Brazen Virtue

facts.”
    “It’s fact enough that my sister is moonlighting as a call girl, if an amazingly resilient one.”
    “That’s exactly it. A call girl. I’m selling my voice, Grace, not my body.”
    “A couple of glasses of wine and my brain fogs right up. Why don’t you spell it out for me, Kathleen?”

    “I work for Fantasy, Incorporated. It’s a small storefront operation that specializes in phone services.”
    “Phone services?” she repeated as she blew out smoke. “Phone services?” This time both eyebrows rose. “Are you talking about phone sex?”
    “Talking about sex is the closest I’ve come in a year.”
    “A year?” Grace had to swallow that first. “I’d offer my sympathies, but at the moment I’m too fascinated. You mean you’re doing what they advertise in the back of men’s magazines?”
    “Since when did you start reading men’s magazines?”
    “Research. And you’re saying you make almost a thousand a week talking to men over the phone?”
    “I’ve always had a good voice.”
    “Yeah.” Grace sat back to take it in. In all of her life she couldn’t remember Kathleen doing one single unconventional thing. She’d even waited until marriage to sleep with Jonathan. Grace knew because she’d asked. Both of them. Then it struck her not only how out of character it was but how funny. “Sister Mary Francis said you had the best speaking voice in the eighth grade. I wonder what the poor old dear would say if she knew her best student was a phone whore.”
    “I’m not particularly fond of that term, Grace.”
    “Oh come on, it has a nice ring.” She chuckled into her wine. “Sorry. Well, tell me how it works.”
    She should have known Grace would see the lighter side of it. With Grace you rarely got recriminations. The muscles in Kathleen’s shoulders unknotted as she drank again. “The men call Fantasy’s office, if they’re repeaters they might ask for a specific woman. If they’re new, they’re asked to list their preferences so they can be set up with someone suitable.”
    “What sort of preferences?”

    Kathleen knew Grace had a tendency to interview. Three glasses of wine kept her from being annoyed. “Some men like to do most of the talking, about what they’d do to the woman, what they’re doing to themselves. Others like the woman to talk, just sort of walk them through, you know. They want her to describe herself, what she’s wearing, the room. Some of them want to talk about S and M or bondage. I don’t take those calls.”
    Grace struggled to take it all seriously. “You only talk straight sex.”
    For the first time in months, Kathleen felt pleasantly relaxed. “That’s right. And I’m good at it. I’m very popular.”
    “Congratulations.”
    “Anyway, the men call, they leave their phone number and the number of a major credit card. The office makes sure the card’s good, then contacts one of us. If I agree to take the call, I phone the man back on the telephone Fantasy had installed here, but that’s billed directly to the office address.”
    “Of course. And then?”
    “Then we talk.”
    “Then you talk,” Grace murmured. “That’s why you have the extra phone in your office.”
    “You always notice the little things.” Kathleen realized, with no small satisfaction, that she was well on her way to getting drunk. It felt good to have a buzz in her head, the weight off her shoulders, and her sister across the table.
    “Kath, what’s to keep these guys from finding out your name and address? One of them might decide he doesn’t just want to talk anymore.”
    She shook her head as she carefully wiped the slight ring from the glass off the table. “Fantasy’s employees’ files are strictly confidential. The callers are never, under any circumstances, given our number. Most of us use false names too. I’m Desiree.”
    “Desiree,” Grace repeated with some respect.

    “I’m five-two, blond, and have a body that won’t quit.”
    “No shit?” Though she held her liquor better, Grace had eaten nothing that day but a Milky Way on the way to the airport. The idea of Kathleen having an alter ego not only seemed plausible but logical. “Congratulations again. But, Kath, say one of the people at Fantasy decided he wanted closer employer/employee relations?”
    “You’re writing a book again,” Kathleen said dismissively.
    “Maybe, but—”
    “Grace, it’s perfectly safe. This is a simple business arrangement. All I do is