Hey Momma Bear, Don't read this post

It’s about midnight and I’m dispatching and it blows. I’ve had a few calls, all of them hang ups. Is the economy suffering so bad that the pervs aren’t even spending money getting their rocks off? This industry usually doesn’t fall off; maybe it is the company I’m working for. I have thought of moving on but, this company guarantees me a specific pittance. Be it ever so small, it does pay for my meds. I really shouldn’t complain because today my skanks actually got me some calls. They were repeat customers so, that was nice. One of them is just fascinated by my job and asks me all kinds of questions about it. Turns out he is a sociology major doing research. I’m down with that. I’ll tell him anything he wants to know except my real name.  He is always looking for a story. He wants to hear about my most depraved calls. I think he does get off on it, but whatever, he’s paying me. Today I had a good story for him. The call before him was a guy that thought I looked like his little sister (one of my characters! I don’t use my own pics. That’s a whole other story I will tell later.) and he just totally wants to do his sister. You cringe but it is a very common theme. People are into some fucked up things.

The company I work for is a no taboo company. That means that no matter how fucked up a customer request is you are supposed to roll with it. I can handle that. It’s not me after all; it is one of my characters. It is easy to stay detached. You just have to play a roll. I have five characters. The owner of the company just picks chicks from his collection and assigns them too you. I assure you that he scraped the bottom of the barrel when he scratched up my lot. They are a motley bunch. They range from Cherish the barely legal to Ava the hot grandma.  You may laugh but Ava does well with the younger guys. One of my girls, Brittney, gets most of the action because that’s who I tell people I am when I’m dispatching. They are hearing a sexy voice and not thinking about what Brittney looks like. They like the voice, they request a call, and they get hooked. It’s as simple as that. Truth be told, Britt looks like she is on meth. She’s got that look in her eye. She’s pasty and skinny and her pigtails are a stringy mess. I don’t know why I picked her as my dispatching persona. She’s totally trashy.  All my “ladies” are. I use that term loosely. They are a bunch of dirty mouthed bitches.

See, I will talk about anything. I will get dirty to the point of leaving a guy speechless and hopefully breathless. I get paid to deliver mind blowing fantasies. The quicker the better. I strive for the five minute quickie.  They have paid me up front so I might as well get it over with as soon as possible. I have to regulate that though because I get paid according to the block of time they have bought. The more time, the more money. So, I have to play with them a little bit so that they will buy longer blocks of time. I alternate between super quickies and long, slow, filthy seductions. I hate the seduction. It is too arduous. I’d rather just put the pedal to the metal and rock and roll!

PLOT TWIST!

Mike just got called out on a trouble ticket. I am pleased to see my most favorite person ever. He works too hard. That’s why I do what I do. I do the best I can and phone sex seems to be just that, the best I can do right now. I couldn’t even score the job at the liquor store for $9.00 an hour. A lot of good my fucking bachelor’s degree is doing me. I graduated with a 3.9 average after taking full time classes while working fulltime and commuting an hour each way. I know! Yay, me!  I rocked a very intense program like it was child’s play and it does nothing for me. I’m either over qualified or under qualified. There are no jobs in the middle down here.

So, I have become a house wife of sorts. I am a domestic fucking goddess! I have recently gotten a bug up my as about the house looking nice. I cleaned the fuck out of this place this afternoon and it still looks like gypsies live here. The once pristine floor is totally trashed again. It is every night. It comes to night fall and we let the critters inside and the place gets tore up. We have four dogs. Two are rather large pitbull puppies. They are a terror team. They come skidding sideways looking to eat and you are damned if you are in their way. They are like hockey players; bump and run. Tomorrow morning I will have a repeat of this morning. I will once again sweep and mop the floor after I throw the hoodlums outside. Then I’m going to detail my man’s chopper. It’s a bit of a Frankenstein, but it is starting to come together. That is after I bake my man chocolate chip cheesecake brownies. See, domestic Goddess!