The Phone

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It was a Saturday night. My girlfriend and I had just gotten back to my apartment. We were cuddling on the couch. It had been a great date, and I intended to take it all the way tonight. We were on the couch in each other's arms, our lips in almost constant contact. We indulged in the sensation of our lips against that of our partner's.

This lasted for a while, until the phone rang. We pulled away from each other, and glanced over to the phone. After a few moments, the ringing stopped.

"Shouldn't you have answered that?" my girlfriend asked.

"They'll leave a message if it's important," I responded, then returned to kissing her.

After only a few minutes, the phone rang again. This time, I just ignored it and kept kissing her. It stopped ringing. The phone did not ring for a while. As we were about to make our way to the bedroom, the phone rang for a third time. Annoyed, I finally picked it up.

"Hey, who is this?" I ask angrily. "You're really bugging me."

"What do you think you're doing?" asked a deep, rough voice from the other end.

"What do you mean 'What do I think I'm doing?' Why is that your concern?" I snapped, becoming more irritated.

"Why in hell are you sitting there making out with my daughter?"

I was caught off guard. His daughter? How did he know my number? More importantly, how did he know what I was doing? I turned to my girlfriend. She was looking at me with a worried expression on her face.

"Uh, your dad is on the phone," I told her. "He's asking why I was making out with you."

"But... my dad is dead," she stuttered, wide-eyed.

My jaw fell open in shock. I nervously put the phone up to my ear. The line was dead.

Dropping the phone, I slowly looked over to my girlfriend.

"T-Then who was on the phone?"

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