Page 21 of Can I Tell You Something?
“Fine,” she says, sighing with her whole body. “I know who you are.”
“Finally,” I nudge up against her shoulder with mine. “So glad we got that off our chests.”
“Was it the DMs?” she asks. “Is that how you figured it out?”
“It was the DMs.”
She groans and buries her face in her hands. “I am mortified. I was trying to delete them.”
“Why? I told you. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I just…” She shakes her head and her silence gives way to nervous laughter.
“Just what?”
“I still can’t believe this is happening. I thought your name was Mac. I assumed it was short for MacKenzie or MacDonald or something.”
“Mac is Cam spelled backwards,” I clarify.
“Oh. So it is. But you’re not Mac. You’re a real person, and you’re here. In my chalet. I never thought you’d read those messages, far less turn up in my actual life. It’s awkward as fuck.”
“I don’t think it’s awkward.”
She shifts to face me. “You don’t think it’s awkward that your friend’s little sister listens to your audio porn and then messages you to tell you how hard she came? And now you’re stuck on holiday with her, sleeping on the other side of her bedroom wall for two weeks?”
“I particularly enjoyed the ones about how hard you came.” My dick twitches in my ski pants at the memory of her words.
‘You’re a menace. You made me come in under a minute and I had to pause the rest of the audio to recover.’
“We’re not talking about this,” she says, shuffling to face forward again.
We’ll see.
I’m not going to push her, and we’re nearing the top of the lift, but this conversation is far from over. We hop off at the same time and ski clear of the exit path and crowds reading piste maps, coming to a stop by a treeline near the top of the slope.
“Does Ryan know about… what you do?” Hannah asks, fiddling with the velcro strap of her gloves.
“Yeah, he knows. He’s cool with it.”
Her eyes snap up to mine. “Oh my God, does he do this too? Please tell me I haven’t come to my brother’s voice.”
That would be pretty fucking awkward. I know a few other voice actors well enough to chat online, but most keep their identity a closely guarded secret. Some have government jobs, or wives and kids who don’t know about their side-hustle. It’s bound to have happened, a listener getting off to someone they know in real life. A co-worker. A friend. Their kid’s teacher.
“Nah, not as far as I’m aware. He’s a busy boy, doesn’t have the time. Or the creative talent.”
She slides over to a nearby tree and screams. A bird flaps free from the branches and flies off.
“Feel better?”
“No,” she says with an angry grunt. “So Ryan knows about you, and I know about you, but Ryan doesn’t know I know about you. Right?”
“Correct.”
“Can we please keep it that way?” she asks, desperately.
“Of course. We don’t talk about that side of my work much.”
“OK. I’m just mortified. And I’d be so ashamed if he knew.”
