It had been a few days since Ruby’s and my little escapades.

She had helped me release some of that sexual tension that had been building up inside me.

But I had to admit, Mr. Jones was still getting to me.

Don’t be fooled, I knew full well that Jones was not his name. I recognised his voice immediately. He had always been on my voice top ten, even though I never would have guessed the difference it made speaking to him directly, even if it was via phone. He was a so-called, A-list celebrity who had recently made the headlines with a dirty divorce in which his, soon to be, ex-wife was flinging shit like a monkey at the zoo. He had tried to disappear from the limelight for a while, but the first two hotels he went to had sold stories to the tabloids within minutes. That wouldn’t happen here. So, I guessed he was here to stay at least till the press lost interest. 

So far, he had called my desk every day, usually with minor requests. There seemed to be an issue with prescriptions he needed to be filled discretely. And he requested some errands be run on his behalf.

Pretty basic stuff. 

I liked hearing his voice, though.

Not only that, but I liked hearing his voice so much, that I must admit I fantasised about it.

Of course, I kept my distance, and I knew better than to act on some fantasies at work. Especially with a, still married, guest who was headline news nearly every day.

But it was tempting.

I feel I should explain myself more.

The little vision I still have left is not enough to develop an attraction to looks alone. I do have a type, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

I remember the crushes I had in my early teens were the dark, broody types. Hell, I had a major crush on Professor Snape. But then, Alan Rickman had another one of those -read the phone book to me- voices.

With the women, I always went for the gingers. Gingers, with nice voices.

Even then, as mentioned before, voices were a major part of the attraction.

Nowadays the voice is the only attraction.  I just don’t bother with looks anymore. Given the right circumstances, I can discern different hair colours and skin tones. But I would have to be very bright, and I’d have to get really. And it’s difficult to explain what I’m doing there. 

Truth is, my imagination will turn you into what I desire, regardless of reality.

It’s one of the perks of my condition.

Mr Jones was exceptionally polite and friendly compared to some of our other guests. After his third call, he started greeting me personally and inquiring about my well-being and how my day was going.

At first, I was startled by his friendliness, and by the frequency of his calls. But I soon realised that he might be lonely.

Moreover, I found that the sound of his voice alone aroused me tremendously.

The more we talked the more the urge grew to slide a hand inside my slacks and tend to my desires.

Having a little tête-à-tête with Ruby in the middle of the night was nice. But it also was something that shouldn’t happen too often. Having a fling with a guest was an absolute no-go! Especially in the current situation where the tabloids had him under the microscope.

Being in such a constant state of arousal was something I hadn’t experienced before. It was a bit irritating but also quite nice, once I was home and could give in to my desires. It had been on the third day of his stay that I noticed how much the sound of his voice, and his speech pattern really aroused me. He had called quite late and for the first time addressed me by name.

“Good evening, Miss O’Riordan. I hope I’m not calling too late?”

“Hello Mr Jones, of course not, what can I do for you?”

His saying my name was like he had flicked a switch. I calmly listened to his requests, made a list, and promised to get back to him tomorrow.

When I ended my shift that night and got up from my chair, I noticed my knickers being a bit sticky. I switched off my appliances, took my coat and bag from its hook and unfolded my cane. I knew my way around the hotel, so I just kept it in front of me to detect obstacles whilst trailing the walls with my free hand. Outside the building, I had to rely more heavily on it.

The bus stop was close to the back entrance and most of the bus drivers knew me and usually called out the number of the bus to me.

Sitting down on the bus I folded my cane and rested it on my lap.

It was too dark to see my surroundings, except for the bright lights outside the window.

A blurry mix of headlights, traffic lights and blinking advertisements. I closed my eyes and listened around me. Besides the traffic and motor sounds it was silent. If there were any passengers close, they were reticent.

Again, Mr Jones came to my mind. His voice filled my head. I noticed how I clenched my thighs, shivering.  My fingers closed tighter around my cane. I turned it upright and slowly pushed it between my legs as if to just rest it there. Slowly I pulled it towards my crack, straddling it.

Luckily my bus ride home isn't long. Hurriedly I made it inside my building and rushed towards the elevator.

Once inside my flat, I moaned. I was soaking wet, my labia swollen and throbbing.

My imagination running amuck.

I had to hold it in at least long enough to put away my things, or I would spend hours looking for them later.

Once in my bedroom, I shed out of my clothes. My scent enveloped me.  In my head, I heard Mr. Jones's voice, telling me all the things I needed to hear now. How sexy I was, how beautiful. That I turned him on, and he couldn’t wait to push his rock-hard member inside me.

Still standing next to the bed my hand dropped between my legs and I started rubbing my clit. Rocking against my hand I somehow made it onto the bed and pretended it was his hand that was fucking me. That knew so well what I liked.

I spread my lips and started massaging my clit. From time to time pushing two fingers inside me to keep them well lubed. The orgasm came quickly not as fierce as the ones Ruby had given me a few days ago, I felt, I still needed more.

Still very aroused my hand found my nightstand and the drawer where I keep my little helpers.

I found my anal vibrator, a similar one to the one Ruby had used, and switched it on.

Massaging my clit with it and carefully pushing it inside my pussy I coated it in my juices, enjoying the vibrations and clenching my sphincter in anticipation.

I turned and carefully pushed it inside my anus, groaning and rubbing myself against the sheets. I closed my eyes and listened to the voice in my head talking dirty to me.

Fingering myself I started rocking back and forth and imagining Mr. Jones's cock deep inside my ass. I came hard this time. Hard and loud.

I collapsed on my sheets my hand still between my legs. The only sound in the room was the faint humming coming from my butt.

It slowly dawned on me, that talking to him tomorrow might get embarrassing.