Unless it Happens to be Her

Hello again, gentle readers! This story is my entry for the 2022 Literotica Valentine's Day Contest. It's also my first foray into this category, so you'll have to tell me how I did. This is a slow, romantic burn and I hope it comes off as a good mix of sweet and spicy. As always, all comments—whether posted here or sent via e-mail—are welcome. Thanks to my special friends who gave it a look-through (you know who you are!). Any remaining errors are a result of me tinkering with it after their edits. Thanks for reading!

#

Brittney sighed and pressed the button on the side of her phone, and the screen went blank. She stared at it for a long moment, hoping that fate might offer her a reprieve, that John would have a sudden change of heart and call back or text.

But the screen stayed dark. After forty-five seconds, she put it back in her pocket. Her eyes flicked to the digital wall-mounted clock.

One-twenty-two. Eight more minutes of lunch break.

She stifled a yawn and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee from the heavy machine labeled, "Sumatran Blend." She sprinkled some artificial sweetener into the twenty-two-ounce metal travel thermos and turned to the fridge. Containers of half-and-half and heavy whipping cream lined the refrigerator racks, eliciting a faint smile from Brittney as she grabbed the nearest open container of half-and-half and topped off her drink. Not having to fight many employees for the office's excellent coffee was one of the perks of working the graveyard shift.

She wandered through the cubicle maze to her desk. Only a smattering of desks were occupied at this hour. Most of the workers conversed in low tones with their customers, though a handful sat idle, waiting for a call to come in and be routed to their terminals. Her desk was in the middle of the floor but was also separated from other desks by at least two workstations in every direction, which meant that she was left alone while working ... which was how she liked it.

Another yawn. Mondays are always so slow ... though I guess technically we're into Tuesday now. The sudden memory of talking to John in between calls during their slow times made her sigh again.

She flopped in the seat at her terminal, placed her thermos on her desk, and ran her hands across her smooth dark brown hair, which she'd tied back in a ponytail before coming to work. One thing Brittney had always appreciated about working at the call center was the lax dress code; she was able to wear jeans and a tee-shirt and didn't have to worry about fancy hair arrangements. Triple Spark Communications' only guidance on customer agent dress was, "clean and presentable." It had saved her a ton of money on clothing.

Brittney yawned one last time, noting that the clocks on the walls of the call center main room, which were synchronized to the one in the break room, now read 1:58. Unless she went into the system and extended her break time, she would be back in the agent queue in two minutes. For a moment, she was tempted to do just that, log out for another half hour, and put her head down for a nap ... but taking more than her approved half-hour would draw fire from her supervisor. It would also be unpaid time, which would defeat the point of working getting time-and-a-half for working the night shift.

She pursed her lips. Given what had happened, all the extra money she was making and saving now seemed pointless. Brittney plucked the headset from the desk and settled it on her ears, adjusted the microphone near her mouth, took her system off break, and waited.

The second the clock rolled over to two, the large square gray button labeled CALL turned green as the screen lit with an incoming call. Based on the information associated with the incoming phone number, she noted the company of the account, the name on the account, and the local time of the caller, which was the same time zone as her own. She clicked the flashing icon on her screen and began her litany. "Good morning and thank you for calling AT&T tech support. My name is Brittney. Before we get started, can we please verify some security information ..."

A stream of calls kept her busy. When Brittney finally had a lull, she glanced at the clock and was surprised to see it read a quarter to six. The steady flow of incoming business meant the hours had ticked off the clock without her paying much attention, and also that her shift was almost over. As soon as the clock hit six AM, she could take herself out of the queue and spend the last five minutes of her shift closing down her administrative tools.

Staying busy had also kept her from thinking about John too much. She recalled the times both she and he had rolled back their chairs from their desks, trailing the cords of their headsets, to pop their faces around the cubicle walls and steal a quick kiss. And then there was that time they'd spent their lunch break in the back bathroom—

Brittney gave her head a slight shake. Pleasant as those memories were, that's all they were. All I have left of him, she thought.

She half-stood and peered over her cubicle walls. The morning shift had indeed already begun arriving, clocking in and setting up at their terminals. They had to be ready to take calls by six. She stretched her arms over her head. Oh man. Bed is gonna feel gooooood.

She sensed someone at her elbow and turned. "Jim. Good morning."

"Same to you."

Jim Kendrick had been her shift supervisor for the year she'd been on the third shift at Three Spark Communications. Tall and spindly, with a receding hairline, thick glasses, beak-like nose, and unsmiling mouth, he was the prototypical image of a humorless office manager. In spite of that, Brittney had found him to be fair and even-handed as a supervisor, if devoid of personality.

Brittney's eyes flicked to the woman standing at his side. She was about the same height as Brittney's five-foot-six-inches, which meant they were on eye level with each other. The woman had creamy skin and a cascade of curly auburn hair that fell past her shoulders. Brittney guessed they were about the same age. The new arrival wore a form-fitting blouse and slacks that highlighted her ample curves. Bright blue eyes peered at her and on their gazes meeting, the woman's face broke into a broad white-toothed smile that was equal parts sensual and friendly.

Wow, she's quite the looker.

Jim gestured. "This is Calliope Beatty. She's joining the night crew to replace John Raster." Brittney frowned at the mention of John's name but Jim plowed on, either oblivious or uncaring. "She finished her preliminary training class on Friday. Tonight will be her first floor shift. I'm assigning you as her floor trainer for the remainder of the week."

Brittney smiled at the woman but inside her head, a mental scream shattered her sense of peace.

Goddamn it, I hate training new people. And right now ... She wanted to object, citing her personal issues at the moment, but aside from a death in the family or losing a limb, Jim was impervious to such complaints. And, she grudgingly admitted to herself, Jim is fair about making us take turns. I haven't had a trainee in a while, so I am probably due.

Reservations aside, she forced a smile onto her face and extended her hand. "Hi. I'm Brittney Garcia."

"Hi. You can call me Cal." Her voice was husky and laden with bedroom tones. Cal took Brittney's hand. Her grip was firm and confident.

"Okay, 'Cal' it is. Well, welcome to Three Spark Telecom."

Cal cocked her head and gazed at her for a few seconds.

A sudden tingle of nervousness invaded Brittney's mind, though she wasn't sure why. Her tingling skin suddenly felt warm. She withdrew her hand and Cal released her.

"Calliope," Jim said in his monotone voice, "Brittney is an excellent agent and trainer. You'll need to clock in by a quarter to ten this evening and meet her here at her desk."

"I can do that."

"Good. In the meantime, let's go finish filling out the rest of the HR paperwork for you." He headed towards his office without so much as a backward glance.

Cal offered Brittney a small smile. "I guess I'll see you tonight."

"Yeah."

She breezed past Brittney and followed Jim. Brittney watched her walk away. Just as she was about to leave the cubicle farm, Cal glanced back, caught Brittney watching her, and smiled again. Then Cal rounded a corner and vanished from sight.

#

Daphne Garcia lowered her coffee mug. "So ... John's gone now, right?"

Brittney sighed. Her mom always insisted that when she came home from work, they sit together in the morning and talk for a little while before Brittney went to rest. Most of the time, she didn't mind.

She glanced at Daphne, whose hazel eyes gazed at her intently. Even though her dad's Hispanic heritage meant that Brittney's hair and skin were darker than her mother's blonde hair and pale skin, there was no mistaking the similarity in the build of their cheekbones and shape of their chins. Folks had commented that Brittney looked more like her mom than any of her three older siblings did. she loved her mother and normally adored spending time between just the two of them.

That morning, though ...

At the moment, I really want nothing more than to run through the shower, crawl in bed, and fucking forget about John. She snorted. As if it's just that easy.

Seeing that her mother was not going to be put off, she said, "Yeah. If he stayed on the last schedule I heard, he left for Dallas yesterday. I don't know, since we've had no contact since I picked up the remainder of my stuff from his place last week."

"Did he go alone?"

"I doubt it. I'm sure she went too." Brittney knew she didn't have to explain to her mother to whom "she" referred. The name had been thrown out in enough weeping conversations the week before.

"I guess it's a good thing you never got pregnant."

"Oh for crying out loud, that's all I need. But it's been three months since we had sex, so I figure I'm safe." Brittney's honesty with her mother over her sex life would have shocked some but she had always been close enough to her mom to talk about anything—and it was times like that this, when the stress of life pressed in, that she treasured their close connection.

Daphne released her coffee and placed her hand on top of Brittney's. "I'm sorry, hon."

She shrugged. "I guess it wasn't meant to be."

"Well, look at the bright side: you have a pretty good nest egg built up now. All that money you were going to sink into a house is yours." She gave Brittney a last squeeze before returning her hand to the mug. "Does that mean you're going to quit at the library now?"

"I don't know." Brittney thought about her part-time gig, working Fridays and Saturdays at the local branch of the library there in Tempe. Every cent had gone into what she and John had called the "future fund," which was their term for the savings they wanted to put toward a house together. "I really like working there. If I could get on full-time, I'd consider giving up Three Spark. Besides, what am I gonna do now, other than work? It's not like men are beating down my door."

"You won't know if that's true until you get yourself out there."

Brittney kept her mouth shut. She was not about to be drawn into that discussion again.

After a moment of silence, her mom said, "Well, whatever you decide to do, your Dad and I are here for you. You know that, right?"

"I know Mom. Thank you." She stood. "I think for the moment, I'm just going to clean up and get to bed. I have a new trainee starting tonight."

Daphne smiled. "Is he cute?"

"She is rather attractive, yes, and you should watch those gender assumptions."

Her mom didn't look chastised in the least. "Ah. Maybe next time."

She entered her room and closed the door, her nose wrinkling at the clutter. I need to pick up this place. I know it's driving Mom and her OCD insane but she's never said anything. It's the least I could do since they're letting me live here rent-free. Brittney grimaced. Monica, Paul, and Chris were all gone right after college, out on their own and starting their lives and families. Me? The single dropout, still living with my parents at twenty-five. Blarg.

Thoughts of her relationship status wrenched her stomach. Brittney grabbed her robe and headed for the bathroom. A few moments later found her standing under the showerhead. Working in a climate-controlled office meant she didn't get that dirty—except that week the air conditioning went out—but like any job, she built up a certain amount of mental grime every day. The hot water blasting across her skin scoured the fatigue and stress from her body and with every passing moment, she felt a little better.

Her hands scrubbed her skin clean. One hand slipped across her mound and between her legs and she hesitated as a twinge radiated out from her nether region.

Maybe ... maybe that would help me sleep.

Brittney thought about it only for a second before she pushed between the folds of her sex and found the stub of her clit. At her touch, her abdomen quivered and pulsed. She began slow, soapy strokes between her lips, gliding her slick fingers across her nub of pleasure, down to tease the entrance of her pussy with soft circular motions, and back up again.

She placed her forehead against the shower wall and closed her eyes. Brittney thought about the stash of porn on her phone and recalled one video with a handsome blond-haired muscular guy railing an olive-skinned woman who looked a lot like Brittney herself, though with a surgically-enhanced chest. She let the movie of the fantasy play in her head while enjoying the gently building sensation.

The contractions in her abdomen increased. Her breathing picked up speed. Mortified that she might be heard, Brittney jammed her washcloth across her mouth to stifle her moan. Her hips began to tremble and her fingers moved faster.

Just as her orgasm hit the tipping point, the woman in her mind changed. Gone was the dark-haired Hispanic woman. In her place lay a woman with milky skin, a wealth of reddish-brown curls, and bright blue eyes, which seemed to stare at her with wicked delight as the man's thick cock plunged in and out of her.

What the—

Before she could complete the thought, her pussy spasmed and her orgasm struck. Brittney froze and groaned into the washcloth as sweet release poured through her in a series of delicious-but-gentle waves. Ten seconds later, her breathing resumed and she dropped the washcloth.

Wow, that was strong. But why did I see Cal?

she turned off the shower, dried off, donned her robe, and hurried to bed. Before she could make any sense of it, fatigue of the night and relaxation of coming overcame her and Brittney fell into a dreamless sleep.

#

She'd barely gotten her butt in the chair when Brittney heard a voice beside her say, "Good evening."

She glanced up at Cal and smiled, trying not to think about the woman intruding in her fantasy earlier that morning. Eight hours of sleep had helped, making the memory feel a little more distant and she'd finally decided it was just one of those weird tricks a tired mind might play on someone. "Hi there. I hope you got some rest. The first night shift is usually the hardest one until your body gets used to it."

"Yeah, Jim told me the same thing. I got about six hours of sleep." Cal pulled up an office chair and sat next to her, placing her metal travel mug on the desk, which was similar to Brittney's. She noted Cal wore a loose blouse that fell off one shoulder, yoga pants, and running shoes. Cal smiled. "All right, let's get started. What do I need to know that they didn't teach us in training?"

As Brittney set up her administration tools, she touched on a handful of basic topics and procedures, most of which Cal already seemed to be aware of. As far as Brittney was concerned, that already put Cal in the top quarter of new agents. Far too many of them barely paid attention in the classroom and had to be handheld through the most simple steps in their floor training.

She described how Three Spark Telecom's contracted tech support for several major phone, cable, and internet service providers—the last of which was their area of support—and started to outline the differences between the three. Before she could get far, Cal recited almost verbatim the differing procedures for AT&T, Cox Communications, and Frontier. Brittney blinked. "Yeah, you seem to have that down."

Cal smiled and nodded.

Brittney brought up a handful of their tools and was pleased to see Cal understood the essence of those as well. After ten minutes, she said, "I think you've got this. I'll put us in the call queue. We get a thirty-minute lunch break. I like to take mine around one since that's a slow time and I can have the break room to myself. Most of the night crew take theirs at two or three. We can punch off the queue for as much as five minutes an hour if we need a break after a bad call or have to run to the restroom or something but anything more than that ends up counting as unpaid time and if we log too much, Jim will give us a warning. After two warnings in a month, we get an 'evaluation,' which is manager-code for getting fired."

"Gotcha. One o'clock for lunch sounds fine."

Brittney checked her screen. "I guess we just wait for a call now. Here, take this headset." She handed the set to Cal. "There's no mic on that one but you can listen the whole time."

"Okay." She donned the headphones. "Is it normally this quiet? I kind of expected it to be non-stop calls."

"Monday through Wednesdays tend to be a little slower, but it comes and goes. I had almost nothing this morning before two, and then it was steady until when Jim walked up and introduced you." She grinned. "Friday night tends to be downright awful. Is that part of your schedule?"

"No, Jim told me I was on Sunday night to Thursday night, same as you."

"Those are the best days, to be honest."

Cal rubbed her arms. "Cold in here."

"Yeah, they crank up the air during the day. You know Phoenix in August—you can fry an egg on the sidewalk by nine AM, so the AC is running full power all day. Half the time, no one remembers to turn it off at night, so it gets down in the low sixties. I never thought I would say this to someone living in Phoenix but get yourself a hoodie."

Cal's husky laugh was sensual to Brittney's ears. Her bright blue eyes lingered on her coworker.

Brittney looked away. She wasn't sure why but Cal's intense scrutiny made her nervous. Not afraid but a little anxious. She said, "Are you from Phoenix?"

"I grew up in Scottsdale but went away to Colorado for school. I was working in the IT department of a big bank chain in Denver but when my Dad got really sick last year, I had to quit. I moved back to help Mom take care of him." She looked down. "He passed about six months ago."

Brittney touched her on the arm. "I'm sorry to hear that, Cal."

"Thank you. I stayed so Mom wouldn't be alone. She doesn't get out much since Dad passed. It's been hard but we helped each other a lot. Money started getting tight—medical bills wiped out my savings, and theirs. Mom can't work more than part-time, because she has some medical issues that cause her to get tired quickly. The old house was big and worth a lot, so she sold it and moved us down here to Tempe, to a smaller one." Cal smiled, a little sadly. "I think she just wanted a fresh start, to get away from memories of Dad and everything."

"Whereabouts down here?"

"Near Baseline and Guadaloupe."

Brittney smiled. "Cool, we're not too far from there either."