Unlike my lover, I've always known what I was--cool, hip, sexy--and gay. I've known that since I was fourteen. Granted, it took some time to convince others of these facts, but I'm nothing if not
persistant. I couldn't do the job I do otherwise.

I always wanted to travel. I'd never thought, though, that it would be mainly on foot (or occasionally in the back of a moving van). Some people have snickered about my chosen career, sneering behind my back that if I was -really- important I'd have a parking spot with my name on it, a corner office, and a secretary with big tits. I prefer environmentally friendly transportation, I love the outdoors, and I -damn- sure don't want the busty secretary. No, I have everything I want--EVERYTHING--now.

It wasn't always like that. I was lonely. I can hear you. You say, "Dude, how could you possibly be lonely? You're -constantly- talking to someone." And I would say, "Yes, but for someone whose game is communication, there's very little of it." You can't get much human contact when you're limited to, "Can you hear me now? Good!" Christ. Do you know how hard it is to work a little variation into that damn final syllable?

It was killing me. Oh, sure, I smiled, I flashed the V, I chirped out those same damn six words day in, day out--and I was dying inside. I passed through crowds, big and small, and seconds after I'd gone, I was forgotten. No one really -saw- me... until -him-.

I can remember the first time I saw him with remarkable clarity. I was doing a test run through a hospital, and I paused outside a private room. I glanced inside, and -he- was there, sitting on the side of the bed, staring back at me. I continued speaking, but my heart was suddenly thundering in my chest. But there was a young man in that bed, a beautiful, wounded young man. How could I compete with that? One smouldering look, and I went on my way. I went on my way quickly, because it turns out that you're not supposed to use wireless phones in a hospital--something about interferring with electronic equipment. The test run became a dead run, but I managed to give security the slip, though my last few check-ins were a little breathless.

That night I made my last call and retired to my rented hotel room. I stripped off my chic black clothes and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and -he- came strolling across my mind. The neat, old-fashioned haircut. The anonymous suit. The handsome, bland face. His soothing, almost droning voice as he spoke to the young man... Almost like a sexy cross between Ward Cleaver and Jack Webb. Why not for me, I thought?

I didn't expect to see him again. Like I said before--I travel. But there he was again, and again. Each time our paths crossed, he watched me, and I felt a thrill. I could feel the heat between us. It was like a static electricity charge building up, and I knew that if we ever dared touch, it would be *zzzzzzzap!* But I quickly saw the barrier between us. He was Sprint--I am Verizon. The antagonism and competition between the two companies is roughly equivalent to that between what went on with the Axis and the Allies in WWII. I despaired. How could I ask him to risk his career? And more importantly, what would I do if I approached him, and he turned me down?

Then a wonder happened. -He- spoke to me. I don't remember exactly what was said. My pulse was hammering so hard that it was like trying to listen on one of those bad connections that he's always trying to clear up. But our hearts spoke to each other. It hasn't been easy. Our times together are too short. I was so shocked when I realized that he felt insecure in what we had, and I did all that I could to reassure him. I didn't realize that -I- needed reassurance till tonight.

We were making love, our bodies blending together perfectly, our understanding absolute--I thought. As he brought me to climax, I gasped out, "You complete me!"

He smiled down at me tenderly, stroking my sweaty hair back from my brow, and said softly, "That's why I'm here."

The End