you.”
Derek gives me a playful wink that sends a sharp chill of desire down my spine. “Don’t mention it.” He tells me.
I close the door and watch as his gorgeous red sports car disappears completely around the next street corner, then immediately walk as briskly as possible to a payphone at the nearby connivance store.
First, I call for a taxi to come pick me up, then immediately hang up and dial Bruce’s phone number.
I nervously shift my weight back and forth under the mini market’s neon green glow. As the phone’s receiver begins to ring back at me through the headset, I focus on altering myself internally, lengthen or shortening the size of my vocal cords.
“Hello?” I practice aloud, my voice dropping a full octave. I try again, tightening things up as I go. “Hello? Hello?” I play with the word in my mouth, trying to find my best approximation of Derek’s voice until Bruce answers abruptly.
“This is Bruce.” Comes the man’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Hey there, it’s Derek.” I say, impressed by the tone that I’ve been able to craft for myself, especially having never done this before.
“Derek?” Bruce asks, noticing something strange in my voice. “Is everything alright?”
“No man.” I tell him. “I need you to come over here.”
“Shit.” Bruce says, fully alert now. “I’m on my way.”
“Wait!” I tell him. “I’m in my second loft downtown, you have the address to this one?”
“You’ve got more than one place down there? Let me see here.” Bruce says, pulling his phone away form his mouth for a moment. I can hear some papers rustling around in the background. “Okay, the address I have is 472 Main St. Apartment #1507, is that the one?”
A devilish smile crosses my face. “Yep, that’s it. You remember the gate code?”
“Of course I do.” Bruce tells me. “Back-to-back whips!”
I freeze, having no idea what the man just said to me. “What?” I finally ask.
“Two whips.” Bruce repeats.
I’m completely dumbfounded. What does this have to do with the building’s gate code?
“Derek?” Bruce asks, a sudden stab of skepticism in his throat. “This is Derek isn’t it?”
“I… Um.” I stammer, my voice cracking slightly as I lose my concentration.
A taxi pulls up behind me and honks twice, causing me to throw up my hand in recognition that my ride has arrived.
“Who the fuck is this?” Bruce demands to know.
“I’m sorry, I think I’m actually gonna be fine tonight.” I tell Bruce. “Don’t worry about coming by.”
I hang up the phone and then run over to the cab and climb into the backseat, “472 Main street!” I tell him.
The cab peels out into the warm Los Angeles night, heading for downtown as my mind races in the backseat. I’m terrified by my actions, yet somehow impressed by my own devious resourcefulness. Still, there’s one kink in my plan that I’ve got no idea how to work out.
“Can I ask you a question?” I finally say to the driver, an overweight man with dark features and a smug smile. “Do you know what a whip is?”
The cab driver laughs. “A whip? Of course I know what a whip
Derek gives me a playful wink that sends a sharp chill of desire down my spine. “Don’t mention it.” He tells me.
I close the door and watch as his gorgeous red sports car disappears completely around the next street corner, then immediately walk as briskly as possible to a payphone at the nearby connivance store.
First, I call for a taxi to come pick me up, then immediately hang up and dial Bruce’s phone number.
I nervously shift my weight back and forth under the mini market’s neon green glow. As the phone’s receiver begins to ring back at me through the headset, I focus on altering myself internally, lengthen or shortening the size of my vocal cords.
“Hello?” I practice aloud, my voice dropping a full octave. I try again, tightening things up as I go. “Hello? Hello?” I play with the word in my mouth, trying to find my best approximation of Derek’s voice until Bruce answers abruptly.
“This is Bruce.” Comes the man’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Hey there, it’s Derek.” I say, impressed by the tone that I’ve been able to craft for myself, especially having never done this before.
“Derek?” Bruce asks, noticing something strange in my voice. “Is everything alright?”
“No man.” I tell him. “I need you to come over here.”
“Shit.” Bruce says, fully alert now. “I’m on my way.”
“Wait!” I tell him. “I’m in my second loft downtown, you have the address to this one?”
“You’ve got more than one place down there? Let me see here.” Bruce says, pulling his phone away form his mouth for a moment. I can hear some papers rustling around in the background. “Okay, the address I have is 472 Main St. Apartment #1507, is that the one?”
A devilish smile crosses my face. “Yep, that’s it. You remember the gate code?”
“Of course I do.” Bruce tells me. “Back-to-back whips!”
I freeze, having no idea what the man just said to me. “What?” I finally ask.
“Two whips.” Bruce repeats.
I’m completely dumbfounded. What does this have to do with the building’s gate code?
“Derek?” Bruce asks, a sudden stab of skepticism in his throat. “This is Derek isn’t it?”
“I… Um.” I stammer, my voice cracking slightly as I lose my concentration.
A taxi pulls up behind me and honks twice, causing me to throw up my hand in recognition that my ride has arrived.
“Who the fuck is this?” Bruce demands to know.
“I’m sorry, I think I’m actually gonna be fine tonight.” I tell Bruce. “Don’t worry about coming by.”
I hang up the phone and then run over to the cab and climb into the backseat, “472 Main street!” I tell him.
The cab peels out into the warm Los Angeles night, heading for downtown as my mind races in the backseat. I’m terrified by my actions, yet somehow impressed by my own devious resourcefulness. Still, there’s one kink in my plan that I’ve got no idea how to work out.
“Can I ask you a question?” I finally say to the driver, an overweight man with dark features and a smug smile. “Do you know what a whip is?”
The cab driver laughs. “A whip? Of course I know what a whip
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