Regular as cockwork...

Oh good grief, this regular won't stop calling me. He is always pretty drunk, so much so that sometimes he can hardly talk. He's a bit of a cockney wanker, so his slurred words are bridged by his weakly pronounced 'R's, and embraced by 'vers' instead of 'thers'.

His sense of the complimentary runs with 'good girl' (I'm a woman for Crissakes, a woman!) and 'right slut (well, I can't really complain about that one, it is a sex chat line after all).
He's got a bit of money, I know as he's been calling a while now and we've talked (or rather he has) about lifestyle etc and what he has done and does now.

Funny tho, he lives Oop North. I though all cockney's who made a bit of money moved out of the East End and went to live in Essex.

His calls are such low energy ones, and they can be hard to do, especially at 4.09am, as I start to zone out and think of more interesting stuff like the fluff in my belly button and whether there is a little creature in there who might yell 'HOO!' and let his civilisation be heard.

Still, a drunk cockney wanker droning on and on is all money in the bank, eh. God knows I need it right now.

I got rejected by the escort agency- they said I was too similar to two other girls in my area and being a small but elite agency, it's their policy not to hire girls that would be in direct competition with each other. Surely though, if they have two girls like me they have contradicted themselves? I didnt like to say so, tho. Nobody likes a smartarse.

I hope that was the real excuse and it isnt because I am an aging, ugly old hag. They did ask if they could keep my info for future vacancies, but were they just humouring me, I wonder?


So, I've had to look at other options.
Now this is a bummer as the original agency was close, and classy, and I felt I could trust them. Now I have to wade through speel from other agencies to try to determine which ones are going to be the most suitable.

I have discovered a 'Gents club' which is about an hour and a half's drive away. TBH it would probably suit me best for the present time. I want quick money the easiest way possible (but I do have certain standards, so it must decent and not some dingy cathouse with knock down prices.)


This cockney bloke is back on the line again- fourth time tonight. I can't even understand what he is saying. I'm hardly talking, just moaning and the occasional 'Oh God, yeah' to cover up the gentle sound of keyboard tapping.

I think it must be bedtime as this is a pretty unstructured, rambling post about nothing in particualr.

Sorry folks. Maybe I'll edit it tomorrow and add something interesting.

I do wonder though, do the callers ever hear me when I fart?

Stuff of Dreams...

I’ve decided I want to be rich. Really rich, not just well off or comfortable. I've always thought that would be best, but this last month for some reason I've changed my mind.

I mean, really rich. Rich enough to help the charities of my choice properly, for starters.
I’d put a million in the bank for each of them and let them have the interest.

Rich enough to help my friends (and believe it or not, some people who arent my friends. People I think deserve a break, even tho maybe I don't like them. I mean, just cos I don't like them, doesnt mean theyre not nice or good people, does it?)

I want to be rich enough to go on holiday whenever I want. To sun soaked places, hire a boat and have friends come along. I want to have salad on the terrace of a nice restaurant in Monaco, to visit health spas in Italy, spend time in Africa with the elephants at the David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust ,and with the Born Free Foundation.

I want to wake up in the morning at take the groom a cup of tea and some breakfast and have a horsey chat. I’ll ask her to get two horses ready so we can go for a lovely morning hack. Then if I feel like it, I’ll potter round the yard for the rest of the day and she can have the day off.
I’ve mucked out enough stables in my life to warrant taking it easy and letting someone else do the hard work for a change (for a fab wage of course, no meagre pay at my establishment. Good grooms are hard to find and should be paid extremely well)

I want to have lots of land and open it up for horse riding and walking. I want to have an sanctuary for farm animals that have had a hard life, or saved from one.

Then dinner at the local pub which of course does great food. They have no idea I’m a multi millionaire- it would spoil things- and off home to relax.

I want to buy decent clothes. Ones that last, not crap from cheap shops that fall apart or look tatty after a few washes & wears. I want to pay £50+ for a tee shirt, but know it will still be around and in one piece in twenty years, like a few good ones I still have from the good ol’ days when I had rich boyfriends.

I want a tennis court, a pool, and a home gym. An indoor school to ride in, with a great trainer who will help me understand the art of riding. I want to see shows in the west end and stay at a good hotel.

I want a nice car, a good horsebox and fridge full of healthy yummy food.

I want I want I want. Who doesn’t, eh?

Better get writing that bloody book then, hadn’t I! Cos I aint gonna make millions talking to these wankers.

...and finally

Well yet again it’s been a while. I really have to knuckle down and get into some serious writing of sorts. This is meant to be my daily warm up but I’m lucky if I get to write once a month.

All change tomorrow though! I’ve been making some big life decisions the past couple of months. I need to change a lot of stuff if I am to be anywhere near happy.
I want to be single again. So I will as soon as it is reasonable to do so. To go into the whys and why nots of not doing it immediately would be indiscreet. After all, you never know exactly who is reading.

I want to start ‘work’ again. We/I need money. This is the only way I know how to get us/me out of the total financial shit we are/I am in right now. In the short term that is.
Long term, I need to write. I must get cracking on the book. It’s all in my head and the first chapter is written down, I just need to find the motivation and determination to do it.

I need to get off my fat arse and get fit again. This is the last time I may have at having a decent body before the rot really sets in. I’m 43 now; if I leave it then I’ll be too old and wrinkly to look good. Healthy yes, but desirable? Hot? Hmm, I don’t want to be some young mans fantasy Granny Fanny thank you very much. I’m ok now, but need to firm up and get a tan!

Anyway, on to the blog.
I’ve not worked on the phones a lot lately. This last week I’ve had a cold, (don’t worry, I haven’t been oinking or had the urge to wallow in pools of mud) and before that I have been busy with a couple of other jobs I do. It’s hard to write about other stuff as I worry about revealing too much, so all I can say is I shall attempt to write more often about my work as a Phone Sex Operator or anything remotely connected to it. Or anything else. At all. Just because I feel like it.

Mission Impossible, it seems...

I can seem to copy and paste any post! Agh. This is just a test.

Gonna Have To Face It, I'm Addicted To Blog

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!

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.

The Dave Phenomenon explained?

Ah, hello.
At home at work. Just doing the usual. A lot of Dave’s again lately. How come this is the latest name being used as an alias? Is their choice influenced by Dave TV?
Are they secretly wanking off as they watch Jeremy Clarkson in the continuous back to back episodes of Top Gear? I suppose they are re-runs, so he is younger and slimmer, and we all know most men secretly like a bit of dick but just aren’t man enough to admit it.

Which reminds me, I heard a good joke the other day


Knock Knock
Who’s there?
Jeremy Clarkson
Fuck off!


Well, I thought it was funny.

Oh, oh, did I tell you about the strangest request I’ve had yet? Hmm, maybe I should keep it for the book eh.

* * *

Its a few days later now- I’ve had a lot to do lately and it’s interfered with my work. Things should settle down by this time next week so I can start writing properly and working hard again. I’m keen to get cracking and earn some decent pennies as well as continue with my book.
I’ve been rather slack with the book. So many ideas in my head all bumping into each other, mingling, sharing more tales. It’s like there’s a reunion party of whores and druggies in my head and they’re all getting out of it and not making any sense.
Bastards didn’t invite me!

Well, it’s late. I have lots to do tomorrow so I must get some sleep.
Oh- one more caller…

I’m on the phone as I type. This bloke is going on about his big, fat nipples.
Is that supposed to turn me on? Ugh.
Of course I’m telling him I love them.

Damn, - lost him. Turns out he wanted to be my transsexual bitch. He could have just said so at the beginning. Saved a lot of time and would have prevented my mind from running away with me and picturing a man with obscenely fat nipples, when in fact he just meant breasts.
Now I have to go to sleep and try not to dream about fat nipples.