One night, while doing my nails and faking orgasms, my caller asked to hear how wet I was. I have one of those jars with a sponge inside that you dip your fingers in to take off the nail polish. It’s half empty, so I shook it gently back and forth, and moaned quietly. He was silent when I brought the phone back to my ear, so I asked if he was still there. He took a deep breath and said, “You’re really playing with your pussy, aren’t you?”

Oh yea baby.

Another morning, I was enjoying my grits and eggs when I was interrupted by a fellow who likes to hear women get off. He, too, asked to hear how wet I was so I put the phone down by my plate and squished my fingers in and out of my grits faster and faster while I yelped in the background.

He said, “That’s the real deal isn’t it?! You can’t fake that shit!”

Nope, can’t fake it at all.

When I licked the grits of my fingers, he asked if I was slurping up my cum. “Oh yea baby!”

“You are so fucking hot and nasty.” I can’t tell you how many times this dude has called me since then.

This works much better than just grabbing your cheek and slapping it back and forth against your teeth, because you can move the phone away from you, and moan at the same time. It sounds like you’re really doing it!

If you open your mouth wide, and try to swallow the back of your tongue, while breathing through your throat, it sounds like you’re gagging on a dick. If you move the back of your tongue back and forth while saying “ahh” it sounds like you’re moving the dick in and out of your mouth while gagging on it. Having a cold is awesome for this, because when you sniff, it sounds like you have a runny nose and teary eyes from the force of cock-gagging.

I used to actually use a vibrator to make my blow job sound effects. I keep one next to my notebook in case a caller wants to hear it. One night, I transferred a cat hair from it to my uvula. I spent the rest of the night gagging and dry heaving trying to dislodge it. That’s when I started using the tongue swallowing trick. Much safer.The trick to faking a good orgasm is to gradually moan faster and faster, then take a deep breath in, hold it for a beat, then let it out with a loud groan. In real life, when a girl cums, there’s always a hesitation between the moans and the actual orgasm.

My cats used to run away when I’d have my fake orgasms, now they’re used to it. Nothing is funnier than brushing your cat while faking an orgasm and hearing a guy say, “You’re really cumming aren’t you? I wish I could be there watching you right now.” Yes, because my oversized sweat pants covered in cat hair is sexier than hell.

I’m all about making it real for them, though. I mean, they should be getting the most bang for their buck, right? A friend remarked it’s like an old time radio show, and it totally is. The problem is, when I’m doing something innocent, like playing around with leftover hummus on my plate, I’ll think things like, “That sounds sort of like a wet pussy.” It ruins a lot of stuff for me.

While folding a belt in half and snapping it makes an effective spanking noise, I prefer to use my ruler. I found this ruler in my school bookstore, it’s rubber and very flexible. If I smack it against my foot-board just so, it sounds very much like a riding crop against a bare ass. My little subs love it.

I’ve also hurt myself in an effort to make it real for my callers.

I spoke with a gentleman who wanted to tear my tank top and panties off of me. He asked me to let him hear me rip my shirt. So, being the good phone whore I am, I grabbed a rag and tore it in half. He was completely silent while I did it, and when I asked him if he heard me, it took him a moment to answer. Then, with thick voice, he asked me to rip my panties off, too. I took one of the pieces of rag, that’s much smaller now, and start to rip that slowly. I had the cloth up to my chin so he could hear it, and my grip slipped and I punched myself in the chest. Hard.

One night, while talking to my body builder lover, I was sitting on my floor, punching my mattress. The mattress slipped at some point, and my next punch hit my box spring. I cut my knuckles open and they were swollen the next day. You can’t really explain that injury to people.

It’s a tough job, but I like doing it!

“I have a request for Mary Anne from John, you spoke to him on [whatever date]…”

John is a common enough name, and I can’t find him, so I ask Mindy to refresh my memory.

“He wanted you to be motherly and, he likes to talk about hair…”

“OH!” I yell in recognition.

Mindy chuckles. “I take it he made an impression?”

“Yea, you can’t really forget a hair cutting fetishist!”

He still sounds very chipper and happy, and asks if I remember him when we’re finally connected.

“Yes! I’ve been waiting to hear if you really went out and got your hair cut!”

“I did, that same day I talked to you. That’s been about a month now, right.”

“It has! I’m so glad you did it. I have so many questions!” I really do, so my excited curiosity is genuine. “How did it happen? What did your lady say?”

He laughs indulgently. “Well, after I hung up with you, I was really excited about it, so I decided to just go do it. And my girlfriend was coming in as I was leaving and she said she wanted to go with me…”

“Oh! So she got to watch!”

“Yea, she was pretty excited about that. And the beautician let her sit in the empty chair next to me and watch.”

“Wow! I bet she was really turned on!”

“She was, it was great. She watched with her mouth open, and she looked so horny the whole time!” We laugh. “The stylist kept asking if I was sure…she first put it in a ponytail like you said, and then when that was gone, she said she could just give me a short haircut.”

“But, you didn’t do that, did you?”

“Nope. I looked at my girlfriend and she just kind of nodded at me, so I told her to just buzz it off. It felt really good when she did that, and my girlfriend was so turned on.”

“So, you went home and had awesome sex, I bet!”

“Oh, yea, it was really good…”

“So, she got to fuck your ass with a strapon, right?”

“Oh yes, she did. And it was incredible. We were both so turned on anyway from the haircut that it just ended up being really hot and wild.”

There was no indication that he wanted to have phone sex. In fact, at one point, I hear a beep that sounded like a car’s warning light. When I ask him what it was, he tells me that he’s driving home from work and thought about me. He says he remembered he promised to keep me updated.

“I’m glad you did,” I say. “I was wondering if you went through with it.”

“My girlfriend ended up getting her hair buzzed off a couple of days later!”

“She did! How is that?”

“Oh man, it is so hot, she looks so sexy. So, now we both have bald heads.”

“Did you shave her?”

“Not the first time, but now we do shave each other. It’s kinda like our foreplay.”

“Amazing.”

“Yea, and she was only going to do it for a short time, but she loved it so much, she went and got some really nice wigs instead. And I came home the other day, and she made me take the trash out. It was heavy so I looked inside, and she’d thrown out all of the shampoos and conditioners and stuff…”

“Oh, so you both are sticking to the bald thing for a while, huh?”

“I guess so,” he says, laughing. “It’s fun, though. She’d wear different wigs and it was kinda like having different girlfriends. But then, one day, she was doing some shopping, and she got hot, so she took it off. Then she just decided to keep shopping without it on.”

“I bet she got a lot of attention that day!”

“She said she loved it. She said it make her feel sexy and unique, so she’s been going around without the wigs on either.”

“Wow, I bet that’s a turn on for you…”

“It is, I love watching people checking her out, and she seems so confident and sexy now.”

“You’ve got me thinking I should cut my hair!” I say.

“Really?” That seems to have piqued his interest.

“Yes! I’ve been tucking it under and checking it out in the mirror. I think I want to. And my boyfriend keeps telling me it would look hot.”

“You really should, go for it!”

“I want to…”

“Don’t wait, when we hang out, you should do it, surprise your guy.”

“I think I will, after hearing how you two turned out,” I tell him with a giggle. “You’ve created a monster.”

He laughs, and I hear the beep of his car door opening. “Well, I’m home now, but I’ll call back in a couple of weeks and you can tell me about your haircut.”

“That sounds good, John.” And we hang up. I shake my head. I was a little confused the entire time, waiting for a sexual detour that never came. At least he seemed like he had a good time talking to me.

Two Weeks Later

John calls back, to see if I got my hair cut. This time he sounds a little distracted and our conversation doesn’t flow as easily.

“Are you and your lady still loving the shaved heads?”

“Oh yea. I think we’re going to keep it up for a while,” he confides. I’m not really sure where to go with this conversation. He sounds horny, unlike the last time he called, but I can’t figure out what we’re supposed to be doing.

Finally he asks if I ever went and cut off my hair. His voice is thick and quiet, so now I know what he’s after. I start to create a story about getting my hair cut similar to his story.

I tell him I went to the salon immediately after getting off the phone with him. I tell him I brought my boyfriend, but I couldn’t bring myself to go bald. Instead, I just got a pixie cut.

“Oh, that’s as short as you can get without shaving it,” he says, his voice distant. I figure I’m going to stop trying to include him in the conversation and just talk.

“My boyfriend came home, and I grabbed him and told him we were going out to dinner, since I didn’t feel like cooking. I took us to a restaurant that’s across from a salon, and I made it seem like I just decided there and then. I figured if your lady liked watching you get your hair cut so much, my guy might, too…”

“And did he?” He’s whispering now.

“He did! I could see him getting hard through his jeans while she was cutting it.”

“How did she cut it?”

“Well, first, she pulled it back into a ponytail, and cut it on the other side of the rubberband. Then she evened it all around with her scissors, and asked if I was sure. She said I had such a pretty, full head of hair, and she felt bad cutting it off.”

“Yea, your hair was down to your butt, right?”

“It was! But, I told her I was sure, and she took out the clippers.”

“You got it buzzed?” very thick voice now.

“Oh yea, it’s buzzed all the way around, with just a little length on the top so I can make it spikey if I want to.”

“Did she use the combs? You know, to guide it?”

“For the top, for the back she didn’t at all, it’s shaved clean then gradually gets longer as it goes up.”

“It’s super short, yea?”

“Yea.”

“Does your boyfriend like it?”

“Oh yea, he can’t keep his hands off of it!”

There’s a long pause, then a sigh. “Thank you, Mary Anne.”

“You’re welcome…” I shake my head and chuckle as we hang up. I wonder if he’ll call again. None of us have hair anymore, so I’m not sure how that will work.

I guess I’m not doing as terribly as I thought at explaining things; I didn’t get a ton of questions. Thank you to all you guys who wrote just to tell me you like what I write. That makes me happy!

Here are your questions:

Hey Charlotte, I’m a huge fan of your site, and I’ve gotten my friends addicted. Anyway, I was just wondering if whether or not your kids knew about your awesome occupation as a phone whore? I would be honored if my mother was a telefloozy.

Carolyn

Thank you!

I am not a mother, though. My parents know, but we only ever talk about it obliquely. They don’t know about this site. I go back and forth about telling them but I’m not sure if I should…

****

Do women ever call?

Ashley Squared

Actually, yes. I’ve had three. One girl said she’d never been with a woman, but she liked calling up when she masturbated. That was simple, I just pretty much described what I like having done to myself. The second wanted to trade stories about the last time we were with a girl, but then someone came in and she hung up. The last one was a bit dirtier, where she wanted me to be in control and call her a whore. That was a little bit harder, for some reason. It was hard for me to call a woman a fucking little whore, even though I’ve no problem if a caller calls me that, or I call him that…I’m still not sure why that might be.

****

Does it frighten you that you forget to post things because they are “normal” to you? I like the mini dialogs that you have with the operator before you get put though to a caller. Especially when they make fun of the caller. Given what I’ve read so far it seems like a way more exciting job than any corporate desk-type-job you could possibly have.

Has your position as a phone sex worker proven to be more lucrative than the $11 you started out with?

sooshie

Thanks! It’s fun that there’s that time talking to Mindy. I can get out the laughter before I talk to the guy, or brace myself if it’s something a little out there.

I was late the other day, and the first call she gave me was a man calling himself “Stephanie” who wanted to talk about my panties. I asked if this was punishment for my being late and she assured me that it was.

And yes, it is disturbing that it’s all become so normal. I get incest and dom calls almost every time I work. The only thing we’re not allowed to talk about are underage fantasies. Anything else is fair game

A lot of times, I’ll laugh in passing at something that happened, and I’ll mention it to Dennis. He’s the one who tells me it’s so fucked up and I should write about it. If no one ever asked me about my day, I’m sure I’d overlook a lot of good calls!

Of course, because it has become so normal, I have to remind myself that it’s not, at all, to everyone else. I already had a dirty mind to begin with, and I’ve crossed a threshold. Before I took this job, I didn’t even say the word “pussy” out loud. Now, I’ll tell a dude who’s annoying me at the bar that I wanna take him home and fuck his ass with my dildo.

It’s more lucrative than being poor, but not by much! It’s not a high paying job, in the least. It just works out because I can focus on my school and do homework in between calls.

****

First off thanks for accepting me as your friend on Myspace. My question is what is the most bizarre thing you had to do for someone on the phone?

Jim

I like Myspace friends!

It’s hard to decide what’s the most bizarre. I’ve had a guy ask me to put the phone by my butt and fart for him, Beavis and Butthead style. I couldn’t do it. Another wanted me to rub the phone in my bush, so I just rubbed it on my hair. There is one guy who calls from time to time and wants me to cry while he cums. So, I just have to fake sob and sniffle until he’s done. I don’t know if that’s more bizarre or annoying, though.

****

I’ve got a pretty good idea of the type of calls you don’t like, so my question is, which calls are easiest, or the most fun? “Short calls” would be the obvious answer, but what makes a “good day at work” for you?

J. Random

The most fun calls are the ones where we’re just talking. I genuinely enjoy talking to people, so when someone wants to just shoot the shit, I’m happy.

Some of the guys are just lonely, so they really want someone to talk to. They’ll tell me about their day, their lives, and I listen and am interested in what they have to say. Some guys want to talk about their particular fetish, but it’s not necessarily having phone sex or acting out a fantasy, it’s just sharing something with me they can’t with anyone else.

As I’m a curious person anyway, it’s a chance to ask a lot of questions and learn about this different perspective on sexuality. I think they can tell that I’m genuinely interested, so usually they open up. You can feel that moment where it switches from being an awkward introduction, to them settling in and actually opening up, and that’s a very cool feeling. Those guys usually sound very relieved or grateful when they hang up, so I feel like, even if this job is kinda gross and kinda weird, I’m doing something good for a lot of people.

****

Hello Charlotte! Out of curiosity, would you ever recommend this sort of job to another girl? If she were extremely open, can deal with a lot of bullshit, sorta bizarre, and had a weird sense of humor. Do you think she’d be able to handle it?

I’m asking because I’ll be needing a job when I get into university that I can do from my house, I’ll be a visual arts major so I’d like something that I can work on projects while on the phone. Also, it seems like the sorta thing I’d find enjoyable, I like to make people happy. Also it seems like I wouldn’t get stuck doing it for years.

So any advice? Also, I love your stories, they really brighten up a dreary day in the great white north.

Andy

Thank you!

I would absolutely recommend it to someone like you! Being a bit bizarre with a warped sense of humor can only help.

It is nice being able to work in between calls since you’re at home. The only thing is, you might have an hour or two of downtime, then your phone will ring while you’re in the zone. It’s hard to muster up the enthusiasm for a call when that happens. I’d been stuck on a paper that I was writing all day. I just couldn’t connect my ideas. For some reason, it all clicked in the middle of a phone call, then I was just trying to rush him so I could get it down before it left. All I could think while talking to him was, “hurry up and cum so I can explain Descartes’ Conceivability Argument!”

You don’t make very much, at all, though. You can work a bunch of hours to increase your paycheck, but it’s exhausting having to talk to that many perverts for that long. And, I mean “perverts” in the best way.

A few weeks back, in response to this:
Pet Peeve Numero Uno

When I say, “Hey baby. What do you wanna do today?”

And they say, “Whatever you wanna do…”

Really?

I always take a deep breath and a long pause so I can stop myself from telling him I want shove a 12 inch dildo up his ass while I pluck the hairs off his balls one at a time with a pair of tweezers. In front of his mom.

ab posted this:

See, here’s what I don’t get: you claim you can’t do the whole Domme thing very well, but what you came up with right there is *exactly* what it’s about. I’m very submissive, and if I ever called a line and you were to say something like that to me…well, that would be a major turn on. Not because I want my ball hairs plucked out in front of my mother - because that is so erotically forward, dominant and controlling.

That sort of blew my mind a little bit. That’s a good piece of advice, thank you, ab! That’s probably why the guy in the bar I mentioned earlier didn’t run when I offered to shove my dildo up his ass, but actually kept talking to me. Not because he necessarily wanted my dildo, but because I was so erotically forward…The more I take these calls, the more it makes sense. And I’ve kept your advice in mind when I get indecisive subs on the phone, too, so I appreciate it!

I get a lot of calls from guys who want to be with moms. Sometimes they want to fuck a friend’s mom, but more often than not, it’s their own. Some of them claim they already are fucking their mom and just want to share stories. These are easy enough; I have my stock caught-my-son-masturbating-and-joined-in scenario that I use. If he asks for a long block of time, I try to get it so we take turns telling stories, and I make mine parallel his.

Others have only fantasized about it and want me to pretend to be Mom.

What cracks me up is their fascination with Mom’s robe. Nearly every one has talked about their mom walking around in her robe with nothing on underneath. Then, Mom bends over in the refrigerator to make her little boy a sandwich, and her robe falls open. When I have to be motherly, and the guy asks what I’m wearing, I’ve learned to say “my favorite robe.” The way they groan, you’d think that was the sexiest thing on the planet.

Of course, they ask if they’re bigger than Dad in the pants. And of course they are!

Usually, the guy sets it up so that Mom is widowed or divorced, and she hasn’t dated anyone since. Of course, her devoted son feels bad that her needs aren’t being met. It’s his duty as a good son to make Mom cum since no one else is.

As commonplace as these calls have become for me, it is still slightly disturbing to say, “oh yes, make Mommy cum!”

The best one was the guy who never even thought about fucking his mom until they were drunk together at a wedding. He told me she was 64, short and skinny, wears granny glasses and isn’t sexy at all. They went outside to share a cigarette at this wedding, and somehow started making out. They went back to the hotel and got it on. He says she’s come to visit, and he’s fucked her outside of his bedroom door with his wife sleeping just inside. He says it turns him on so much because it’s so nasty and taboo. And she smokes while she gives him blowjobs. At the end of our call, when he came, he yelled that he wanted me to tell his wife he was fucking his mother.

The strangest just happened tonight.

Mindy tells me the guy wants me to be 225lbs and only 35-40. Even though he asked for motherly, I didn’t immediately think incest because of the age I was supposed to be. Then, as usual, Mindy saves the best detail for last and tells me he wants to get me pregnant.

Oh, man…

After we dispense with the descriptions, he tells me he wants me to get pregnant with a little girl.

I tell him, “oh yes, fill me up with your swimmers!”

“Really? You want me to make you pregnant?” He sounds very young, and has the quintessential nerd voice.

“Yes! Breed me, baby!”

We go for a little bit, with the moaning and the dirty talk, and he suddenly says, “I want to call you Mom…”

“Yea? You wanna fuck Mommy? Fuck Mommy, get me pregnant!”

“I do! I want to get you pregnant, Mom. Lay on your back and let me fill you up…”

“Fill Mommy up with your seed like a good little boy!”

“I want to get you pregnant with a girl.” He says, breathing heavily.

“Then give Mommy that seed and let’s make a baby girl!”

“When she’s born, I want you to breastfeed her while I’m fucking you.”

Now, that’s a whole lotta fucked up. I just moaned. What the fuck do you say to that?!

“Will you do that for me, Mommy?”

“Of course I will, darling. You fuck me, and I’ll breastfeed you and the baby at the same time.”

Have I ever mentioned that I do believe this job has completely ruined me? I mean, really. That’s so not an image I ever wanted in my mind. But, somehow, I find a way to make it even worse.

“And when she gets older, you’ll fuck her, too, won’t you?” I ask him.

“I will. You’re such a good mom, you knew that’s what I wanted didn’t you?” He’s nearly breathless, thank the gods.

“Of course I know what my little boy wants. Then you can get her pregnant, too, right?”

And that’s all it took. He comes and I hang up with a shiver. I wonder if there will ever come a day when I no longer bat an eye at the things men want to talk about…

I’m thinking that I should have a post dedicated to answering your questions, comments concerns, and suggestions.

I feel as though I’m getting to a point where a lot of my calls seem very normal, and it’s hard for me to remember that it’s not normal to other people. At all! So, I worry that I leave out details, or don’t explain things as well as I should.

Please, send me anything that’s on your mind. I want it to be an open forum and for you to feel free to ask me anything.

If there are things you want me to talk about more (or less), or if you have suggestions to make this site more entertaining, please let me know that, too.

Email me at Charlotte@whoreonhold.com

or, message me on Myspace. Friend me too, while you’re at it.

I look forward to hearing from you.

“Hi, Charlotte! I have Bill on the line. He wants you to be Asian, but instead of your Asian character’s name, you’re going to use ‘Grace.’”

This is my first call of the day, so I’m still perky and curious. “Hi, Bill!”

“Hi. Did she tell you I want you to go by ‘Grace?’” He’s soft-spoken and quiet. He clears his throat a lot, and sounds a little bit nervous. He seems nice, maybe a little shy.

“Yes, she did!” I say, brightly.

“Ok, well, I have this fantasy I wanted to play out with you. Would that be ok?”

“Of course! Anything you want, sweetheart.”

He clears his throat again. “Well, you’re an Asian girl, and you’re very conservative. I’ve always had a crush on you, but we’ve only been friends for years.”

“Ok, do I know that you have a crush on me?” I ask him.

These kinds of calls, where the guy tells me the fantasy he wants to act out are usually super simple. The guy eats up most of his time telling me his story, and usually, he’s so worked up by the end of it, it’s only another minute or two before he shoots and hangs up.

“No, I’ve never told you about my crush,” he says, “But, this weekend, I’m in town visiting for the holiday. I’m staying in your spare room and I’m going to make a move. Remember, you’re a very conservative girl. You want to wait until you’re married until you have sex. So, even though I’m going to keep trying, you’re going to keep telling me no, ok?”

“Ok!”

I assume we’re going to do a rape scene, so I get up and move across the room and away from my door. I don’t want my neighbors to hear me fake-crying and saying “no” over and over.

“I’m going to come into your room in the middle of the night,” he continues, “and I’m going to get in bed with you. I’m going to try to convince you to sleep with me, but no matter what I say, you’re not going to give in. You’re a good conservative girl and you wouldn’t do anything like that, right? You’re not that kind of girl, ok.”

“Right, I gotcha.” I’m having a hard time hiding my exasperation, I get it, I’m a good Asian girl!

“Good. Let’s get started,” he says, brusquely, “Ok, so you wake up to feel me sliding into bed with you…”

“Bill! What are you doing?!”

“I just wanted to be close to you, and hold you, Grace…” He says quietly.

“NO! You can’t get in my bed! You have your own bed!”

“I know, but I want to share yours.”

“I’m not that kind of girl, Bill. You should go back into your room.” I’m trying to sound indignant and confused. At least the confusion is genuine.

“You’re so beautiful, Grace, and I have had a thing for you for a long time.”

“But, we’re friends!”

“I know, but I want to make love to you, Grace!”

“Bill, I’m not like that! You know I’m going to wait until I’m married for sex. We’re not married, we’re only friends!”

“UUUNNNNGGGHHHH! Ok, thank you, Grace.” He hangs up.

I just stare at my phone, confused…

***

“Hi, Charlotte. I have Ned on the phone, he wants 25, sweet and sexy.”

“Sarah it is!”

Ned is in India. He has a nice accent, and seems a little nervous. The majority of the guys from India don’t have phone sex with me. They just want to talk to me. Of those, a significant number spend most of their time quizzing me to figure out if I’m really who I say I am. It amazes me they’d waste their money in this way, but who am I to judge?

“I’m a 22 year old boy,” Ned explains, “I work a lot and I do not have many friends and no girlfriend.”

“Well, that’s too bad, Ned.”

“Yes. Tell me, what do you look like?” he says, suddenly.

I give him the general description, and he tells me that’s nice.

“What do you want to do today, Ned?” This is my newest phrase, it’s nicer than “can we cut to the goddamn chase already?!”

“I want you to be my friend, Sarah.”

“I’ll be your friend, Ned. How come you don’t have friends in India?”

“I don’t know. I went to school and then I work too much. I don’t have time and I don’t know where to meet nice girls.”

I hear many telephones ringing and lots of voices in the background. Ned is calling me from work! I wonder if he’s on his lunch break, or if it’s common for Indian Customer Service Reps to call phone whores in between clients.

“Are you at work, Ned?” I ask him.

“Have you ever been to India?” He asks me instead of answering my question.

“No, but I’d like to.”

“You should. You should come to India to see me, and you can be my friend.”

“That would be very nice!”

“Come then. Come to India!”

I realize he means like, tomorrow, and I tell him that I can’t come now. He tells me he’ll come to America and meet me. I laugh and tell him that would be nice.

“Tell me your phone number,” he says this like it’s a reasonable request.

“No, Ned. You can call this number and ask for me if you’d like to talk again.”

I wonder if any guy has ever gotten a phone whore’s real number. How gross would that be?

“You are lying! You do not want to be my friend,” he sputters, angrily.

“No, I’m not! I would like to talk to you again and get to know you.”

“Then you should give me your telephone number and we can talk like friends talk!” He’s demanding and petulant and I’m silently laughing at him.

“Well, you can call the same number you called today and ask to talk to me.”

“You will not remember me,” he utters, defeated.

“Of course I will remember you, Ned!” I assure him.

I have all your details and a synopsis of our conversation written in my notebook!

“You should find a new job. You should not do this job.”

“Why not?” Now I’m irritated. Ned is a pain in my ass. No wonder he doesn’t have friends…

“It’s not a good job. Is it a good job for you?”

How the fuck is this motherfucker –who called me– trying to be all righteous?!

“If I didn’t do this job, you wouldn’t have met me to be your friend,” he wants to step it up, I’ll step it up! The call’s almost over anyhow, I’ll get paid.

“Why do you do this job? Do you have family problems or something?”

Oh no he did not.

“Why did you call this number? Do you have family problems or something?”

Click.

What a day. And I’m only two calls in.

“Hey, Charlotte, I have a doozy for ya!” Mindy declares with unhidden glee.

“Oh no…”

“Yea, but you have to sound gruff, though. You kinda have a sweet voice. Can you do gruff?”

I clear my throat and furrow my brow. “Does this sound gruff?” Furrowing your brow helps with the gruffness, for serious!

“Yea! That’s it, that’s good, ok, now, he’s got a long list, are you ready?” She’s chuckling.

“Oh lord…”

“Yea, he wants 30, white, submissive and obedient. He wants you to be married, but unhappily married. He wants to be degrading to you, so you have to take it. He’s into legs, but like really muscular legs. Big calves, very well defined, indented with like dimples, you know?”

“Holy shit, for real?”

“Yea, and so, you have really big, well defined calves, and bulky thighs. And he wants you to have big ankles. Not like cankles, because your legs are muscular, but like, just big boney ankles…”

“What the fuck, Mindy?”

“I know! It’s the weather.” Mindy has a very thick Jersey accent, so it was more like, “It’s da weatha!” Which cracks my ass up, and she laughs along. “I’m sorry, honey…”

“It’s alright, I got this! Mary Anne’s got awesome legs!”

“Okay…connecting Mary Anne with Charlie for 30 minutes.” I hear her laughing as she signs off. Sometimes I wonder if she does this shit to me on purpose.

“Hi! This is Mary Anne, who’s this?” I forget to sound gruff. Fuck!

“Hi Mary Anne, this is Charlie. We’re going to do some role playing, so I have to make sure you’re up for it, OK?” He sounds like a regular guy. I see him as mid 40s, he’s wearing a blue baseball cap, somehow he sounds like a blue collar kind of guy. He’s brisk, and business like.

“I’m up for anything.” A little gruff, not enough brow furrow.

“Ok, so, you’re a 30 year old business manager, you run this office. And you have a gruff voice, where you sound bitchy, but you’re not really bitchy, it’s just how your voice sounds. You’re not happy in your marriage, and that may be where the bitchiness comes from. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” I say in the gruff voice.

“Ok, good. So, I’m going to call you up at work, and do like a survey, and you’re just going to answer with yes or no. You’re not to elaborate unless I ask you to, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“And you have to sound gruff, remember?”

Clear my throat! Furrow that brow!

“Yes, yes, I know.” I try to sound as manly as possible.

“OK, so, while I ask you questions, you might hear like some breathing and noises in the background, but just ignore that, all right?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, so, I call up…”

“Hello, this is Mary Anne.” I do my best I hate my job voice.

“Hi Mary Anne, this is Charlie. I wonder if I could have a few moments of your time to conduct an interview.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Well, I own a magazine, and we’re looking for leg models. We take pictures of your legs and you’d sell pantyhose and stockings. Maybe sometimes your bare legs, too. Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. Do you work out?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you do a lot of leg exercises?”

“Yes.”

“What do you do?”

“Squats, lunges, leg lifts, biking.”

“So, are your legs slightly muscular, muscular, or very muscular?”

“Very muscular.”

“Oh yea…muscle legs…yes, so good.” He’s whispering frantically, not speaking to me anymore, and I can barely hear him, just heavy breathing and the occasional random phrase. The phrase “slut legs” comes up more than once. After a bit, he composes himself.

“Would you say your legs are manly?”

“Yes.”

“Do you wear pants to hide them? Or mostly skirts?”

“I wear skirts all the time.”

“You do? You like to show them off?”

“Yes. I work out all the time, so I want to show off.”

“Oh yes…” More frantic whispers. “Yes, big legs….ugly man slut…” Then, to me: “What kind of shoes do you wear?”

“Heels all the time. The higher the better, to show off my calves.”

“What do your calves look like? Are they heart shaped? Or squared?”

“They’re big and squared…”

“Dimples?”

“Yes, dimples.”

He’s off and whispering again. Then: “Are you married?”

“Yes.”

“Happily?”

“No…”

“Why not?”

I’m quiet for a second, then I sigh. “The bastard is cheating on me.”

“He is? It’s because you’re an ugly man slut isn’t it? All the time in the gym making your legs all big turned you into an ugly man slut didn’t it?”

“Yes.” Wow.

“Describe your ankles to me.”

I stretch out my foot and look at my ankles. “Well, they’re very big and boney. As my calf muscles narrow my ankles protrude. On the inside of my leg, there’s a smaller rounded point, but the outside, it’s bigger, and pointier and sticks out more…”

“Oh yea….” Very frantic whispers. “Big slut ankles and legs…yea….you got the boney sticky outies!”

I just about lose my mind laughing, and have to press my hand over my mouth. He just whispers and pants faster and faster. I’m not even sure I heard him correctly until he says it again.

“Ugly man slut…yea! With the boney sticky outies! Big calves…fucking whore legs and ankles….UUUNNNGGGHH!”

I just sit and wait and try my damnedest not to laugh. He finally quiets down and says, “Ok, thank you Mary Anne, have a good day.” And hangs up.

When I say, “Hey baby. What do you wanna do today?”

And they say, “Whatever you wanna do…”

Really?

I always take a deep breath and a long pause so I can stop myself from telling him I want shove a 12 inch dildo up his ass while I pluck the hairs off his balls one at a time with a pair of tweezers.  In front of his mom.

8:15am
Get up, make coffee, feed cats, make breakfast, turn on Roseanne.

8:55am
Whore-phone rings. This better not take long, I think to myself. I’m not supposed to start until 9 and I have a piping hot breakfast plate in my hand. Grits clump up when they sit, you know.

“You have a 10 minute request for Mercedes from Kevin.”

Kevin was my first tranny lover!

It’s simple, straightforward tranny sex. We switch hit. Today I top, next call, I’ll bottom. Easy. We say goodbye seven minutes later.

I spend the next hour and a half Stumbling, and IMing people. I should do homework, but meh.

10:25am
“Mark wants 25, black, kinky, hot and horny for 10 minutes.”

Mark talks to me about his wife and how they’ve had threesomes with other women. I assume he wants me to have a threesome with them, but he wants to do a MMF threesome. I ask if he thought it would be hot to watch his wife get fucked by someone else. Turns out that he wants to be forced to suck a black dick. Surprise!

What is it with white guys and their obsession with black guys’ dicks? It’s ridiculous. Any time there’s any hint a guy wants to play with some other guy’s wang, I offer up a big, black dick and he’s practically drooling.

There’s only been one exception to this I’ve encountered. When I asked a guy who professed his love of dick slobbering if he’d ever had a black dick, he hesitated and said, “No, just regular ones.”

10:50 am
“Louis wants 20, white, and submissive. He called on the Anything Goes line and wants 30 minutes.”

Louis tells me his cock is pierced. Knowing a little something about body piercing, I ask what kind.

“A P.A. and a ladder.” A P.A. is a Prince Albert piercing. It goes in through your urethra, and comes out through your frenulum. A ladder is a series of horizontally placed barbells along the length of your cock, usually. You can also get a scrotal ladder, which is just what it sounds like. Or a guiche ladder which takes it along the underside of your balls and across your taint.

“Really?! How many rungs to your ladder?”

“5.”

“That’s so fucking hot.”

And it is.

Louis and I have standard issue porn sex: bj, cunnilingus, 69, vaginal, anal, facial.

11:18 am
“I have a request for Betty, for 10 minutes, from Luke. You spoke to him on…”

I flip back through my notebook to the first time we spoke. Luke has a tiny dick and he likes to be made fun of for it. It’s also funny looking, apparently. He told me the name of the condition afflicting his weiner. I didn’t write it down because I couldn’t understand what he was telling me, and I really didn’t expect him to call back. Last time we spoke, my girlfriends and I made fun of him and then he got gangbanged by a bunch of guys who were painting the house next door.

This time, my girlfriends and I are having a sex toy party, and he’s our product tester*. We try different dildos and plugs and whatnot out on him, while laughing at his teenie weenie. I tell him I can’t tell if he’s hard; it looks more like a giant clit than a penis. Then my friends’ boyfriends get there early to pick the girls up, so they all laugh at Luke, too. Then rape his face.

He thanks me and hangs up.

11:30am
“Mike’s on the line, he wants 35, white and slutty.”

Mike wants a standard porn scenario as well. Easy. I get him off in 7 minutes, which seems to be my average.

12 noon
“Wayne wants 32, white, sweet and sexy, hot and horny for 30 minutes.”

Wayne has an effeminate voice. He asks me what I’d do to him if I were there, so I start in on my blow job script, but I wonder what his deal really is. He makes his voice very soft and whispery, so I assume he’s not really looking for straight sex. I just play along because I know eventually the truth will come out. An easy way to speed up the truth telling is while I’m giving a “blow job” is to ask him if he likes his ass played with.

“That’s where it gets interesting,” he says.

“How so?”

He explains how he bought a dildo the other day, and he wants me to help him use it for the first time. He wonders if I think that’s odd.

I tell him my boyfriend likes getting his ass probed, too. I tell him our favorite thing to do is me riding reverse cowgirl while I plow his ass with my dildo. Wayne tells me this is beautiful and he wishes he could meet a girl like me someday. He says he’s always wanted a woman to fuck him with a strap-on. I tell him to start sliding his dildo in his ass while we talk. I tell him I’d give him instructions for fucking himself with it. I say that I’ll tell him what I’d do if I were there with him. He groans and tells me he’s got an inch in of his 7 inch dildo. I praise him and ask more questions.

He doesn’t want to suck a dick, necessarily, but said if I really wanted him to, he’d suck my boyfriend off while I rammed him with my strap-on. I tell him that’s not necessary. I only want to do what pleases him.

He updates me on his inches achieved, and when he gets to about 4, I tell him to start working it in and out, very shallowly, never taking it all the way out, and every time he works it back, to shove that dildo in a little deeper.

When it’s in all the way, I make him sit up and rock back and forth. He groans. He tells me he should have been a girl.

I tell him I thought he didn’t want to fuck guys. He assures me he doesn’t but he thinks he should have been a girl since he liked being filled up so.

I tell him he’d be a good lesbian. He agrees. I tell him to fuck his ass-pussy hard and fast with his dildo, like it’s my big rubber cock. He finishes, and tells me to have a great afternoon.

12:30pm
“I have Jose. He wants 40s, white housewife, chunky, so be like 200 pounds, ok, honey?”

I describe myself for Jose, and he tells me I look like his teachers and his step-mom. He tells me big girls are hot. He tells me that he thinks about fucking his step-mom after his dad is done with her. I ask him to tell me about it.

He says he installed a web cam in their room that broadcasts into his, and he watches them. I ask him if he’d want to lick her clean after his dad got done with her. He says most definitely. Then I ask if he’d like to fuck her at the same time as his dad. He groans, then whispers, “One old cock and one young one at the same time.”

I describe what it would look like if he double teamed his step-mom with his dad.

Hit my 7 minute average with this one, too.

1:00pm
“Charles wants 20, white, hot and horny.”

Charles tells me he’s with his girlfriend. They like to masturbate for each other, and sometimes they call up a phone girl to masturbate with them, too.

…like you do…

He says several times that he knows it’s kinda weird. I concur. You always tell the callers what they want to hear, even though, in the grand scheme of phone sexing, masturbating couples aren’t all that weird.

I ask him what his girlfriend looks like. He doesn’t really seem to know. “Short…like, dark kinda hair. And. Um, 5′5…are you 5′5?” A lot of guys call me pretending they’re with other people. That’s a lot weirder than masturbating together as far as I’m concerned.

He tells me he’s in a chair, and she’s on the bed in front of him. I ask him a bunch of questions about what she’s doing. He seems a little confused, so I tell him what I’m doing. Turns out, she’s doing that, too!

“I’m rubbing my clit in little circles…”

“She’s rubbing her clit, too. In little circles.”

“And I have my dildo.”

“Yea, she has one of those, too.”

He tells me she’s about to cum, so he’s going to lay next to her on the bed. There’s a brief silence and I hear the unmistakable sound of a porno in the background. “She’s cumming, you hear her?”

“I do, that’s so hot.”

Eventually he cums too, and we say our goodbyes.

What a dork.

1:45pm
“I have a request for Sarah from Darrell. You last spoke to him a week ago.”

Darrell calls on a fairly regular basis, generally about once a week, for 10 minutes. We play Daddy’s Little Girl. (I’m 18!)

It starts up immediately. As soon as I’m transferred, it’s “Hi, Daddy!”

Darrell likes to be rough with his little girl, so there’s spanking, and slapping titties and choking. And a constant chorus of “Fuck me, Daddy! Fuck me, Daddy!”

He’s usually done about the 7 minute mark, too, but we’ll chat for the last 3, which was so unbelievably odd the first time. As soon as it’s over and he’s caught his breath, he talks to me about regular stuff. He’s asked me about my classes and given me career advice. He tells me about what he does for work, once getting cut off as he described the ins and outs of how he got into his particular career field. I hear him walking around, putting stuff in the microwave. I find it difficult to have a normal conversation with someone I just called Daddy and asked to choke me with his dick. Apparently, it’s just me.

I sign off at the end of a normal, uneventful day: incest, trannies, and teen whores. And straight guys who want to suck dick.

*Thanks to Daniel for the dildo party scenario. It’s come in handy numerous times.

“Hey, Charlotte. I have a 30 minute request for Betty,” Mindy says through her yawn.

“Really?! From who?” That’s my Dominatrix character’s name. I can’t imagine who would request her, as she typically is fair at best.

“Ugh. I hate this fucking guy!” She says in disgust.

“Oh no. Who is it?!”

“Lil Tim-Tim…”

“Oh God,” I groan. Lil Tim-Tim is an adult baby. He’s five and in kindergarten, but sometimes he has accidents and I have to punish him by treating him like a baby.

“I swear, he’s so annoying.”

“To you?! How?”

“He doesn’t just talk to you in that voice! Everything he says is in the whiney fucking baby talk. I just want to scream at him to grow the fuck up already! What the hell?!”

“Last time he called me, I sang ‘This Little Piggy’ to him,” I tell her. She sounds like she’s going to fall off her chair, she’s laughing so hard. Then she tells the other receptionists what I said. They all laugh.

“Janice says you should sing ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’ since it’s Halloween.” Now it’s my turn to laugh. We just leave poor Lil Tim-Tim hanging and I find I don’t really care, since I’m not in the mood for his shenanigans.

Lil Tim-Tim was my first adult baby call, and I had no idea what to expect. Right off the bat, it was baby talk. No “formal” introductions, no explanation of what he wanted. The only indication of what he wanted came in the middle of a crying fit, when he said he didn’t want to wear a diaper as punishment for wetting the bed. I didn’t know if I was supposed to be a mean mother, or a doting one. I didn’t know if there was to be sex talk or not. So, I talked to him like he was really 5, and tried to pick up his hints. I guess it worked since he called back.

Mindy finally catches her breath and says, “Ok, connecting Betty with Lil Tim-Tim for 30 minutes.”

“Hi sweet baby!” I say brightly.

“Hi, Mommy.”

“How’s my Little Baby Tim-Tim?!” Baby talk, of course. “Were you a good boy today?” According to my notes, last time we spoke, I gave Tim-Tim a bubble bath and sang to him while I put baby lotion on his ‘widdo baby wegs.’ When he was naughty, I put him in a diaper and made him sleep in a crib.

“No…” he’s talking like a 5 year old, but his voice hitches like he’s crying. He actually does that thing little kids do, where they hold their breath while they whine, so it sounds like they’re dying. It is genuinely infuriating.

“No?! What do you mean ‘no?’”

“Teacher said I not ready for kindergarten…”

I interrupt him sharply. “I thought we talked about this, Timothy! You are 5 years old now, you can’t keep acting like a fucking baby!”

“I know Mommy,” he whimpers. “I sowwy, Mommy. I no like school.”

“So, you want to be a big baby forever? You want to wear diapers and sleep in your playpen and drink your dinner from a ba-ba?” I’m channeling every abusive mother you see on television. I yell and interrupt. I’ll snap from Nice Mom to Mean Mom in the blink of an eye. I should watch Mommy Dearest again.

I write “Mommy Dearest” in my notebook.

“No Mommy! I not a baby!” He’s wailing now.

“Then tell me: why the fuck would your teacher tell me you’re not ready for kindergarten?”

“I don’t know, Mommy….” He’s sobbing.

“God, I’m sick of your fucking baby crying. Go take off your clothes and get ready for your bath.”

“Yes, Mommy, I sowwy!”

“Stop your fucking sniveling and get in this tub.”

I’m quiet for a bit.

“I wash me, Mommy.”

“I know, sweetie. Wash your legs now.” I say in the quintessential mommy is tired voice.

“I wash legs, Mommy!”

“You did!” Now, I’m the happy Mommy, praising her baby. “Wash your toes, too!”

“Wash toes!”

“Yay!” I clap and laugh. “Tell Mommy why you don’t like school, Lil Tim-Tim.”

“I don’t know.” He starts making that crying sound.

“Don’t be sad, Tim-Tim. Mommy just wants to know how come you’re not happy at school. Is your teacher a mean lady?”

“No, she nice lady!”

“Do you think you’re not ready for kindergarten?” I’m concerned Mom, talking slowly and quietly.

No!” He starts crying again. “I not baby, I big boy!”

“So, you want to wear your big boy underpants and your Superman jammies?”

“Yea! Big boy jammies!”

“Ok, well, get out of the tub so Mommy can dry you off….Oof, wrap you in a big warm towel, come sit on Mommy’s lap until you’re all dry…I rock you and swish a towel in your hair…Was that a nice bath?”

“Uh huh! Nice baff, Mommy!”

“Good!” I make a big baby kissing noise. “MUAH! Now, let’s go get your jammies on!”

I describe his Superman Underoos and the two piece Superman pajama set. We talk about trick or treating.

“I no wanna trick or treat, Mommy!”

“Why not? Don’t you want yummy candy? Yummy in your tummy candy?!” I blow raspberries on my arm. We both laugh.

“I scared Mommy, I wanna be wiff yooooo!” He starts wailing again.

“Not trick or treat by yourself, you big silly! Mommy trick or treat, too!”

“Yay! Mommy trick or treat?”

“Yup, and you can be Superman! Who can Mommy be?”

“Super-mamma!”

“Yea, Super-mamma!” We laugh some more. I’m actually talking to him like I would any 5 year old and this creeps me out, greatly.

“Mommy? I have accident.”

“You what?!” I’m outraged Mom again.

“I have accident.”

“What is wrong with you?! I thought you said you were a big boy!”

“I am big boy!” He’s crying again.

“Goddamn, I’m sick of your fucking crying!” (I really am, too!) “Big boys don’t piss their pants! You just got out of the tub! Why didn’t you tell me you had to pee?”

“I no know.” He sounds miserable.

“Well, now you get a spanking.” I clap my hands together 5 times. “Five smacks so you remember you’re 5 years old! Now, go get a diaper and get back in the tub.”

“No diaper, Mommy!”

“Yes, diaper, Lil Tim-Tim, since you want to be a baby, I’m going to dress you like one.”

I give him another bubble bath. A mean one. Where I tell him to scrub his peepee weewee good or Mommy will do it for him.

“Lay down on the floor here on your blankie, Tim-Tim.” I say quietly.

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Mommy will put lotion on your baby skin, so it stays nice and baby soft, right?” Back to the sweet baby talk.

“Yea, soft!”

“That’s right, and put some nice powder on your butt and your weewee…Do you wanna squeeze the powder?”

I still have no idea if he’s turned on by any of this, if he’s masturbating. If I’m supposed to touch him inappropriately. I figure if I randomly talk about his weiner, and he wants it, he’ll hint at it.

“Yay! Squeeze da powder!”

“Are you Mommy’s baby?”

“Yes, I a baby.”

“What does Baby want to do?

“Sing songs, Mommy!”

“Mommy’s not a good singer…”

“Yea! Mommy sing pretty!”

“Ok, do you sing the Animal Fair song in school?”

“No…sing it Mommy!”

“I went to the Animal Fair…” I really am a terrible singer. Absolutely tone deaf. Poor Tim-Tim. “The birds and the bees were there! The big baboon by the light of the moon was combing his auburn hair!”

“Silly song, Mommy! More!”

“It’s not over, then it goes, ‘You ought to have seen the monk who jumped on the elephant’s trunk. The elephant sneezed and fell on his knees and that was the end of the monk the monk the monk the monk,’” and then I made random baby noises. “Ah buh buh buh, ahbuhbuhbuh…rub da baby belly!”

We laughed.

“Wanna go watch movies, Tim-Tim?”

“Yea, watch movies, Mommy!”

“Sit on Mommy’s lap in the rocking chair?”

“I hungee, Mommy.”

“Want Mommy’s milk in da tum tum?”

“Yea Mommy!”

“Ok, sit on my lap in the rocking chair, Mommy will feed you.”

“My tummy, Mommy.”

“Yea! Lookit the round belly! Yummy milk in the tummy. Show Mommy on your diaper where Big Bird is.”

“Big Biwd!”

“Yay Big Bird! Where’s Elmo?”

“Elmo!”

We clap and laugh. I hear the beep telling me we have 3 minutes left.

“I will rock you, Lil Tim-Tim, until you get all sweepy.”

“Sweepy, Mommy.”

“Yup. I see your little eyes are so heavy. Mommy is sleepy, too.”

“Sweepy, Mommy.”

“Yup. So, let’s go to sleep, Lil Tim-Tim and I will talk to you later when we wake up, Ok?”

“Ok, bye, Mommy.”

“Bye, Sweet Lil Baby Tim-Tim.”