

Moans, gasps, a little cry. “I’m squeezing my nipples now, Don, rolling them around between my fingers. Don’t you wish you were doing it to me?”

“Certainly,” I said. “That sounds like a workable suggestion.”

“My pussy is getting wet,” she murmured, “and hot and slippery. I’m putting my hand down there right now, brushing it across my fluffy bush, easing it between my legs, sliding one finger as deep as I can into … ahhh … in my cunt. My thumb is flicking across my clit while my finger goes in, and my clit is swelling up.”

“Yes,” I said, my voice husky, “there are certainly precedents for that.”

“Oh, Don, sweetie, honey,” she whispered, “I’m getting so fucking hot, playing with myself, imagining your big stiff cock digging into me, plunging in hard and deep. Your hands grabbing my tits and holding them like love handles while you nail me to the bed with your big spike.” She moaned and gasped and I knew she was about to come.

“Just follow your instincts on that,” I said. “I think we’re looking at a very short time frame on this one.”

I hoped Doris and Harry couldn’t hear Sheila scream as she came. They were looking at me just a bit oddly. Her last words to me, in a breathless whisper, were “Don’t be late getting home.”

“That can be arranged,” I said and hung up. I looked at Doris and Harry, hoping I sounded almost natural. “These clients,” I said. “They can be a pain sometimes.” They smiled and nodded in commiseration. I almost laughed.

My working life has been enriched enormously by the fact that at any time during the day, the phone is likely to ring with the most exciting message. Just the sound of Sheila’s voice in my ear sends a rush of pleasure through my body and my mind. Or I can pick up the phone and dial Sheila’s number. As I listen to the telephone ringing, my cock is already perking up with interest. I’m sure there are times when my colleagues wonder why I’m grinning from ear to ear as I sit there clutching the phone tightly.

Our sexual relationship has improved beyond words, and the irony is that it’s words that did it. Sometimes during an evening at home, Sheila will whisper something like “Shall we go into the bedroom and talk things over?” Or it might be me who makes that suggestion.

My wife and I communicate freely now, turning the verbal part of sex into an electrifying game. And to think that it all started with a wrong number.