The Unicorn List

I’m starting to sound a bit like a broken record when it comes to talking about the Strumpet life.

Everything is very much the same, day in and day out. There’s few surprises anymore. And considering the kind of freaks who call the lines, that’s not really a positive thing. But at this point, almost four years into the game, it’s not shocking anymore.

I had a gentleman who wanted middle aged and dumb yesterday. This gave me pause, needless to say. I’ve had many a client tell me how fucking classy I am because I use big words with them (I assume that’s anything other than, “Oooh baby yeah big daddy”), but never any complaint that I’m just too damn intellectual.

Of course, then the gent got on the phone, and I completely understood why he would need someone with the IQ of a fifth grader. And he got mad at me for not talking enough. Sorry, dear, having to limit my vocabulary tends to limit my tongue.

There is a very short list of clients I would like to have some day. It varies, of course. One of them being, where are the men who want to feed their whores? I know this exists. But dammit. Every time I sit down with my breakfast/lunch/dinner, the phone rings, and by the time I’m done, the food is cold. Where are the clients who want to hear me eat? I will chow down on bacon just for you, baby. It’s all for you.

Hell, I miss the extremely old and confused client who loved to hear me smoke cigarettes. If I’ve gone too long without a call, I know all I have to do is step outside, light a cigarette, and away we go!

Also, I want a furry. I want a furry very much. Ever since that episode of CSI where furries were featured, I’ve been fascinated by this culture. It seems…odd, truth be told, to dress up in heavy costume to get your rocks off, but it’s something I have no understanding of. So while I now have a comprehensive understanding of men who want to fornicate with their maternal figures, I still can’t figure out why someone wants to get off with a giant squirrel.

Today, one of my items got bumped off the list. And I reacted like my dispatcher had just told me Collin Farrell was on the other line.

“I have a call for Bunny. It’s a woman.”

I’ve had women on my line twice, but never as the caller. One was a man who wanted me to tell him what to do with his girlfriend. I questioned heavily whether the female voice in the background was actually a girlfriend, or a porn movie. She didn’t really speak, only some moaning, which didn’t…really fit with where we were in our conversation. But maybe he was just doing a really good job.

The other was completely weird. It was very early in my Strumpeting, before I’d garnered enough experience to realize I should roll with this and see just how badly it could turn out. A client was on the phone when his alleged daughter-in-law came to the house. He started talking about what he wanted to do with her, and asked my permission to do so.

She didn’t sound unwilling, more eye-rolling than anything, as though this happens all the time, and she’s used to it. I don’t recall where the gentleman lives, but I suspect backwoods bumpkin action was in play. I was gobsmacked, and didn’t quite know where to take the call. It was a decent call, but I could’ve stretched it out more if I’d played along.

Today, I got my first, bona fide female client. And I squealed like a woman. My dispatcher was certain she had broken me, because I couldn’t stop giggling (yes, giggling) with glee.

I’ve wondered since the beginning if we got female clients. I’ve been told we do, but I’d never had one, so I assumed they didn’t want the mature sounding voice. (No mommy fucking daughters?) This one wanted late 20’s, early 30’s, which I can easily handle (just a little more upturn to the tone, since I actually am early 30’s). She also bought a small time frame, so I was disappointed I wasn’t going to get to really appreciate my lone female client.

She was adorable. Wanted to play with a woman, never had. She asked for a talker, but she did most of the work, I just went along for the ride. It was very quick, but brand spankin’ new. And I was left absolutely thrilled to finally knock off one of my Unicorn Clients.


BRING ON THE FURRIES.

Suit up!

I thought it only appropriate that after a few months off from the blog, I perform a Christmas miracle, and write an update. Happiest of whatever holiday you choose, from the Strumpet and her brood.

A dear friend called me to tell me I had slacked off on Strumpet updates. We’ll call her A, since she’s a preacher’s daughter. As a fallen former Catholic school girl, I feel the need for discretion here.

Things have been fairly status quo as of late. Same ol’ same ol’, though the Mommy Fuckers have finally upped their game, and have come out of the wood work.

Today, for example, my first and last call were complete polar opposites. First we had a 21-year old, who barely wanted to give me his name, he was so ready for his cock in my mouth. As I quietly giggled at Yon Casanova’s romancing skills (“Yeah, Mommy, bend over for me. Take this dick.”), I remembered why women tend to go for older men.

Then we had the 90-year old. Now, personally, if you’re still cranking it up at 90 years old, more power to you. Whether single through widowhood, divorce, or general skeeviness, if you’re still getting it up enough to call multiple phone strumpets a day, you deserve some respect. It’s very rad. I do wish you would buy a new hearing aid. Or at least replace the battery in the one you have.

I think my neighbors would appreciate it if you would, as well. I live in a heavily rented area, and I do warn new neighbors they may hear interesting sounds on occasion, but I don’t think anyone expects to hear screams of, “Yes. Please. Just squeeze it. Okay. OKAY. YES, THAT FEELS VERY NICE. VERY. NICE. YES.”

But said elderly gentleman leads me to a discussion of another type of client. Because he is an extremely respectful guy. Asked me up front what terminology I was most comfortable with, including asking for permission to use the word (gasp) “cunt”. He told the dispatcher straight up he wanted someone who likes to “make love”.

Yes, we have clients who want to make lurve.

I like to refer to this group as the Suitors. They call strumpets not just to get off, but to court us. Some guys call pitching tent, these guys call pitching woo.

Now, I love these guys. They tend not to be cheap fucks. They sign up for a good sized block of time up front, which means I can finesse them a shade. These guys genuinely want to get to know their strumpet, learn what makes us tick. Sexually, of course. Rarely do I get to discuss anything else.

Though early on, I did have a fantastic conversation with a client about late 80’s/early 90’s punk. It set me up for three years of disappointment in conversation skills with the gents.

Suitors are also great because they do the majority of the talking. They know exactly what they want to do to a woman, from the tips of her pedicured toes to the soft caresses of her hair. They just want soft moans of encouragement from their paramours, the soft, sweet gentle sounds of lurve making.

One disadvantage to the strumpet game is, we are not allowed to receive gifts. I know self-made strumpets who have received gifts, and some companies had it set it up to where ladies could be sent items from Amazon wishlists and the like. I don’t know if this still happens, and I can understand why my particular company frowns on it. Would you want one of these people gaining access to your home address?

Yes, sit with that a moment. I’ll wait.

However, I had one submissive suitor desperately begging me to let him buy me things. His loophole around the company rule was that he would give me his credit card number, and I could buy myself anything I wanted, as long as it made me happy.

I did poke around at my dispatcher and my boss, both of whom were decidedly clear on the NO front. Still. A diamond tiara would sure come in handy on some of these calls.

If ever I am feeling down about myself for even a moment, I need only to speak to a suitor. I am told how loved I am ad naseum. I have the most beautiful voice they’ve ever heard, which obviously means I am a beautiful person, with a beautiful soul.

A caller who requested a 30-year old spent the entire call throwing endearments at me. I was his “little sweetie”. His “baby girl”. His “sweet girl”. He “threw” me a kiss, complete with “mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah”s. And referred to my nethers as my “sweet little vagina.”

Okay, so he was more creeper than suitor, but you see the pattern here.

Others spend inordinate amounts of time describing how they would kiss me. In front of a fire. On a rug. In a cabin. While softly caressing my face. And dancing with me.

By the time he wanted to touch me anywhere below the waist, we had to run the credit card again.

Woo me, gents. Woo away.

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: