This is how the conversation went about eight or so years ago.
Me; I’ve thought of another website (I’m always coming up with ideas for websites, inventions, or storylines for films that I‘ll never write)
Him; (without a flicker of genuine interest) Yeah?
Me; On line diaries. People can log on anonymously and write personal stuff for the world to read.
Him; It will never catch on…
Well it did, and I didn’t. In fact, I completely forgot I suggested it until a few days ago when I found it written down in one of my old diaries. Forgotten so much so, that I am a latecomer to blogging itself. I’ve clicked on a few links before, but they were mainly of nothing that really grabbed my attention and roused my curiosity. Until someone gave me a link to Belle de Jour.
I’m almost ashamed to say I never heard of her until the series came out, but that’s what happens when you leave a life of a certain type behind. No one I know now, apart from my close family, know of my previous life as a whore, so no one is likely to make the connection that I would be interested in such a blog.
Anyway, I digress, as they say.
From Belles blog, and her links to other blogs, and their links to other blogs, and links from those blogs to other blogs, and so on, I am hooked.
Good innit!
Its fascinating to read about what happened in someone else’s day. We get to laugh at a conversation that otherwise we would never have been privy to, we get to wonder about how a complete strangers second date is going that evening as we do the washing up, and we get to give suggest to someone where exactly in the miniature doll of their horrid boss to stick that sharp pin.
I think I’m becoming a blogaddict!
Thursday 27 November 2008
Wednesday 19 November 2008
I'm Baking A Cake In The Shape Of A Penis...
Not very regular lately, in my updates, am I?
Tonight, here I sit, on the couch with my laptop, headset on, waiting for the calls to come in. They are, but few and far between tonight. I need to change my intros. I have quite a few regulars, but I expect they are getting sick of hearing the same old shit every night.
But how to set the scene, I wonder?
The key is to be inventive, but honest, I think. None of this ‘I’m wearing high heels and stockings’ shit. They know I’m not sitting at home dressed up for them, waiting patiently for their call. I do, however, talk about wearing S&S, what I like to wear when I go out. (If I was to go out, which I hardly ever do, but I don‘t admit to that- oh no, I often attend sex parties don‘t you know)
Maybe I should say I’m doing the ironing, or baking, something homely. Baking in an apron and nothing else? Laying my boobs, one at a time, into the scales to measure the weight instead of the bra size? Oops, now they’re all covered in flour, you’ll have to dust it off for me as my hands are doughy…
Or I could be hovering, and get up to unspeakable things with the hoover- with it switched off of course. I wouldn’t want to give myself a DIY hysterectomy or anything. Besides, how am I supposed to hear the pleasurable moans of the caller if I have the hoover on, eh? That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it, although, if I opt for that one, I better leave the hoover out, because there’s always some smartarse that wants me to prove I really am doing what I say, then gets snotty if I cant or wont prove it.
Now- that I don’t get. The callers who ask me a question, then say ‘I don’t believe you’ each time I answer.
Well what’s the bloody point then? If you don’t just go with the flow and get into the fantasy of phone sex, then why call? I think sometimes the callers really do forget they have called a hotline and are paying £1.50 a minute to talk to me.
Most of the time I don’t care, but it is quite irritating, trying to play a scene, and the other participant keeps jumping out of character, so to speak. It’s hard to do a good job. Yeah, I try appeasing them, and wooing them into playing the game, but sometimes I just lay it on the line and say ‘look, if you’re not going to believe me, when I tell you I’m playing with myself/got long blonde hair and big boobs/am on all fours… then would you like to speak to another girl?’. Mostly that makes the caller fall into line with what is required and play along. And you know what, I laugh quietly to myself as I sit there in my leggings, sloppy tee shirt and old slippers, faking sex noises.
Does that make me a bad person? I say no.
Tonight, here I sit, on the couch with my laptop, headset on, waiting for the calls to come in. They are, but few and far between tonight. I need to change my intros. I have quite a few regulars, but I expect they are getting sick of hearing the same old shit every night.
But how to set the scene, I wonder?
The key is to be inventive, but honest, I think. None of this ‘I’m wearing high heels and stockings’ shit. They know I’m not sitting at home dressed up for them, waiting patiently for their call. I do, however, talk about wearing S&S, what I like to wear when I go out. (If I was to go out, which I hardly ever do, but I don‘t admit to that- oh no, I often attend sex parties don‘t you know)
Maybe I should say I’m doing the ironing, or baking, something homely. Baking in an apron and nothing else? Laying my boobs, one at a time, into the scales to measure the weight instead of the bra size? Oops, now they’re all covered in flour, you’ll have to dust it off for me as my hands are doughy…
Or I could be hovering, and get up to unspeakable things with the hoover- with it switched off of course. I wouldn’t want to give myself a DIY hysterectomy or anything. Besides, how am I supposed to hear the pleasurable moans of the caller if I have the hoover on, eh? That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it, although, if I opt for that one, I better leave the hoover out, because there’s always some smartarse that wants me to prove I really am doing what I say, then gets snotty if I cant or wont prove it.
Now- that I don’t get. The callers who ask me a question, then say ‘I don’t believe you’ each time I answer.
Well what’s the bloody point then? If you don’t just go with the flow and get into the fantasy of phone sex, then why call? I think sometimes the callers really do forget they have called a hotline and are paying £1.50 a minute to talk to me.
Most of the time I don’t care, but it is quite irritating, trying to play a scene, and the other participant keeps jumping out of character, so to speak. It’s hard to do a good job. Yeah, I try appeasing them, and wooing them into playing the game, but sometimes I just lay it on the line and say ‘look, if you’re not going to believe me, when I tell you I’m playing with myself/got long blonde hair and big boobs/am on all fours… then would you like to speak to another girl?’. Mostly that makes the caller fall into line with what is required and play along. And you know what, I laugh quietly to myself as I sit there in my leggings, sloppy tee shirt and old slippers, faking sex noises.
Does that make me a bad person? I say no.
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