An Acting Lesson

An acting lesson from your friendly neighborhood Phone Strumpet.

I'm pretty open minded when it comes to sex. With a few notable exceptions, I'm willing to try anything once. Twice if I think I did it wrong the first time.

But even I can be surprised by people's kinks. Yet, I'm not allowed to be surprised. When the dispatcher rings me, and says, "We have John Doe, and he wants you to fuck him up the ass with a lightbulb" (haven't gotten that yet, but I'm waiting for it), I have to sound like I genuinely believe it is the sexiest thing in the world and I have just been WAITING for his phone call, because nothing could possibly turn me on more.

It's easy enough to do when they want your average dirty talk. I have called myself a dirty whore more in the last week than I have in my entire life. This is a situation where it's a really good thing I'm not trying to do this face to face, because I can't say it with a straight face. Go figure.

But I have a gentleman who is testing my ability to not laugh on the phone. In fact, I did laugh, but luckily, it was mid-emphatic agreement, and I managed to work it in there.

Shoe/foot fetish. It's not my thing, and I have never been with someone who has had one. I myself have a shoe fetish, but it's of the "I Must Own Every Pair Ever Made and In Every Color" variety. I don't actually get off from seeing shoes. However, heels are very sexy. I think every woman looks sexy in a good pair of shoes, the higher the better. Stripper shoes, kitten heel, slingback, stilleto. They're all good. (Oh, exception. Ballerina flats? Not sexy)

So, when my client, who will be referred to as John Singer (he is a frequent flier, so he might be referred to in future entries), mentioned shoes, I figured, "Mmmkay. Shoe/foot fetish."

The first call lasted a little over 20 minutes. I hung up the phone, and fell over, laughing so hard I snorted. In the process, I drove the boot I'd been using as a prop into my side, both hurting me and making me laugh harder.

Mr Singer has a specific person he's fantasizing about. This is common, so I've found. The only rape fantasy I've gotten so far (1 minute 20 seconds) was quite obviously done with someone in mind. But Mr. Singer had the details ready, down to the type of reading glasses his lady was wearing.

I learned to improvise quickly with this one. He would reference something that I am obviously not going to know (Hi! You're not actually talking to your fantasy woman), and I had to figure out a sexy way to say, "Uh. What? Ohhh, so that's why my shoes were damp when I came back in the office. Fabulous. Oh, that thing hidden in my desk drawer? What thing would that be? Oh, that thing. Sure, I'll strap that on for you."

But see, all of that I can handle. It was what he wanted me to do with my heels that is a little weird for me.

I have accidentally knocked guys in the balls before. I may not have them, but I've seen the pain, and the tears. I'm quite certain it's a horribly unpleasant experience. So why exactly would one want a woman to stand on their balls in a pair of high heels? That just seems TERRIBLY unpleasant.

The first time he called, he wanted to hear the heels clacking on the floor. I'd been trying on a pair of boots at the time, so I clip-clopped them on the floor, forcing back the laughter the entire time.

This time, he caught on that I wasn't actually wearing them. So I put them on, and started walking back and forth in my living room. And, of course, I had to slam my foot down repeatedly, to simulate the noise of his balls being trampled underneath my heel. I'm scuffing my floors all to hell.

I could go into more detail, but I think you get the general idea of the acting skills required here.

One last thing. The real tried and true test of my ability not to laugh? The farther into the call we get, he actually starts to sing/rap about what it is he's wanking off to. Using my name. Over and over again. The first time he did it, I yanked the microphone on my headset up and away, and covered my mouth to try to muffle the noise.

And then he actually got my name wrong, and started singing to some random phone strumpet. And that was when I slipped.