Jacob Louis Beaney


It had taken him hours to find one. He’d even started to think that they didn’t even exist any more. Extinct technology, gone the way of the fax machine and mini-disc. 

But now here he was standing before what was probably the last phone box in the city, a scrawled number in one hand and a pound coin in the other.

But now that he’d found one he was anxious of what he might find inside, or catch.

A part of him thought about walking away and forgetting the whole thing, but he he needed to call Julie, he needed to tell her that he was sorry, that he loved her and that he’d do anything to make it right.

Placing his hand in his jacket sleeve he opened the door and stepped inside. A stagnant wave of piss stung his nostrils and caused him to gag. He pushed the door back open, took a gulp of the relatively fresh air outside before diving back in, being certain to breath only through his mouth.

With his jacket sleeve still over his hand he lifted the receiver, unfolded the scrap of paper and inserted the pound coin into the slot. There was a series of loud clanks before his pound coin was promptly rejected into the change tray at the bottom. He tried it once more but was again greeted by his returned coin. He tried to place it in as gently as he could. It slid out. He put it back in, but this time with great force, but out it came once more.

He tried as many ways as he could think of putting a coin into a slot before he finally gave up and slammed down the receiver. He launched into a tirade of abuse against the machine, suggesting that its dwindling population was due to the fact that it was a cunt.

He put his back against the door and was about to leave when he noticed the crudely made adverts stuck to the back wall.

“Adult Massage”

“Live Cucumber Show” 

“Anal Angel. Dirty girl loves it up the arse”

“Fuck my wife!”

“Granny likes hot spunk in her old wet bucket. I’ll take any cock I can get!”

He suddenly found himself laughing and stepped forward to get a closer look at the filthy ads. Some made him laugh, others made him shudder and a few even made him feel physically sick.

What sort of a sad cunt would call these numbers!

  Then he came across one…

“Council Estate Dirt Bag Wants to Wank you Off, call Sue on: 07XXXXXXXX”

There was a picture attached of a middle aged blonde, not bad, looked a little like his Aunt Shirley. He’d always had a bit of a crush on his Aunt Shirley. Ever since her nipple had popped out of her bathing suit on their family trip to Málaga.

It was the first nipple he’d ever seen. 

He’d felt a strange stirring in his swimming trunks.

He stood staring at the picture for some time.

He slid in the pound coin, there was a click and the receiver suddenly came to life with an audible hum. With his jacket sleeve wrapped around his hand he typed in the number. There was a brief ring before the phone was answered.

“Hi sweetheart” a voice said on the other end.

“Is that Sue?”

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