1. To the caller, when I first answer, I am the inanimate Barbie.
They do not know what I look like, who I am, how I am feeling, or how I feel. They can only imagine. It is my job to indulge their fantasies, to convince them that I am not a doll. I am their dream turned real.
If they ask if I am blonde, I become a blonde. If they ask how wet I am, I tell them that my panties are drenched. I respond to every sound the caller makes with an affirmation, I encourage them, I breathe life into the fantasy, I carve the doll out of flesh.
2. I’m 60 years old, have a BA in Cultural Anthropology from Columbia University, and married for 25 years.
Men call me for an infinity of reasons.
Of course, they call to masterbate. I call it “Executive Stress Relief”.
It’s not sex; it’s a cocktail of testosterone, fueled by addiction to pornography, loneliness, and the need to hear a woman’s voice.
I make twice the money I made in the corporate world. I work from home, the money transfers into my bank account daily.
3. Just last night I received possibly the most disturbing phone-sex call I’d had in a long time.
A caller shot himself with me on the phone.
The unmistakable sound of a gun-shot followed by the heavy and wet sound of a body falling with a thud to the floor.
Things like this always scare me.
My current track record stands at one confession of incestuous sexual abuse, being asked to perform fellatio on my younger brother, and two other suicides.
4. I have a naturally high voice. I’m also immature and submissive. The voice I use on the phone is somewhat a representation of those qualities.
There’s one specific voice tone I use when pretending to be sexually aroused.
Imagine a catholic school girl getting de-virginized by her history teacher. “Oh, oh, Mr. Johnson, it’s so big! You’re gonna hurt me!”
5. There was a guy who wanted to be my puppy.
He called me almost every week and we would talk for more than an hour, but I never knew what to say to him.
I would talk about taking him out for a walk, and puting down newspaper for him, and going to the groomers.
I don’t even know if he liked it, because he would never say anything.
I used to hate when he called, because I knew I would have to pull an hour-plus worth of bullshit out of my ass.
6. I got into phone-sex because I thought: ‘Why not get paid for talking dirty, instead of doing it for free?”
It brings up my self-esteem up so much, knowing guys are looking at my pics and wanting to talk to me.
7. My first night was on a Saturday at midnight.
It was a gentleman who I believe called himself Bob.
He told me about his first experience with a glory hole.
He explained that he had no-one he felt comfortable telling this to, and I felt a strange intimacy between us, though it was rooted in a fantasy.
I think it’s easier to release repressed desires to a non-judgmental, fictional person, because there are no consequences in the outside world.
8. I am a straight male who speaks to women.
They want me.
They want me to talk to them, and to take them to another world.
I’m good at it. I’m a pro. A ladies man.
I speak to younger women. I speak to older women. I speak both spanish and english. I have been thrown offers left and right.
They want me to meet up and have my way with them, but I keep it only to phone conversations.
9. I never thought I would work in the phone sex industry.
All those years doing customer service, my customers would comment on my sexy voice.
I thought I was being professional, not sexy.
This work is customer service. It’s just your customers leave with more than a smile.
A contract of mutual self-delusion exists between the caller and phone sex operator. The caller imagines he is speaking to his most secret fantasy-and the operator willingly plays the part.
A phone sex operator must be able understand the caller’s wants. But more importantly, they must be able to decrypt the unspoken desires. Those things that are too preposterous, too scandalous, or humiliating to articulate.
From a few mumbled words, a phone sex operator must weave and finely detailed fantasy encounter. It requires a vivid imagination, acting ability, and above all, a deep understanding of the human appetite. What do we crave? What words have the maximum yield? What tone will most effectively reach into a man’s trousers?
Phone-sex is theatre. An artificial passion-play in real-time, directed by a skilled verbal fantasist, with only one possible conclusion.
Published by Twin Palms Press in 2009
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