Shake it Up

When people first find out what it is I do for part of my meager living, there are the inevitable questions.

“Wait…does strumpeting mean what I think it means?

”No way! Do you make a lot money?”

”Do you ever get off?

Yes, it does. No, I don’t. And are you insane?

Here’s the thing about being a Phone Strumpet. It’s not sexy. Sure, it sounds wickedly titillating. Curled up in bed, writhing with glee as you enact a nasty little fantasy you wouldn’t even share with your best friend.

Which is all well and good. Until the person on the other end of the phone wants you to pee on them.

When folks, in general, think of phone sex, they think of one of two things. One:

Alternately:

Please note: Neither one of those pictures is of me.

A more accurate depiction is this:

I do all of my best Pinteresting and Tumbling while strumpeting. It’s not that I’m not paying attention to my little Princes, it’s that these calls can get extremely monotonous.

Oh, you want a blowjob, do you? Fantastic. I can look up 18 recipes for Sweet and Sour chicken while swirling, humming, and bobbing.

Oh, Mommy’s here, baby. Yeah, Mommy can’t wait to tell you what a naughty boy you’ve been. Meanwhile, Jenna Marbles is giving me a drunk makeup tutorial, and then I have to watch her pack a suitcase.

Your neighbor’s teenage daughter is wearing her bikini again? Well, she is a naughty, wicked girl. Tell me all about that sassy barely legal nymphet while I reblog pictures of hedgehogs and Benedict Cumberbatch.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned doing this job, it’s that men, like all creatures, truly cannot be generalized. I can’t say, “Men are so predictable.” The second I say that, my phone rings, and a “sexy male model” wants me to shrink him to the size of a fly, then step on him with my high heel.

But I can say that when it comes to their penis, men are exceptionally good at boring me to tears. I so rarely get a fantasy that actually makes me look up from 100 Uses For Those “Do Not Eat” Packets in Your Beef Jerky!. So far, I’ve had exactly two clients whose fantasies were so much fun, I looked forward to their next call.

The first has already been discussed, the gentleman who likes to be blackmailed into getting off. One of the few clients whose names I know for a good reason. Even though he could be labeled monotonous because he always wants to be blackmailed, he comes up with some delicious scenarios, and leaves me open to using whatever methods I need to convince him to a) have phone sex with me, b) date me again, or c) give me his credit card information. I actually get to use my brain for his calls, and I work hard to get him off properly. Could I possibly get off from the call? No. But it’s still the closest I’ve gotten to a thrill.

Then we have a new client, who we’ll call John Vackenzie. John started out slow. I was expecting a short call, basic. He started talking about his wife, who was on a trip with her boss. Sigh. A cuckold.

“Can you be her?”
::perk:: What was that?

And that’s where things got fun. Mr. Vackenzie wanted me to be his wife, in a hotel, with her boss, “on business”. And he wanted, essentially, to catch his wife having a bit of leisure with her boss.

I think he expected full out emphatic agreement, obvious, blatant. I may be an easy Strumpet, but I’m not that easy.

“Honey! I ::short of breath::…didn’t expect you to call so soon! I’m…::quiet moan::…working right now. Can we talk later?”

He went nuts. And that egged me on further. I took long, luxurious pauses between words, moving myself about to rustle my clothing and pulling myself slightly away from the phone. Whispering words like, “There….” And “Oh, no….oh…”, then coming back to him and asking, wasn’t it awfully late, and shouldn’t he be getting some sleep?

As the time ran down, and presumably Mrs. Vackenzie got even more riled up, it became a shade more blatant. Low moans became a bit louder, and when he protested, I had no idea what he was talking about. When he wanted me to repeat what I’d said, which was, “Oh, no, not there…oh, no, I…ohhhhhhhh…” I told him he was being paranoid.

Then I moaned quite loudly, and he hung up.

Did it get me off? No. But I was grinning for quite some time after this call. And it’s now on my mental rolodex for those clients who say the dreaded, “I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

“Mmm, you know what my favorite fantasy is? So…are you married?”