Hi, I'm Genevieve. I work at a phone sex chatline. I monitor for "quality" and kick off people who are too dirty. Because there is a line. I enforce it.
Dirty people call in. Some aren't as dirty as others. These are their stories...
2001:October:5
"hey, I'm callin out of the 209 area code. I be that chocolate brutha you been lookin your whole life for. I just want to give you what you need, baby and make you happy so we can live life to the fullest, you know? and I'm, big, you know? So get back if you be that queen for this king, aiight? Peace ladies."
We stand now like strangers. Foreigners in each other's dark territories. No tranlators. No passports. Illegal and wild-eyed.
"Hey Ladies, single white male, good looking, well built, lookin for a nice girl to spend time with. Rage and ace not--heh, heh, I meant to say age and race not important. So you ladies, dont' be shy, hit a guy up. Late."
We say things like "i love you". Inaudible.
"Hey, this is Erica, thought I'd jump on line to see what's up. Thanks."
We reach out to see if the other is still there, can still feel. Removed.
"HI, Joe here. Good afternoon gals, don't have to go to work for awhile. Got some time on my hands. Got something else on my hands if you know what I'm talking about, anyone out there wanna chat?"
I tell you it's ok. That we can do this. You dont' understand. Blocked.
*moaning*,*silence* then *slapping*
Time to go home. And pretend to not hurt. I'm not about games. So, Peace out.
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