Ring .“Hello?”
“Kristi?”
“Yes, this is Kristi.”
“Hi, this is Stu. Can I ask you a question?”
“Hi, Stu! Sure, go ahead.”
“Do you do calls with stupid men?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said, do you do calls with stupid men?”
“Um, yeah, sure, I guess.”
“Well great. So how much would a 30-minute call cost?”
“I…well…It’s $1.99 a minute, so a 30-minute call would be about 60 dollars.”
“Okay, great. Do you have a speakerphone?”
“Um, well, no. No, I don’t.”
“Well, that might be okay. What I’m trying to do – and I have a few more people to check out before I decide who I want to do this with – is I want to do a 30-minute call and I want the girl to put me on speakerphone, or I guess, just put the phone down, for the whole time, so that the person with me will just hear the background noise for half an hour, and know that I’m being ripped off.
“I see,” I said, and paused. “Umm, do you mind if I ask…why exactly do you want to do this?”
“I want to convince my fiancée that I’m really stupid.”
•
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MEMO |
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To: |
All Operators |
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From: |
Trisha |
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Re: |
Alan T. |
For those of you who have been continually annoyed by a Mr. Alan T., I don’t think he will be bothering you again. I was able to track down his home number and I had a nice talk with his wife today. It sounds like he has done this to other phone services before.
She was not too happy with him and suggested that I havehim locked up for harassment. I said that I would do so if the calls didn’t stop, and she offered to pass along that message to him for us.
•
Curiosity
Every once in awhile we get e-mail from the company warning us about kids using their parents’ credit card. I suppose that does happen, and when the parents get the bill and don’t recognize the charge, they call and ask. What a surprise to find that little Johnny has been calling for phone sex!
Now, I get a lot of people who call and hang up, and I suspect that plenty of them are kids calling on a dare. On the other hand, I’m sure many are guys trying to get up the courage to talk to me, so I don’t really get upset. I remember what it was like to be scared, and I’ve certainly chickened out and hung up some adult vendors in my life.
Sometimes the hang-ups are really annoying, though. First of all, I have a toll-free number, so every time someone calls and hangs up, I have to pay for it. Second, business can get slow at times, and there are nights that I stay home to work and the phone doesn’t ring for six hours straight. When on those nights the phone finally rings at midnight and it’s a hang-up, well, that can be irritating.
One night around 7:00 p.m., just as I was making dinner, the phone rang. I don’t usually pick up when I’m cooking or eating, because it makes me feel rushed, but the weekend had been very slow.
“Hello?”
“H’llo,” said a kid’s voice. Damn, I thought, wrong number.
“Hello?” I repeated.
“H’llo.”
This was going nowhere. But it wasn’t a wrong number or he’d have asked for someone by now.
“Who’s this?” I inquired.
“Mark,” he said. This was definitely a kid. He sounded about 12 or 13.
“Mark, how old are you?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” I said sharply, and hung up.
After a moment I felt badly about this. Sure, I was 99 percent positive that Mark was a curious kid, but what if I was wrong? What if it was just a really shy adult with a young-sounding voice? I might have just hung up on a client.
The phone rang again. According to the caller ID, it was the same person.
“Hello?”
“H’llo.”
The same voice. Okay, I thought. Get more definite information before you hang up.
“Who’s this?” Cheerful.
He paused a little too long before answering.
“Andy.”
Whoever this was, kid or not, he was pretty dumb. He’d only called five minutes before.
“Andy, do you have a credit card?”
“No.”
“Well then I can’t talk to you. That’s all I do.”
“Don’t you do sex?”
I lost my patience. By then I was positive it was a kid, and even if it wasn’t, he didn’t have a credit card anyway.
“Andy, you’re underage and you don’t have a credit card. Don’t call me again.” And I hung up.
I jumped online and sent a “kid alert” to the other girls with the number that came up on caller ID. No sense in them bothering to pick up the phone.
I went back to making dinner. The phone rang while I was putting a dish in the oven and by the time I got there it had stopped. I checked the caller ID. Guess who?
Now I was pissed. Can’t take a hint, this kid. I took the phone back into the kitchen with me, and when it rang again a minute or so later, I was ready.
“Hello?”
“H’llo.” No sign that we’d done this before.
“Who is this?” I demanded.
“Well Robert, have you ever heard of caller ID?”
“Yes.”
“Do you realize that means I have your phone number?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you keep calling me?” I snapped.
“Sorry.”
I slammed the phone down. He didn’t sound surprised or afraid, so I didn’t think I’d deterred him. I wasn’t sure he believed I really had caller ID, but I knew what would prove it to him.
I dialed his number, wondering if I’d get his mother. (“Hello, ma’am, do you have a son? Are you aware that he’s calling an adult phone line?”)
“H’llo.”
I didn’t say hello.
“Do you know who this is?” I asked sharply.
Silence.
“Um…”
“Are you going to call me again?”
“No, no!”
“Good.”
And I hung up. He didn’t call back after that.
•
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MEMO |
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To: |
All Operators |
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From: |
Trisha |
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Re: |
Joey G. |
NO CALLS for this man. We usually bill him, but he wrote me to say that his arm is sore and he wouldn’t be writing checks this week, even though he owes us more than five hundred dollars.
I told him that if he can’t write a check then he can’t stroke his cock. If he calls you, feel free to tell him that Trisha says he needs to rest his arm.
•
Instant Message from Kristi
Kristi: ACK! This guy just said: “i am on house arrest and needsomeone to speak with intimately.”
Rachel: Hmmm, literate.
Kristi: But he decided not to call because he knows the picture isn’t me.
Rachel: Oh, did he now?
Kristi: Yes. Picky, picky.
Rachel: Literate AND perceptive….
Kristi: And under house arrest.
Rachel: Oh yeah. And a criminal. I forgot that part.
Kristi: His decision may have had something to do with the fact that I asked him if he had a credit card.
•
Loser of the Year
This story really belongs to Trisha, but I’ve got to share it. Sometimes it’s hard to believe what some people will do to try to get their rocks off for free.
She had a call from a Mr. Keith B., who wanted to use his checking account to pay for a call. Unfortunately his bank’s automated information line said that his account didn’t exist. So he said he’d call his branch to see what was going on, and five minutes later he called Trisha back with, “The bank says the account is fine.”
She rolled her eyes and explained that it didn’t matter what the bank said to him– they had to say it to her. He said he’d have someone from the bank call her back.
She was on another call for a while, and when she finished, her caller ID showed that someone from Mr. B’s area code had tried to call several times from a pay phone. She thought it was too much of a coincidence, so she re-dialed the pay phone. Much to her surprise, someone answered. But it was a bar, so she hung up.
About an hour later, about 6:30 p.m., the phone rang. Same pay phone, same bar. The guy introduced himself as “Norman Mailer from Citibank,” and explained that he was calling to confirm an account for Mr. Keith B.
“Oh, really? Tell me, Mr. Mailer, do you always call back to verify accounts from bars?” she inquired.
He stuttered a bit and said, “What?”
She said, “I was just wondering if you return all your calls from The Purple Palace.”
She thought he would give up at that point, but no! He then told her that he just stopped off at the bar on his way home to use the pay phone.
She said, “Some customer service you have there, Mr. Mailer, since you’ve been trying to call me from there for over an hour.”
Mr. Mailer got pretty quiet when she said, “Now listen to me. Is this Mr. B. such a good friend that you would risk going to jail for fraud? Mr. Mailer, I’d better not hear from you or your pathetic little friend again or I will press charges.” And she hung up.
When Trisha recounted the story to us, she added that she almost called Mr. B. back and offered him a free call. He sure worked hard enough at getting one.
•
Man Seeks Creative, Unique Phone Sex Provider
I’m a 52-year-old male who will be a regular caller for the right phone sex girl. I’m looking for someone creative and imaginative who likes role-play and can make each call unique and fun. Have tried many but found few who fit the bill.
Well, I’m creative and imaginative, so I wrote him and pointed him to Kristi’s page. He wrote back immediately and was very enthusiastic. He likes to set up fantasies by e-mail, he said, so that when he calls he can get right into it.
Now, this is technically cheating. By giving me all the information in e-mail he’s avoiding being charged for the time he’d have to explain it to me over the phone. But I know what it’s like to be more comfortable writing down a fantasy than saying it out loud, and if he really was interested in becoming a steady client, reading his e-mail fantasy would be a worthwhile investment.
We arranged a time to talk, and he sent me his fantasy. The beginning of the story was true, he wrote, but he wanted it to end his way.
When he was 15, his mother’s friend, Lena, asked him to feedand walk the family dog while they were away for the summer. She was probably in her early 30s and very attractive – she’d been a fantasy object of his for years.
The first time he went to their home, he realized that he could do whatever he wanted, and being a typical horny teenager, he went straight for the bedroom and her lingerie drawer. Just touching her bras and panties was heaven, but nothing compared with what he found next – some Polaroid pictures of Lena wearing the same lingerie, and some of her nude. Every day that summer he spread them out on the bed and jerked off, fantasizing about fucking Lena.
The day they came back, Lena gave him a big hug, and kissed him on the lips, thanking him for dog sitting. He couldn’t resist putting his arms around her, and he was sure she could feel his erection pressing against her thigh.
Just then his mother’s car turned into the driveway and Lena pulled away quickly. After that he fantasized about her almost non-stop, but nothing ever happened.
He wanted me to be Lena, but a different Lena – one who caught him masturbating in her bed and seduced him, showing him exactly what to do. He said he wanted to be overwhelmed sweetly, with Lena in complete control. I should keep in mind, he noted, that in the fantasy he’s a 15-year-old virgin.
I found it to be a charming fantasy, and I looked forward to the call. He called once to give me his credit card information, and then a second time, 15 minutes later, to play. He really wanted to start the fantasy right from the beginning of the conversation, and that was fine with me.
From my perspective, this felt like the beginning of a great client relationship. Here was someone creative who was a good enough writer to convey his fantasies clearly, and who was looking for a regular partner. He was the perfect phone sex caller.
Or so I thought. The call lasted seven minutes. Somehow I thought that a person so into fantasy would be a 20- or 30-minute caller. Also, he wasn’t the least bit interested in actually enacting the fantasy he wrote. He didn’t want to be led. Instead he was obnoxiously demanding on the phone. “Take off your bra,” heordered. “Now! Hurry up! Tell me to touch your breasts.”
I tried to maintain the Lena persona but it was very difficult. At one point, exasperated, I said, “I thought you were a virgin! You said you wanted me to teach you!”
“Yeah,” he said, “but now that I know you want me, I’m not scared anymore. I’ll do whatever I want.”
If I’d really been Lena I’d have punched him and walked out. As it was I spent the entire call feeling like I’d been invited out for a stroll, but ended up being yanked quickly down the street on a leash.
I could see why he had trouble finding a regular phone sex girl. All in all it was a big waste of effort.
•
Ice Cream Sundae
Ring .”Hello?”
“Hey.”
“Hi, this is Kristi!”
Silence.
“Who’s this?” I asked cheerfully. Sometimes they get up the courage to call and then get tongue-tied.
“Ummm… what?”
“What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Umm, it’s Bill.”
“Hi Bill!” (I’m so friendly! See how friendly I am? See how much fun I’d be to talk to?)
“Uh, hi.”
“Did you want to do a call, or do you have a question?”
“I… uh… uh… what?”
More slowly this time: “Did you want to do a call… or do you have a question?”
“I… uh… uh… a call, yeah. Hey, what’s your name?”
“I’m Kristi.”
“Oh yeah, right, yeah, yeah, a call.”
He gave me all his information, which surprised me. He didn’t feel like a real caller. He felt like a hang-up kind of guy. But no, he had his credit card number and expiration date allready. Even more surprisingly, the card was approved. I picked the phone up again.
“Bill?”
Silence.
“Bill? Hello?”
He was gone. Great. I knew it.
I was just trying to decide whether or not to run the card for a ten-minute call (because it actually costs money to get the authorization) when the phone rang again.
It was him, I could tell by the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
Pause. (He hung up on me, he can do the work this time.)
“Hey, it’s Billy.”
“Hi Billy. Thought I lost you there.”
“Naw, I….” he trailed off.
“Well everything is all set.”
“Uh, what?”
“With your credit card.”
Pause.
“Everything is all set with your credit card. We can talk now.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Aw-RIGHT!”
Well, at least he sounded enthusiastic. I began my spiel.
“So, tell me….”
He interrupted me. “You’re an ice cream SUNDAE.”
“Oh, I…”
“Fuck yeah. An ice cream sundae and I’m gonna lick you clean.”
It’s hard to describe his inflections. Think Sean Penn in Fast Times at Ridgemont High (Hey, dude…let’s party!). Think Keanu Reeves in Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure.
I tried to get into it.
“Ooh, I like that. So you’re gonna cover me with ice cream?”
“I’m… gonna…fuck yeah! Cover you with ice cream, yeah!”
“Oooh,” I purred. “That sounds great. What kind of ice cream?”
“Uh… I’m gonna… I’m… huh, what?”
Slowly again. “What… kind…. of ice cream?”
“Shit, I don’t know what kind of ice cream, man. Breyers, if you want.”
I rolled my eyes and forced myself to coo. “No, honey, I meant, like, vanilla or…”
“Fuck yeah, van-ill-a, man. Vanilla ice cream all over your pussy.”
“Ohhh, I…”
“And I’m gonna eat it, yeah!”
“That’s sounds wonder….”
“Hey, what’s your name?”
Count to ten. “I’m Kristi.”
“Oh yeah, Kristi, yeah yeah!”
I tried to get my bearings.
“You’re a hot fudge sundae, man!”
So I’ve heard.
“That’s Amer ican, you know? Hot fudge sundae!”
I had nothing to say here, so I “mmmm’d.”
“Hey, man, you’re pretty.”
I started to thank him, but he wasn’t listening.
“Fuck you are! You got guys want to fuck you all the time, don’t you?”
“Well I…”
“Yeah you do! Yeah! Why not? Yeah! And I’m gonna pour hot fudge all over…like.. .all over… you… and… like…hot fudge… all over your ass… your a-nus!”
I tried again to play.
“Ohhh, I like that, sweetie. And you’ll lick…”
“All over….like…you know….like…fuck yeah….hot fudge in your a-nus..ice cream…and hot fudge…shit yeah….”
“Mmmm, I’d love you to pour hot fudge all over my ass…”
“In your ass!! Inside! Inside!” he corrected hysterically.
“Yeah, inside, yes,” I agreed.
“Fuck yeah! You’re made of glass, baby!”
“I’m made of glass?”
“Yeah you are! You’re a hot fudge sundae!”
“Umm… so why am I made of glass?” (I don’t even know why I bothered to ask.)
“Hey, what’s your name?”
10, 9, 8…
“I’m Kristi.”
“Yeah, Kristi. How you spell that?”
7, 6, 5, 4…
“K-R-I-S-T-I.”
“Oh right.Yeah ! What’s your phone number?”
Oh man.
“You called me, sweetie. You have my phone number.”
“Give it to me again, baby!”
I forced a giggle, trying to stay playful. I was not giving this man my phone number again. If he lost it, it was fine by me. I had my eye on the clock. I couldn’t really hang up before ten minutes, because I was going to charge him for ten, the minimum.
“Aww, you called me twice. You already have it.”
“What’s your number?”
Eight and a half minutes. Close enough. I murmured something unintelligible, and hung up. He didn’t call back.
I guess he didn’t have my number.