It was just a coincidence. Beca happened to not have been busy, she happened to have her phone, she happened to be laying down in her quiet, empty room, playing Angry Birds when a call came through on her phone. The ring was loud and obnoxious and Beca picked up without looking for the sake of her already over worked ears.

She was met with something she could have never guessed. The slightly familiar, muffled sounds of pleasuring, and the sound of moans. Moans, that resembled the nearly angelic voice of Chloe Beale, who was Beca's almost closest friend.

Beca should hang up, she shouldn't listen, especially because she guessed this was accidental as the reception of the microphone was as smooth as sandpaper, but she couldn't. The short girl couldn't even move as the slow moans went right to the apex of her thighs, always having wondered how the girl sounded in the throws of passion, no matter how much she tried to deny it.

Then, there was a twist. As the redhead cried out, the words were coherent. "Oh God-, Beca!"

The facts were these. At approximately 6pm on December 4th, Chloe Beale was exhausted after a long day of singing without instruments and catching up on her overly ambitious class load. She returned to her dorm, went inside, and fell into a deep, deep sleep, which without her nightly regimen, included dreams she didn't want. Dreams of dark blue eyes peeking up from between her thighs, warm lips on hers, and dark blown hair flushed across pale skin that she'd just love to cover with markings of possession.

At around 10pm, she woke up, with a warmth between her legs she couldn't even begin to believe, and if she would have thought at that moment, she might have just disrobed and walked to the shower, like she usually did, drowning her passion with a chill and going to sleep as if these feelings didn't exist. But Chloe Beale couldn't think, as she slipped her hand below her the hem of her shorts.

The shorts, in which tucked in the back pocket was her phone, grinding against the bed along with her hips in a desperate dance.

It was a coincidence, that in that moment, when the voice asked what it could help her with, it's volume set much lower that the moans ripping from her lips, that she gave in, and moaned out the name of the girl who she wished was there with her, making her feel so much better. "…Bec-ca.."

And at 10:30, she said that name again, except, this time she had an audience on the other line, as she writhed, her hips arched up, her face contorted, and she let go before falling back, and falling asleep, oblivious of the soft beep as Beca hung up.

It wasn't until morning that she saw the call, a call, that she had no memory of having. She brushed it off to something she had missed, not having checked the time before her little rendezvous with sin, and she went on with her day, not realizing the complete and utter torture she put a certain short brunette through as she danced around the auditorium, the girl with the dark eyes imagining everything she did in a much darker light. Dark, as in the view she wanted with only the moon as a light, that skin that was only slightly tanner than her own completely revealed to her rather than covered with that red, loose dress.

AN: Gonna leave it off there ;P why don't you guys tell me what you'd like to see? :) I'm new to this fandom but I'm completely in love with it. Thanks for reading! I'll update soon