Seduced by a Busy Signal

I never could get Bea alone. It was that damned phone. We'd be sitting there in her apartment—she refused to trust herself to mine—and I'd put my arm around her and she'd put her head on my shoulder and I'd put my other hand on her knee and get ready to sin and then the phone would go off. Ten minutes later I'd get hold of her again and have a whole five minutes before the instrument rang off the round prematurely—again.

I had to put that phone out of commission if I was ever to put Bea into commission.

I called her. "Make yourself pretty," I said. "I'm on my way."

"Sure, Joe," she said. "Is that all you called about?"

No it wasn't, but I didn't tell her that. After she hung up, I didn't. I set my receiver on the table, turned up the FM, and left the music playing into the line.

Bea was beautiful, and I was amorous. But first I lifted her receiver, heard my music coming over, knew that all was well, and hung up again.

Maybe she had counted on the phone to chaperon her, as it always had before. She listened for it as I lifted her skirt and she cupped her ear as I unbuttoned her blouse, but it never rang. The only connection that evening was the one I made, and it was positively sinful!

You can get around any hurdle if you put your mind to it, be it mechanical or distaff.

Dear Jon,

I'm afraid we're simply not making connection. He enjoys his sin, while our readers insist upon remorse and agony. I don't understand how he put her phone out of commission, and in any event this is technical rather than emotional, which wasn't the kind of hurdle I had in mind. Perhaps one of the "Male" magazines would be interested; they seem to think sex is fun.

Thank you for thinking of us,

#3

PS—I wonder if that could be the reason my phone...?

Editor, FIST:

Story enclosed.

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