HELLO DADDY! (Part I)

-"Hello, daddy.…what a surprise, huh…!? Surely you're wondering who I am... It doesn't matter, baby. The only thing you have to keep in mind is that when i catch you I'm going to leave you dry... You won't be able to believe how I'm going to hit you, little one; I get all wet just talking to you…ahhh….Well, I have to cut it off. But get ready for the best bed-in of your life, sweetheart… Bye, see you soon”
After hearing this, modulated by the most sensual female voice imaginable, Gregorio remained absorbed, rigid, with the telephone tube clutched in his left hand until 25 seconds after his interlocutor cut off the communication. She snapped him out of his mute stupor by the booming voice of his section chief.
"-You, to work! I've already told you a thousand times that you can't make or receive private calls here!-”His superior bellowed, on behalf of the import and export company where Gregorio had worked for more than two decades. Already 50 years old, he was still too single for his liking, by profession, an administrative clerk, chronic, asthmatic, very myopic, eternally overweight, owner of bad taste and bad breath to any test, quite bald and decidedly ugly.
Of course, the rest of the day was not the same as usual for him. While he handled bills and remittances in the sordid office where he was crowded together with nine other unfortunates, Gregorio racked his brains thinking about the call he had just received. Because never in his life had a woman spoken to him like that; she wasn't even the cheapest and most needy of those pathetic prostitutes that he used to frequent no more than four or five times a year, for lack of anything else.
When it was 20:XNUMX p.m. that day, everyone was the same except for the strange call, Gregorio mechanically said goodbye to his companions and went out into the street. Before setting foot on the sidewalk, he looked in all directions. As usual. The things and faces of every afternoon. Nothing special, although somehow, for Gregorio it was all different. As he headed to his apartment, he mentally reviewed each of the words that voice dripping with sex had thrown at him, without giving him the slightest chance of an answer. His proverbial lack of imagination prevented him from considering the possibility that the mysterious call was a joke concocted by one of his very few friends, so that he couldn't get out of his surprise.
Thus, turning his head in all directions, he crossed the twelve streets that separated his place of work from the insignificant apartment, with two rooms (more like one and a half) where he lived, his only possession of any importance after 30 years of work.

After a monosyllabic greeting to the doorman of the building, he crossed the entrance and entered the elevator. He reached the fifth floor, and before he was completely out of the elevator he leaned out, carefully observing that there was no one in the peeling corridor. There wasn't, by the way. With a ridiculous little jump he left the elevator, closing the door with the greatest care, as if fearing that the horny woman on the phone would discover him.
He approached his apartment trying to perceive even the smallest detail of everything around him. There was nothing strange: the same smell of rancid food, the same damp stains on the walls, the usual dirty tiles and that air of abandonment typical of an old and poor building full of people who last instead of living.
He got to his door, put the key in and turned it very slowly. After what seemed like an eternity of time, she was encouraged to enter. Nothing strange, as she saw when she turned on the light in the living-dining room attached to the tiny kitchen that was the most presentable part of the apartment. With a sigh of relief, she took off her threadbare tie, undone her collar, and tossed away the timeless jacket of indefinite color, which might have been navy blue long ago. After collapsing into a small armchair, she understood that she couldn't stop thinking about that call, and especially she couldn't stop hearing that voice worthy of the most catty late-night radio announcer in her head.
Minutes passed, and slowly he calmed down thinking that it was a mistake. That no one ever spoke to him like that, and no one ever would. A grievous mistake by some fiery mistress, and no more than that. But the sound of the phone pulled him out of his thoughts. Again, flustered, he picked up the phone and answered with an almost inaudible "Hello", only to immediately hear the same lustful voice that had flustered him in the office:
“Papirrín… thank goodness I found you. I wanted to tell you again that I burn with desire for you. I swear that when we finally meet, you won't be able to believe everything I'm going to do to you in bed, my colt. I'm going to suck you from top to bottom, I'm going to leave you breathless, you're going to see what a wild woman in heat is, my love. Luckily, it's not long now, because I can't wait to have you between my legs, macho." End of communication, and Gregorio's renewed stupor, who with a trembling hand removed the tube from his ear and hung it awkwardly. He couldn't even bring himself to ask himself any questions; with this second call, the chances of error were reduced almost to the point of disappearance.
It was more than an hour before she was able to stop repeating those disturbing words in her mind, was able to get up and walk to the kitchen, to reheat the pasty leftover stew from the night before. That, and a minimal sandwich of questionable content at noon (plus some morning coffees) was all she would have to eat that day. The menu was not very different from that of hundreds of other days of her poor life, but today everything seemed very different. She swallowed that down quickly, washing it down with a couple of glasses of cheap wine, and after dumping the dishes into the sink she headed for the tiny bathroom. After the hygienic routines of the case, she took off the few clothes that were left on her and lay down on the bed.

(TO BE CONTINUE…)