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"Hey, Davy," she'd breathe, "how 'bout a quickie?

"In December the book tour ended, and I resumed a more regular kind of life—staying put in Michigan, playing basketball twice a week at the rec center, sleeping in my own bed.

Nicole's dirty talk was both ridiculous and oddly arousing. It was actually so comfortable, a lot of nights I chose to sleep out in the van rather than on a stranger's sagging couch. We chatted for a few minutes, then got into the phone sex again. This time I went Shakespeare: "Oh baby, wherefore art thy labia? Now that we'd had sex a couple of times, I wanted to know what she was all about—I wanted to know where she worked; I wanted to know what she was into (besides having phone sex with strangers); I wanted to know what kind of person calls hotel rooms to have phone sex with strangers.

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Nicole was a great listener, willing to indulge each tangent of every story she was told.

She was as curious about my life as I was about hers.

For the most part, I stopped answering Nicole's calls.

I was busy, and I was dating real girls—real in that they were in the flesh in front of me, and real in that they were unquestionably biological girls.

Inevitably, one of their new beaus calls back to say, "Hey man, I got your message.

Emilie's down in Chile for two weeks, but you sounded really down…. Listen, this is gonna sound crazy, but okay, I've been doing some thinking, and what I think is, I think we should meet. I'll come down to Austin or Waco or wherever you live.

That night Nicole found me, Peter and I had been on the road for six months; we were about a hundred cities into the tour. If the fantasy is that we're having sex, I don't want to just zip up my pants the second we're done and leave. She also told me that her mother had passed away recently and that she'd been having a tough time with it—they'd been especially close.

Three nights later, in Oklahoma City, I was getting ready for bed out in the van when my cell phone rang. The next few times we talked, she was still whispering, which was starting to seem a little suspicious.

Every few nights, I'd be out in the van after a show, making my bed in the backseat, when Nicole would call, and we'd get hot and heavy.

I was still wary that this was all some crazy prank by my friends and that our calls were being recorded, so during phone sex I kept things tongue-in-check, as though hamming it up for an audience.

In a fucked-up way, this was the closest I'd had to a real girlfriend in years.

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