The other woman.

Hello, is this Mr Connell?
Holy hell!  It's YOU!
I'm sorry, sir?
I've been waiting for your call, you glorious, glorious slice of womanhood, you.
(At this stage, I thought the pause - the distance between us - was too dramatic, and don't get me started about the babel in the background, but finally she spoke.)
Yes sir. I'm ringing you about the automobile accident you were involved in last year -
- Oh come on.
What, sir?!
Come on! Let's not pretend.  What are you wearing?
... I'm sorry, sir?!
You must be so beautiful.  Are you wearing silk? I'm not normally a fan but -
- Yes sir. You were in a bad accident last year and you have to pay -
- Oh look. I don't give a good god fuck if you ARE a scam caller. What coloured bra, woman! What coloured undies?! Is there filigree in the -
Sir. You need to send us -
- I need you, babe. (At this point I start breathing overly heavy because a) I'm not sure how good the connection is at their end, and b) I don't want them to think I'm an asthmatic.)
...
I need to know, lover, are you waxed?
JUST GO, SIR!
<click>
And she is gone.
Too easily they waltz in and out of my life, these ones.
Too damned easily, I sigh to myself.

Je t'aime, mais vraiment moi non plus!