Restricted Volume 1 (Restricted Series)

  Restricted

  By Pamela Ann and Ashley Suzanne

  BLURB

  Violet Collins isn’t your average college student. Between taking classes and mending a broken heart, she works as a phone sex operator. After being dumped by her long term boyfriend because of her sexual inexperience, Violet turns to the only thing to help her open her mind, while still giving her the anonymity she needs to protect her affluent family.

  When infamous bad boy, Levi Oliver, receives a business card from a friend, he wrestles with the decision to expand his knowledge and delve into a world he’s only fantasized about. With everything going according to plan in his life of success, the one thing missing is his sexual match.

  When a chance phone call puts the pair in contact, they’ll get more than they bargain for.

  RESTRICTED Volume One

  © Pamela Ann and Ashley Suzanne, 2014

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally.

  PROLOGUE

  “Vi, it’s not you, it’s me,” Mason said, taking my hands in his. Even though the words were so cliché, they still hit me with the weight of a hundred bricks.

  Mason Mackenzie was my perfect match from the moment I was born. Or at least that’s what my parents tried to drill in my head for the last twenty-two years. Mason’s parents, same as mine, were members of the “social circuit”, as me and my sister joked since we were teenagers. They weren’t famous like some socialites, but when it came to dinners, charity events and parties for any occasion, the Mackenzie’s and Collins’s were on every invite list.

  Naturally, when I was born, my mother, more than my father, decided that I was to marry a nice boy from the right family. Enter Mason Mackenzie. Aesthetically pleasing, but a complete bore, yet here he was breaking up with me.

  “And what exactly does that mean, Mason? I would think after five years of being together, I’d get more than that.” I yanked my hands out of his grip, wiping them down the sides of my jeans.

  “We’re not getting any younger, Vi, and there’s things I want and I can’t get from you. There’s nothing you did wrong. I just need … different.”

  “I’m starting to understand. Is this why you’ve been sneaking around with Sydney?” I asked, catching him off guard. I had known for quite some time that he’d been having a fling with Sydney, a girl I once called a friend. It’d had been all too apparent at parties when they would both excuse themselves around the same time to use the bathroom. I wasn’t a rocket scientist or anything, but it was amazingly convenient that their bladders worked in sync … every fucking event. There had been no doubt in my mind they were using the bathroom alright, just not in the traditional sense.

  I learned long ago, especially where my parents were concerned, it’s better to please them than try to do something different. Which was the only reason Mason and I lasted as long as we did. There was no love, no compassion and certainly no chemistry. It was a relationship purely for show. That was probably why I was so concerned about this break-up. What were my parents going to say? My mother was going to lose her damn mind and try to set me up on a blind date. Kill me now, please.

  “Sydney does things you don’t. I won’t disrespect you with the details, but she’s more my speed … sexually,” he explained, his face beet red and sweaty.

  “Well, thank you Mason for not disrespecting me with what you and Sydney do behind closed doors, yet not having an ounce of decency to not screw another woman. If that’s all, I’d like you to leave.” I walked to the door, opened it and refused to make eye contact with him as he slinked past me.

  I had always considered myself open sexually, so finding out I wasn’t was a slap in the face. I was poised, intelligent and spread my legs anytime he requested. Maybe it was the lack of passion in our relationship … maybe I just needed more myself, I didn’t know.

  Fuck it. Maybe he was right; it was him, not me.

  I was just fine.

  The next few nights I stayed in, licking my wounds and what not. Not that I was really upset about the break-up, it was more the worrying over what life lesson my mother would try to teach me.

  “You’ll have to work harder next time, Violet.”

  “You’re not getting any younger, Violet.”

  “Look at your sister getting married, Violet. Don’t you want that?”

  “Why do you do this to me, Violet?”

  Frankly, I considered not even going to my sister’s wedding to avoid the shit show I knew would happen. If it wasn’t for the incredible bond Rose and I had, I’d have an open ended ticket to nowhere sitting at the airport for me.

  On my last day of solitude, I finally bathed and ran to the corner market for some necessities; cans of cola, pizza rolls and a stack of those nothing you’ll read in here is real magazines.

  I made a vow to myself that morning, that would be my last lonesome night and I’d get back into the world tomorrow. I had no choice left. Tomorrow was my big sister’s wedding and she’d be lost without her Maid of Honor. Oh, Rose, you had better realize how much I love you.

  After a long, hot shower, I threw on some clean sweatpants and tank top, plopped down on the sofa and began flipping through my entertainment for the evening. Not only did I learn which celebrity was getting plastic surgery on a regular basis and who knew how to dress to impress, when I reached the back, where the classifieds were, the real discovery was achieved.

  Phone Sex Operator Wanted

  That ad, printed just below one for blue jean stretch pants for mothers of three and above sex toys to drive him wild. At first, I dismissed the Now Hiring advertisement, but for some strange reason, it stuck in my head. I kept going back and reading the criteria over again.

  Female, between the ages of 21-30 needed. Sexy voice is a requirement. There are no set hours. Work as little or as much as you want. Call for further details.

  Well, I had a sexy voice and was in the right demographic. Between law school and appeasing my mother, a job where I could work the hours I wanted sounded wonderful. The thing that had me picking up my phone, dialing the number, was the things that he, the name that shall not be mentioned, said to me.

  What better way to find out what men really wanted from women? They’d call and tell you their darkest fantasies because they were too chicken to tell their wives or girlfriends … if they had them. If I was inadequate in some way, I’d be able to figure out how to fix it and be the girl men expected me to be.

  Fabulous idea, Violet. Smirking to myself, I punched in each number with gusto, placed the receiver to my ear and waited for someone to pick up the other line.

  “Good afternoon, thank you for calling Restricted. How may I direct your call?” a sweet voice purred.

  “I’m looking for human resources, please.” I was placed on a brief hold before another, less sexy, voice picked up.

  “This is Regina, may I help you?”

  “Hello, Regina. My name is Violet and I’m responding to your classified ad regarding the …” I paused, unsure of what to say next. Do I blatantly call it a phone sex operator or something classier? Was there anything classier? Glo
rified Verbal Whore, maybe?

  “The operator position,” she completed my sentence, saving me from the mortification.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  The phone call lasted about twenty minutes, complete with me showing off my sexy voice. When Regina had all she needed, she informed me that someone would be in touch with me in the next few days.

  Resigning my short-lived dreams of being the woman all the men told their sexual fantasies to, I went about the rest of my last day of wallowing. And that’s exactly what I did.

  Wallowed.

  #

  Just before I was about to climb into bed for the evening to get my beauty rest, Rose called, begging me to go to the hotel where she was staying for the night. I changed my clothes, packed an overnight bag, because I knew where this was heading, and called my driver to take me directly to the Plaza Hotel.

  When I slid my key card—yes the hotel manager knew my family very well and handed over the slim card without me having to ask twice—and opened the door, my sweet big sister Rose was standing on the couch, throwing dollar bills at a very naked supposed police man.

  “Look, Vi. The girls did this. It was a surprise,” she screamed, shoving a single in the banana hammock of said stripper.

  Unbeknownst to me, the other bridesmaids threw her a secret bachelorette party and none were too happy to see me traipsing through the door. They had all known each other since grade school and I guess no matter how old I got, I’d always be the bratty little sister.

  Oh, well. There’s nakedness and champagne. Perfect way to end my seclusion from the world.

  Three bottles of Dom, more money than I cared to count and male stripper thongs as souvenirs, we all crashed out just after two in the morning. I crawled in the massive king sized bed with Rose and we talked about growing up and the happier memories we had. I suddenly realized this would be the last time we’d be able to do this. This time tomorrow night, my big sister, my best friend would be a married woman.

  #

  For those of you who thought I was a bear in the morning never had the pleasure of meeting Rose soon to be Calloway after a night of drinking and debauchery. Well, as dirty as an Upper East Side princess could get, anyway.

  “We’re going to be late. Hurry up!” Rose yelled, clapping her hands in front of all of our hung over faces. I tell ya, if it wasn’t her wedding day …

  With our hair pulled high on our heads, comfortable clothes and garment bags lying across our shoulders, the entire bridal party shuffled out the door and into the waiting limo. I immediately pulled my hood over my eyes, protecting me from the death rays of the sun. Even behind the midnight tinted windows, it seemed the beams were targeting for me, never letting me out of their sight.

  An hour at the hair dresser went by quickly. Probably because I had snuck in a catnap between the wash and up-do. At the church, the women dressed in the bride’s quarters while the men waited at the altar for us to arrive.

  I must say, I did very well. I avoided my mother’s questioning eye, made it through the ceremony without passing out or laughing at the moronic vows the couple wrote for each other, and made wearing sunglasses indoors look cool again.

  Once dinner was served, I knew I had to rally and muster up some kind of courage to give my toast to the bride and groom. There was no magic pill to take away the pain, I settled with a celebratory flute of champagne followed by a few much stronger drinks.

  I rose to my feet, surveyed the crowd and gently clinked the side of my glass with a spoon. When all eyes were on me, I started.

  “Today’s a very special day, but it’s also quite sad. My sister Rose and I have been very close for as long as I can remember. She taught me to ride a bike, paint my fingernails and even steered me in the direction of all the little brothers of the boys she had a crush on. I’m sure that was for her personal gain, but because of that, I had my first boyfriend ever.

  “Last night, Rose and I had our final sleepover. We laid in bed and talked about all of those things and it made me remember how much I love her. Rose is the kindest, sweetest, most gentle soul anyone could ever find.

  “With that being said, Corey, I’m assigning you the role of best friend from now on. Rose and I will always be close, but it’s you she needs to confide in. You’re entrusted with this phenomenal woman and I already know you’ll take great care of her.

  “Welcome to our family. It’s nice to finally have a big brother. To Corey and Rose.”

  The attendees burst into applause and Rose gathered me in a tight hug, whispering in my ear that no matter what, we’d always be best friends. It was bittersweet, because even though she meant it, I knew it wasn’t true. It was the natural progression of life. Once you’re married, your spouse is your go to and everyone else was supposed to fall by the wayside.

  I took my seat, careful not rip the hem of my dress or tip over my glass, as Corey’s best man takes the microphone to deliver his speech.

  Levi.

  Douche of the highest order.

  I couldn’t stand him. I had met Levi during one of the wedding activity that Corey actually partook in, and our initial run in wasn’t good. He immediately tried to get in my pants, even after I told him I was involved with the name that shall not be mentioned, but he didn’t care.

  Apparently, in the gospel according to Levi Oliver, if you had a vagina, you were fair game.

  I vaguely heard his toast. He rambled along about college and playing football. Awesome. I did everything I possibly could to drown him out, but it appeared the crowd ate it up. Of course they loved him. He was the guy everyone loved to hate. There was no doubt in my mind that as soon as everyone left the reception, they would be talking shit behind his back.

  That’s what he deserved. After all, he was proud of his bad boy, womanizer status among everyone in Manhattan. It was his calling card and he knew it.

  Like I said, douche of the highest order.

  “To Corey and his lovely bride Rose, may you both be filled with tremendous happiness, health and endless lovemaking.” My voice boomed in the room as I looked about with my champagne flute in hand before I heard the smiling guests say the same sentiment. Sipping my drink, I barely caught the self-indignant eye roll that Rose’s stuck-up sister just did.

  Violet Collins.

  Graceful and statuesque with her easy smiles and ramrod posture. With lush lips that could tempt Satan to become a Good Samaritan. Lovely, beguiling on the exterior but I wasn’t fooled at all. Her ladylike manners thawed each time we come across each other. I called this process the stripping of the queen because she aims with a sharpened tongue and harsher claws.

  It was a shame really. I believed beauty such as hers should be enjoyed by many—yet here she was, arrogant as she arched her brow when she saw me make my way toward her. What could I say; I loved to spar with women that could get my engines revved up—in and out of the bedroom.

  “Hello Violet, can I get you a refill on your drink? You seem abnormally tense to be in a festive wedding celebration.” Sarcasm played a major role between us, and though I thrived on seeing that immediate flammable spark in her eyes, there was something in those beautiful depths that didn’t light all the way like it used to do.

  “Save yourself the trouble, Oliver—there isn’t enough penicillin in Manhattan to get me in your bed.” She smirked as she looked around the room before clashing with my eyes again. “You should try some of my sister’s friends…I heard some of them are quite easy to impress—it’s more like your style.”

  Her regal smile faltered when she saw me close the gap between us as I dipped my head low, testing her reaction as I gauged how likely she’d fall in my trap. “How unfortunate…” I trailed off, pausing for effect as I breathed her in while I felt her body tremble against mine. “But I do love a good challenge, Violet… I can thaw this frostiness of yours in a heartbeat…I won’t even ask for anything back. Consider it as my service for the common good and for the general public.”
<
br />   “Not in this lifetime, Levi. You think you’re so damn great—that you’re dick is God’s gift to women…Well guess what Casanova, I’m doing the world a favor without having the urge to spread anymore of your toxic, STD-laden prowess.

  “You are a heel dressed in a three thousand dollar Italian suit. But it doesn’t matter how polished you seem to be—because in my eyes, you’re simply just an egotistical pig that needs validation for his masculinity. If you want to display your virility, try the gym. Hit two birds with one stone kinda thing. So please. Do me a favor and find some poor girl that will surely be crying by daybreak because she fell for that trap that is Levi Oliver. I’m going to go back to avoiding my mother.”

  Fuck me. She was so hot. “God, it turns me the fuck on when you get all hot and bothered talking so passionately about me.”

  Violet snorted, giving me a cutting glance before she strutted away from me.

  #

  “What the fuck is this, Terri?” I groaned out as exhaled my breath before pulling out of her. “Have you been messing around with that dildo of yours? You feel loose—you know I hate it when you do that shit and you come around thinking that I’d still fuck your pussy when it’s all stretched out and shit.”

  “Well that dildo wouldn’t have been in use in the first place had you called me this weekend like you said you would. We made those plans a month ago. You knew I was flying into town.” She smirked before rolling on her side, stroking her finger on my chest. “Where the hell were you anyway?”

  “I was at my buddy’s wedding and got too drunk to bother coming back to the city.” Terri was a flight stewardess with a hectic schedule that matched mine. We met three years ago and our arrangement worked perfectly. It wasn’t until she met another man who got her into sex toys and dumped her a month after that she became quite a little obsessed with her battery operated monster. And when I mentioned monster, I meant the width. She loved the obscenely large and thick as a knuckle kind. And since she was still all bruised in the heart, she deemed herself not ready to see other men…apart from yours truly; someone unleash urges that a toy couldn’t provide for her. I’m not by all means small in that department but to compare my dick to a knuckle, a man’s got to know when to admit defeat.