Was That An Orgasm Or Do You Just Have A Weak Heart

I was seventeen, fresh out of school and still relatively innocent. He was a British photographer, too old to date jailbait, but too reckless to care. It was late and we were on the phone together, watching TV.

Star 80 was airing. If you're unfamiliar, it's about a Playboy centerfold who was killed by her estranged husband. As the film told her life story, we watched her as a young woman, about my age. Her future husband was taking the pictures which would start her career as a nude model. It was a titillating scene as the actress smiled, blushes, and began to strip.

My boyfriend and I lay in our respective beds, watching with nearly silent phones pressed to our ears. The parallel between the film couple and ourselves seemed evident, and I couldn't help but imagine myself being seduced into baring my young body for his camera. No doubt, he was thinking the same.

His voice was soft and husky when he spoke. "Are you randy?"

I blinked. "Um... no, I'm Dani." We'd been dating for three weeks! How could he not know my name?

"No, no, no. I know your name. I mean... Well, are you.. excited?"

"Excited?" I repeated dumbly.

"The movie," he explained, clearly reconsidering the likelihood of my seduction, "is the movie making you feel sexy."

There was the faint sound of a penny dropping.

"Ooooooh, I get it. You want to know if I'm horny!"

"Horny? What an awful word for it! Horny. What kind of word is that to describe it?"

"Don't ask me, I didn't make it up. But at least you can see where it might have come from. Who was Randy and why the hell did he get a state of being named after him?"

"Oh, never mind."

We fell back into silence as the movie continued. Sometime before the distinctly un-sexy murder/suicide ending, things turned steamy again. And again, my boyfriend tried to initiate a pointed conversation.

"So, what do you think of the movie so far?"

"Well, it's not exactly Casablanca, but it's ok,"

"Perhaps not, but Casablanca didn't have sex scenes."

"No, a great kiss though."

"So do you like them?"

"Who?"

"The sex scenes."
"Oh."

"Aren't they getting to you at all?"

As dense as I'd been to this point, I understood by his tone that there were distinctly right and wrong answers to this question. I answered weakly, but correctly.

"I suppose."

"What are you going to do about it?"

TA-DAH!!! Danielle, welcome to your first phone sex call!

The next twenty minutes were spent with me talking as little as possible, not knowing what to say. I listened, not quite believing my dignified, mature boyfriend was actually doing all the things he described in such explicit detail. But as his breath became harder and his creaky bedsprings became audible, I began to believe. I listened in a fascinated state of arousal and discomfort.

Suddenly, and seemingly without warning, there was a loud, sharp gasp. Then a snort and grunt followed by a sort of squeak and another snort. At last, there was complete and frightening stillness.

I waited a few seconds, desperate to hear breathing.

Nothing.

'Oh my G-d,' I thought, 'he's had a heart attack!' My mind raced with panic. 'I have to call the police! I have to call an ambulance! Oh shit, I DON'T KNOW HIS ADDRESS!'

I quickly formulated a plan. I would have to put the phone down without hanging it up and race to the nearest pay phone. If I called the police, they could trace the call to his address.

My eyes widened as I pictured the police breaking down his door hours later only to find him in his bedroom, dead and already stiffening, one hand on the phone, the other on his penis.

I held the phone tight to my ear, gaping in horror. My mother was gonna know what I'd been talking about!

I looked at the phone’s cradle, weighing my options. If I hung up, there was always the possibility his roommate would get home in time to revive him.

'Oh, G-d' I thought, 'I'm going to Hell.' I'm Jewish, we don't even believe in Hell, but I was willing to bet I was on my way anyway.

Finally, after seemingly endless seconds wavering between humiliation and damnation, my redemption came in the form of a weak and happy voice floating up from the receiver.

"Dan? Did you cum?”