Damian picked up his phone and dialed the number.
“Hello, this is Alma Larsen,” a voice said on the other end of the line. Damian startled. The voice was deep, and not a womanly deep. Not Nina Simone or a grandma who’d smoked three packs a day her entire life. It was Barry White deep, the kind of voice that made a man’s balls stir and his big toe shoot up in his boot.
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