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By *eonBlue OP Man
over a year ago
Oakham |
I used to work in the Sex Industry.
No, not that part of it... Not yet at least.
I was paid to sit on the end of a phone and talk to people. I was a Chat Line Operator.
Paid by the hour, to sit and talk.
I didn't set out to be a “Paid Sex Worker”, I was young, I had rent to cover and it started out as a job oddly enough doing something a world apart from sexy...
Ironically starting out as a Tarot Card reader.
However the company I started working for also ran Sex Chat Lines, mostly centred around Female Staff catering to Male Chat Callers (Or 2 minute wankers as the Girls and Ladies working the lines often called customers.)
Most people imagine these places are comfortable offices, where the person on the end of the phone sits in a private office or secluded cubicle. Totally not the case. Think a long line or several lines of desks, with a plastic chair, a phone on the desk and not much space between each Operator in a bare room. Couldn't be more far from the visions of nubile Ladies sat in Lingerie toying themselves endlessly for Male or Female pleasures and perversions with a massive range of Vibrators and dildos. No stocking clad size 8 women walking past sumptuously aroused and ready to please your every whim and taste. Something I admit I was disappointed by as that'd have been awesome to see on a daily basis given my tastes and the fact I am a very randy guy...
No privacy and certainly not a great place to work. Often spending hours on a phone talking to a stranger who doesn't have any interest in actually having a Tarot reading but just wanting to talk to someone. The things they want to talk about usually heart rending or mundane. “My husbands dying of Cancer, will his pain end soon? Will I meet someone after and be loved again?” “Is my girlfriend cheating on me, she didn't give me a kiss goodbye this morning when she went to work...” Will I win the lottery this week as my debts are crushing me and making me feel suicidal!”
So many of the calls were about money concerns, and the irony of calling a Premium Rate phone line that charged (at the time which is many years ago) 36 pence per minute off peak or 48 Pence per minute during peak times, you couldn't make it up, seriously. They'd spend hours talking to you and would have probably spoken to someone else or several other people already that week and would continue to do so till they eventually got their phone cut off after running up a bill in the Hundreds if not Thousands of Pounds area.
Everything and anything poured out from this endless list of callers who wanted to put some faith in the occult without investing actual belief, so they could unload, download, let go or have a total stranger just absolve their fears or worries, or just listen to them as they were constantly ignored day in and day out by everyone, or at least that is how they felt.
My shifts after my trial period eventually ran from 10pm at night through till when the calls ran out and it got quiet. If you couldn't land a call that was going to last you a few hours you'd end up having to go home early and that was a taxi ride home and dented your wages, so you bust your arse to get a call and hold onto it if you could to ensure you made it through the night to make life easy and get public transport home when it started running; which at the time for me was about 8am. So some nights you'd end up leaving at 4am, others running through till late morning or even the afternoon if you got on a few good calls.
10 hour shifts though was what I looked at putting in as a minimum 5 times a week, and most nights even when I first started I would fight to make that “Need to cross” line. The nights I didn't, I'd just hang out in the office till the buses started running as I wasn't making great money initially and the distance to get home and the cost of a Taxi was prohibitive. So I'd crash out on a desk and sleep for an hour or so, or spend time talking to other Operators who had hit a slow night or those waiting for regular callers to ring in.
Regular callers were Gold, they would only call up and speak to you, and usually stayed on the phone for hours once they got hold of you. This was where you earned your money and your wages really started to rise. You just had to get one, and work hard to keep them, not an easy task.
It was a performance based rate of pay, by the hour. The longer the calls you had or kept the better your hourly rate of pay got. Initially not so much pressure as basic wage was enough to cover my then rent and few other expenses I had, but later on the demand to perform increased once you got established and spent time working for the company. They obviously watched their bottom line and Operators who were not bringing in higher money were leaned on to improve or to perhaps move on.
So turning random callers into regulars was the key, and getting several regulars and lining them up in time slot windows was the best answer to ensuring you made you call quota. This earned much higher rates of pay and oddly; more importantly stopped yourself having lulls between regular calls and having to take random calls which might end in 10 minutes and utterly fuck up all your hard work that night, week and even month as it screwed with your call length averages. One bad night in a month could utterly screw the pooch and take you from a great wage to an average one and leave you crushed.
You were not by law allowed to take a call longer than 2 hours, that was the maximum length allowed, they could call right back and start a new call, and again take it to 2 hours but at 2 hours you had to terminate the call. So essentially 4 or 5 Two hour long conversations with Regulars was the Holy Grail, you got maximum call length and in doing so you hit the top pay band for your hourly rate. It would also be an easier shift than fielding random calls where you really couldn't predict what you would get or end up with and your call lengths would be all over the place. Even highly skilled Operators could crash and burn inside of 3 minutes with random calls. Especially as some callers are just ringing up d*unk and are only ever going to stay on for a minute or two to throw abuse at you then hang up to amuse themselves.
Consider that for a moment though, having the appeal and ability to talk to someone for 2 hours at a time, and several people over the period of a 10 hour shift. Having to be a social chameleon, say the right thing at the right time, be polite, charming, debonair , discreet, funny, intelligent, emotive, emotional, empathetic and insightful. To complete strangers... Get inside their heads and deliver what they are paying for and based on only what they tell you and trust me, they are reserved as hell and want you to pluck pertinent and prescient things out of the air like it's on tap. Demanding high accuracy based on tight lipped replies and minimal answers till you form some trust or catch their attention.
It's at this point I should perhaps mention. I was only 18 at the time, yes; 18 years young. Limited life experience, not much in the way of a vast bag of social skills or developed skill sets. Naive beyond belief in many ways and this was all very new. It was also very scary and very serious as the roof over my head hinged on making enough money to cover the rent, then of course pay for transport to commute, food and what was left over to clothe and give me money to attempt having a social life.
No parental support on offer as I had been estranged from my parents since 16.
Luckily for me I was a Night Owl, I'd rather be up at night time than around during the day, so the job, the hours and lifestyle suited me, which was a huge plus.
It took a few weeks working on the lines to find my feet. Never once having touched Tarot cards or even entertaining the notion of being a “Fortune Teller”, hell my experience and views of Astrology and such was restricted to laughing at the Horoscopes in the daily papers or on TV. You were issued with a set of “Training Cards” when you started, these had an idiot's guide written on them giving you keywords as to what each Tarot Card meant, and after a 20 minute to half hour “Training session” on how to give a “Tarot Reading” they set you loose on the phones and you started taking calls. Talk about in at the deep end, it was trial by fire. Your first Month was usually done during the Day time, so enough Supervisors were around to support you if needed and some of the Long term Operators were about to give you a hand or give you tips during lull times. Day times were much quieter though with regards volumes of callers ringing in, so they kept it to a bare minimum for the call volume to make it cost effective.
I like a challenge, so it called to me and I jumped in with both feet. Trying to be sincere and making callers want to stay on the line, but it was difficult. Not enough confidence and knowing it came out in my voice. As soon as a mistake was made knowing the shaky foundation I might have managed to build was now ash beneath my feet and soon enough the “Click” that ended the call was coming. Where as more experienced Operators could back track a mistake or cover over it with fluff or bullshit to make the obvious mistake seem like it wasn't. I didn't have those skills or abilities yet, didn't know enough and certainly didn't have the wealth or range of bullshit at my disposal. It was a huge learning curve, but one I enjoyed. Pulling 20 minutes of waffle and bullshit out of thin air is not as easy as it sounds, making it entertaining or interesting is even harder. Let alone making it feel like value for money is being given as the person on the other end of the phone is aware they are paying for the call and to listen to “The Voice” on the other end of the phone.
Time spent between calls was used discussing tactics and picking up hints from other Operators. Applying what I was told or heard on the next call. Wangling an extra Minute here or there to build up my calls till I was hitting the minimum requirement of a 20 minute call average. Dip below 20 minutes on a regular basis and your job was in jeopardy after your trial period was over.
Gleaning tips and wisdom from other workers was key to survival, listening to their calls, their vocal patter essential, study, learn, practice. All to survive.
The girls working on the opposite line of desks from mine had a different deal, they were taking Sex Calls, so had no pressure of a 20 Minute average, their calls were usually guys calling up on the edge or an orgasm so if they got 4 minutes before they heard his grunt and swear words down the phone it was considered a decent call. They spent most of their shifts with their heads down on the desk, phone close to their mouths and trying to focus on what was happening and block out all the other noise and distraction, but also ensure what they were saying couldn't be heard by other workers or callers, let alone by someone across a small space discussing a recent bereavement in the family or some other life changing scenario where the moans of a woman faking multiple orgasms was not going to sit well. These Ladies worked hard for their money and as stated already, were not what you expected. They were not all stunning beauties, dressed to thrill and nubile nymphs as far as the eye could see, some were Grannies and close to retirement, others middle aged mums doing what they had to do to make rent like me. Then there were the girls close to my age, just earning money to go out at the weekend with their friends and buy stuff to make them happy.
Hearing some of the conversations they had with the guys on the other end of the phone was often amusing. Talking to some of the Female Chat Operators was enlightening in some odd ways. It was a whole other world and so alien to what I knew, so was entrancing and exciting. Thrilling and arousing...
The First Chat Call...
I was fast approaching the end of my first month, it'd been difficult to get my calls up above 20 minutes averages but was fast closing in on securing it. A few good calls had lifted my numbers and gaining confidence and learning certain passed on tips and tricks from other Operators had made life a little easier. I'd been complimented by a few callers about how much they had enjoyed talking to me, and would ask for me if they rang up again. This did my ego and confidence the world of good and made me knuckle down to try and get more positive feedback.
I'd spoken to a few of the other Male Operators, and they'd hinted that sometimes you'd get a female caller that didn't want “A Reading”, being naive I had to press to find out what they meant. They laughed at me and explained in a manner that was condescending and patronising, I was a kid in their eyes, so they treated me like one. They were all very Macho in their view of themselves, each an Alpha Male and having to talk to a Cub, so exuded that tone and demeanour like dripping information to another Male was beneath them and not worth their time. It eventually got relayed that some of the guys would take one of the rare calls that came in where a Female caller requested a “Male” specifically, and usually the Supervisor could read if that meant for a Male to give a card reading or if one was available for a Sex Chat call.
They were rare, but not unheard of. & more importantly they tended to last more than a few minutes unlike a Male Chat Caller could hold off for. It wasn't discussed much or even acknowledged openly. Once in a while a Supervisor would walk down the lines of desk and go to a Male Operator and whisper in his ear, he would nod, and either end his call or pass it over to someone else, or after it finished he'd stand up and move down the line of desks to a phone that was left on it and take the call. Some of the guys I spoke to bragged they would get sent “Presents” from their Female callers, and often would encourage callers to gift them things or chase for these presents. It was a source of pride and ego to these guys when they got handed a letter or little parcel when you came on shift. It all had to go through a P.O Box system, so no real life details about you or addresses were to be exchanged with Callers. This was a big rule and not to be broken.
I heard these Male Operators brag about their calls, like they were conquests, in that stereotypical Male misogynist tone which sickened me and made me detest them as it wasn't my view or something I liked having to witness or hear.
One of the few guys who worked at the company that I did get on with told me sometimes a Tarot call might just evolve into a Chat call. He said this was how he had made his regular caller list up. He said that was the best way to do it, not by taking on a call requesting one like the other guys would pounce at.
& that is where it all began for me, sat on the line, middle of a day shift and the whole world and in some ways my whole life ahead of me was about to change and some things would never be the same...
The last few days of my trial month came around and I was sat in the middle of a line of other Operators. Women either side of me, and maybe one or two other men working the shift. The ratio of Male to Female Operators was stacked heavily towards the Females. Only ever myself and perhaps 2 or 3 other Males in the building. I didn't mind, I kind of enjoyed being surrounded by Females.
I got a call from a Lady from London, Lynn was her name...
I guessed she was middle aged and eventually she told me early 40's.
I'll be upfront and honest, her voice stoked my fire from the minute I heard her speak. She just had a pitch and tone that was pleasing to my ears, so I set out to keep her on the phone as long as possible just to keep hearing her speak.
I went through the usual patter of telling her slowly, carefully and deliberately about the price of the calls as this was a legal requirement. Waffled on a little about which Tarot card deck I was using for her reading, which spread I would use to do the reading, chucking in a little sprinkling of random details about the artwork, their meaning to me and why I used them; while smattering a dose of good old fashioned bullshit on top about how “The Gift” of reading Tarot ran through my family for generations.
*checks little digital display on the phone on my desk
Current Call length – 7m 30secs.
Not bad, nearly half way towards the required 20 minutes and not a single question asked/answered yet and not even “Shuffled the cards” to start the reading. I had a positive feeling about the call already, this felt like “Easy money”.
No point going into details about the reading cos she never got one, as I told her I was about to start shuffling the cards I asked her to “Clear your mind and think about the questions you'd like answering or what subject you'd like the reading to focus on!” Something I'd stolen from one of the other Operators as it sounded good and often led the caller to actually tell you what you wanted to hear, so you knew what they wanted to talk about. It's all about cold reading, harder when no visual clues are on offer, but still a viable option if you knew the right triggers, questions, or phrases to lure it out of someone even if they were being guarded. All just a case of building up a big enough arsenal of them and knowing when to throw them into the call and picking up on the response.
She simply replied that she was “Struggling to do that” after a minute of near silence while I was shuffling the cards.
I asked why, and she came right out and told me that my voice was distracting her...
Now, remember, a moment ago above, I mentioned, I was just turned 18. Fairly naïve and yes, still wet behind the ears with respects the larger world of women, seduction, sex and mind fuckery. I'd not long ago lost my virginity so my sexual experience with women was seriously limited to messing about with Teenage girls and the whole minefield of disappointment that usually entailed. & at this point I don't even think the term “Cougar” had been phrased, let alone passed my ears. Women “Hitting on me” was as alien as waking up and finding a Duck billed Platypus in my boxer shorts that could talk and juggle.
I was a random voice on the end of the phone and she tells me my voice is distracting her?
I wasn't playing coy when I asked her what she meant, I wasn't trying to socially engineer the conversation to drift from Tarot cards and fortune telling, I asked because I didn't get what she meant.
When she told me that she found it very sexy I actually blushed, and I mean I went Crimson at my desk. Furtive glances around me to either side to ensure no one could see me turning this deep shade of Red were undertaken. Everyone was involved in their own calls or doing their job walking the lines of desk, no notice being given to me.
My mouth went dry, and I stammered for a second before thanking her for the compliment. Totally unsure what else to say as this was indeed new territory for me. Life thus far with regards women (Well girls really) had all been about complimenting them, albeit often poorly and without success.
She laughed and her laughter was like music, it had a heady quality to it and was genuine yet had a little hint of mischief in it. Telling me I was welcome, she thought she should say so in case it distracted her into not saying much. Especially as I was no doubt about to speak to her at great length and in case her answers were delayed or perhaps a little nonsensical. She further went on to tell me how sometimes she'd hear a voice that she'd get lost in and start daydreaming about as it washed over her, more so if it touched certain places...
Yes, I asked the question, who in that situation wouldn't ask?
“Touch you where?” I asked...
She played coy now, drew me in, avoiding the question with a nervous giggle, she knew she had a fish on the other end of the line and rather than yank hard on the rod, she played the line out a little and opened up the playing area rather than snap the line.
I didn't know the rules to this game, I was fairly shy and unsure of the ground I stood on. However, I rallied my head and realised I was at work, this was what I was paid to do and while doing so I might as well make my call last and if I could have fun doing so, fuck it, might as well, right?
Once that notion had bubbled up in my head I also realised, this wasn't a woman in a bar or a club I was trying to chat up. This wasn't face to face, I didn't need to worry about being “Blown out” in front of all my friends or a mass of random people watching. My paranoia about such things was intense and overwhelming at this early point in my life. This was so far away from that situation, so why not step up and be a Man and move on something that was obviously being thrown in my direction. Take the bulls by the horns and see if I could make her blush as she just made me do.
I took a huge swallow of the Coffee sat on my desk, licked my lips and prepared myself to step right out of my comfort zone and see how far I could take this...
I told her that her voice had been distracting me from the minute she said hello and when she had told me her name I'd bit my lip. The deafening silence on the other end of the phone lasted a long time, of course, as is usual in this situation; it felt like an eternity.
She eventually replied that I was being silly and trying to flatter her, I of course rebutted her claim and said I wasn't lying, I had no need to do so. Then going out on a limb told her that her voice was by far the nicest I had heard while working on the lines. It was true, I was being genuine and she picked that out from my voice. Just because I had only worked there a few weeks and hadn't had any other woman flirt with me, well those things didn't need to be mentioned, did they?
She asked me if I was being serious, I told her I was. I described how I liked how it was soft and sensual and stroked my ear, and all to subtle gasps and I could almost hear her bite her lip. This did nothing but encourage me to keep going, so I started chaining words together into sentences, lowered my voice a little so my co-workers next to me didn't hear and one line after another kept pushing and listening to see if the gasps or breath intakes got longer, closer or more pronounced...
This lasted all of about 2 minutes before I was spent...
I ran out of compliments, things I could tell her and unable to make up more as I just didn't have the resources or experience to do so, let alone have it hit the target I wanted it to do. My limited vocabulary plundered and exhausted and not even before the first fence!!!
FUCK! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuuck.....!
A very uncomfortable silence fell on the line, I really did not know how to proceed, what could I say to get that heated moment back and running on course again???
I'd taken the initiative and lead and wasn't able to Tango more than a few steps before falling flat on my arse and feeling like a complete idiot.
She came to my rescue with a long deep intake of breath and told me that was very sweet of me to say and had made her blush, thanked me and asked me where about I was from. I told her and we started chatting about that, where she lived in London and the conversation slowly re-established, but had steered away from the flirty nature so briefly hit upon. I was still cursing inside my head.
The conversation though had a nice pace to it, and felt easy, each allowing the other to speak and to listen as and when the conversation swung.
I looked at the phone display...
Current Call length – 37m 45secs.
Holy shit, where had the time gone? None of the chat had been important or deep, yet the time had flown by to rack up to nearly 40 Minutes? Not so much as a single Tarot card turned over...
The easy flow of the chat and her voice so softly in my ear was arousing me, each time she laughed at something I'd said or she'd mentioned made a certain place, itch, twitch or that little shiver of electric course across or through it. I'd catch a little moment in her breathing or a sigh when I said something, I knew the potential was still in the air to take this elsewhere, just totally unsure how, what did I have to say or do to get her there?
An Hour came and went and still the flow was easy and full of laughter. I was however wondering how long she was going to sit and just chat trivial stuff? I took a gamble and asked eventually why she had called...
The big risk...
She took a deep breath and then a long pause. Proceeding to tell me that she's split up with her boyfriend a while back. Was in that place now where she felt the need to perhaps find someone as she was over the heartbreak he had caused her. I didn't press for any details, I figured like most callers she had something she wanted to vent or release, find closure over and that airing it with a stranger was worth the price of a call. So I listened, but I took note of the details, each and every one.
The ex boyfriend had been a bit of an idiot, constantly being sleazy and often as not hitting on her friends or being overtly suggestive with other women, always flirting and not giving her his full attention. She left a certain air over this part, like something wasn't being said, just yet. Like a drift of fog clouded over it, but a breeze might blow it away and reveal it, I again let it go and run it's course. She mentioned how he had constantly fixated on her best friend, and the attention was unwelcome and made her and her friend feel very uncomfortable, again something here caught my ear and I felt the pull of it but again, let it slide for now. Many of these feelings or senses coming from nowhere, but listening to her voice, the inflection, tone and speed was throwing clues out to me and enough of them were registering to form questions for later when I knew the time would come I had to dissect what she said and show I had listened and considered what she said. My ear was getting tuned into her and my brain was locking on to key phrases and the way she breathed or skipped for a moment.
None of what she had to say was overtly painful or depressing, just another idiot guy trying his luck on as many women as possible in case one was daft enough to take his advances as genuine and something other than playing the odds and betting on any and all numbers. All so he could perhaps notch up another score on his card and get some “strange tail” behind his girlfriends back. A pattern of behaviour I also abhorred, while I admit part of my younger-self was jealous of guys like this that managed to pull it off and get away with it I didn't like the behavioural pattern of it nor the wake of women it left lay in the destructive trail; who would go on to mistrust men and be another broken Lady. I'd been brought up to be an Alpha Male, raised to lead the pack, dominate and be the big man. It never sat well with me though and made me feel like a stranger to myself more often than not. So often when hearing another tale of this ilk my contempt would spill out, and it often led me firmly to being placed unwillingly into the “Friends zone” with women I wanted to be with, much to my constant annoyance...
When she had finally come to the end of the sorry tale, she took a deep breath and stated how much better she felt for just having it said out loud. Thanked me for listening and stated she could tell I had listened to every word. I told her that I had and how she is obviously now in a better place and with more understanding that her worth was so much more than she had been shown.
I then pointed out it was a shame such a nice Lady had been wasted on such an idiot, which made her laugh, pointing out I didn't know her at all, but it was kind of me to say and very flattering. Again, a little tinkle in her voice made my ears prick up...
I decided to start probing a little about the parts of her tale that had made them do so earlier, and the first point I raised was how her voice had caught a little bit when she had mentioned that her ex's full attention had not been focussed on her.
Silence descended again...
I could almost hear her brain ticking over at a much higher speed, it felt like she was making a big decision or preparing to take a risk.
What followed knocked me for 6 and quickly made things get interesting...
She almost blurted it out when she had decided to say something. Grabbing control of herself and it just before the words fell over her lips, which I knew were wet, as I heard her tongue slide over them just before she did so.
The single word said with care, she'd selected it carefully and I'm pretty sure it was loaded to set the conversation one way and only one way.
“Sexually...” She said, smoothly but with some serious lubricious, libidinous, inflection.
“Oh!” Was all I could muster in response. Pitiful right? A door like that thrown wide open and all I could manage was two letters and an exclamation point.
Luckily the quick intake of breath I'd taken right after was taken as a pregnant pause, so I quickly tried to gather myself and press at least one foot forward to get closer to the threshold.
All I could manage to pull out of thin air was to ask, “In what way Lynn?”
Jackpot...
It was the first time I'd called her by her name, and what ever it did it was big.
I heard the little moan of what I took as pleasure stream from her wet lips as soon as I'd said it. The gasp that came first making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“I've been aching to hear you say my name since the moment you first spoke!” she rasped huskily. “It's been well worth the wait I must say...”
Not falling for my earlier mistake again, I left the lead to be taken up by her instead of pressing forward without enough weapons in the arsenal to go beyond a few steps.
I asked her quite firmly and left little wiggle room for her to evade. “Why is that Lynn?”
Again, the gasp and little moan, no doubting the pleasure in it this time, none at all. Nor that she licked her lips as again it was heard...
“I was wondering how much it would turn me on hearing you say it” was the reply.
Still sticking to the plan not to take the lead I simply stated in a now even lower voice and pitched so it came out as confident as I could muster but directed for her ear alone... “Did it...?”
“Oh fuck yes it did, it has...” This being the first time I'd heard her swear, which sent a flag flying up the pole and made it clear something had been breached...
“I've been sat here now for all this time with my knickers getting wetter and wetter listening to your sexy voice and imaging what you could make me do with that voice alone, but you saying my name has just made me soak them...!”
The Look from across the desk...
Now, I have to again point out, I was 18, very little sexual experience and never heard a woman speak like this before directly yo me and because of what I had either said or done. So to say I got instantly hard and I mean fully erect in a split second. No joke, no hyperbole and certainly no laughing matter. This situation caused Trouser Tent issues of the seriously obvious kind.
All while at work.
I was wearing light coloured trousers, so there was some “Give” in them. Even still it was; if a pair of eyes ventured in that direction easily visible. This was in the days when I wore underwear and the loose cotton boxers I had on were not containing anything or suppressing what lay beneath. I was just thanking my lucky stars I was sat down and I “scooched” my arse as far back into the chair as I could to invert my groin to reduce the forward pressing action and obvious nature of what was going on downstairs...
This for me is a waking nightmare, reminiscent of the utter dread of being back in school and the wind blowing in the wrong direction and teen hormones raging up to award you with a full on boner mid class and then the teacher calls you out to the front of the class to read something to the class. Same nightmare, a few years later and now in the workplace? Instead of classmates sniggering and pointing at the guy sporting “Wood” in class, it's people I work with and people that pay me to work... Could this get any worse?
It could and it did...
To make matters worse it was at this point as I am sat fully aroused, engorged and rampant; I notice one of the girls sat across from me on the Chat line, is looking at me...
I'd noticed her the first day I started, she was cute, older than me (Then again I think everyone was in the office at this point). Safe to say she caught my eye as I thought she was hot, but older and I considered well out of my league. As was my want and tastes at this age, Tall, Blonde, slim and safe to say an air of the School Teacher about her, being older, wiser, more mature and in my head no doubt amazingly skilled in bed and knew her way around it. Ahhh, the foibles of youth. She often wore little Tartan skirts, high above the knee, but low enough not to be sluttish, Black tights/stockings and heels of at least a few inches high that made the curves of her calves just sing out to be touched. Modestly tight tops or shirts that showed off and flattered her breasts, though not ample, they still protruded and were deliciously on show for the admiring eyes that I'd caught often taking them in as I did when I thought no one was looking.
I was simply happy to be bashful and steal a glance at her as and when the chance came, I certainly wasn't able to talk to her or chat her up as that was just a bridge too far. I think I'd perhaps maybe exchanged a hello and perhaps a brief little bit of chit chat while making a coffee and she'd come to do the same, but nothing more as no doubt even by saying hello I'd probably turned a deep shade of Red and left to go back to my desk. Then no doubt had to walk back to collect the coffee I'd rushed off and left to hide my blushes.
So having her eyes on me and actually having to look her in the eyes as she was looking to catch mine, was seriously difficult. I knew instantly she had caught on to what was happening with my call, her little grin at the side of her mouth, was half smirk, half utter delight. One side of her mouth turned up and the lower tip of her pretty Canine visible, which really was not helping me as I nearly bit my lip seeing such a sexy grin. Oh I was busted all right, without doubt. She knew!
I'm now utterly mortified, the conversation with Lynn from my end was a range of different “Mmmm, yeah's, ooooh's” and barely coherent “Tell me mores” as I am lost for words and my focus as much as it should be on her, isn't.
I meet her gaze across the gap between our desks and it confirmed her notion. I couldn't hold her eyes for more than a second before I had to look away, stare into space, find a spot of deep fascination elsewhere like my life depended on it and try and stop the heat of the blush that was already firing up from my toes and rocketing Northwards like a Space Shuttle launch. As if I needed anything more to have my blood boiling at this point?
I dared a glance back and she had not moved her eyes an inch, still fixed firmly at my head and waiting for me to look back. She pinned me to my chair with her cool sultry gaze, I could feel how much she was enjoying me caught like a rabbit in headlights. Her grin now spread across her whole mouth and my balls were now on fire...
Then she did something I couldn't believe. She was sat sideways on her chair, facing outwards from her desk rather than “at it”, she slid herself slowly down her chair a little so her head lowered. All very casual and subtle. Lower she slid until her eye level was able to view under my desk! As if she needed to confirm what she knew already. Yet there she was, inching herself lower to casually and in my full view, in broad daylight, look to see if I was sporting a hard on. All while she held my gaze and grinned at me.
The bigger grin she quickly sported told me all I needed to know once her head had stopped going lower, she raised herself slowly back up and again, dead into my eyes stared at me, raised an eyebrow at me and winked. I nearly died right there and then. Yet the rush of arousal of her knowing my dick was as hard as it gets, unforgettable. More so knowing she decided to take a good look and make sure I knew she was going to look and stare. What evil naughty lushness.
My eyes must have been bulging as much as my crotch was currently, the look on her face was pure evil and enjoyment and carnal knowledge and all at my bloody expense. She was now sat upright and crossed one of her slender legs over the other and just sat looking at me with a wicked grin and naughty thoughts flashing across her eyes. I felt like I was being eaten a spoonful at a time and this was just sport for her.
The voice in my ear finally breaking the moment being had with the woman sat across from me, I was sweating from the blush and from the ache in my trousers, now straining harder than ever before and pressing right against the zipper barely stopping my hardness springing out for all to see and the Lady across from me to watch and enjoy no doubt. Even with my backside firmly wedged into the back of the chair my cock was swollen and pushed hard against the thin material. I could feel the first seep of juice emerging. Oh fucking hell, now that too?
I allowed instinct to take over and did what I had seen so many others do, breaking the spell of the devil woman thrilling at my sexual arousal across from me I lowered my head to my desk, pulled the phone in close, concentrated on the call and Lynn’s voice, pulled the handset close to my ear and mouth and got on with “My job”.
I'm not sure at all if Lynn had sensed I was distracted, but I had been lost in the look situation with the Blonde across from me, how long that had lasted I don't know, but I think long enough for Lynn to think she had started to either lose my interest or that she may have perhaps scared me off or away. She seemed to make the decision she was losing my interest and so had stepped another big step forward and was chasing the conversation to keep it rooted and on track with where she was now firmly fixated.
Her breath was raspy and she was almost panting, a little tremble in it, and now I was back into the call she seemed to perk up as I was paying attention to her words and my replies were probably noticeably more focussed and less monosyllabic. I guess lucky for me she was revealing how uncomfortable she was, now sat in soaking wet underwear, the gusset pressing tight against her most sensitive bits...
Now my focus was my own again as all I could see was the plastic coated desktop inches from my eyes, I took the cue and asked her what underwear she had on. She told me a nice pair of Black knickers, with little White spots, mostly mesh/see through panelling with silky material at the gusset. (This goes a long way to explaining my taste in women’s underwear, as in what I like to see a Lady wearing...)
I asked if she was really that uncomfortable? She replied it was sexy and sensual, but the wetness was like nothing she had experienced before as she was having serious trouble hearing my voice and resisting certain urges.
I realised at this point, she was exactly where she wanted to be, was happy being there and little I had done had put her off heading to this point. Even drifting out of the conversation almost completely hadn't swayed her, and if anything had spurred her on. So I took another step forward and thought, “Fuck it”, so I lowered my voice a few more levels and nearly growled “Take them off then...” I summed up all my confidence and every reserve of command I had and threw it all into a low rasped snarling instruction. She squealed with pleasure and I knew I'd hit the mark with a full Bullseye.
I heard the phone drop, dreading the purr that signalled the call being disconnected thinking I'd misjudged her reaction.
Then a scrabbling noise and distant swear words, suddenly coming louder and more understandable as she grabbed the handset and brought it back to her mouth again. “Dropped the fucking phone! Sorry, but you made me drop the phone, holy fuck you sexy bastard...”
That was it, my ego suddenly lit up and became fully stoked, it was more than enough to show me I had her and she was loving it. I was at a turning point and one I had no idea was to be a transitional and pivotal moment in my life and sexuality. I told her again... “Take them off then...”
“ohhhh, O.K... Hold on...”
The phone on her end was put down, gently this time.
I could hear rustling and again, faint swearing.
When the noise of the phone being picked up had faded, she was again, breathy and sounding flushed.
“I'm back” she whispered, her voice now more subtle, and certainly sounding a little coy.
I told her to tell me what she saw when she looked own. She described the view below her, her fine soft dark pubes, trimmed and clipped into a nice triangle shape, her lips puffy and swollen, her clit firm and proud, hard and sensitive, aching...
She again told me how wet she was, utterly dripping in fact. Hot and wet sex oozing from her and her knickers were totally soiled with her juices.
Luckily at this point I was screaming for a smoke. This was back in the 90's and smoking in the workplace wasn't an issue nor illegal even. I slowly raised my head of the desk, many people had swapped seats or moved around, more importantly for me the Blonde who'd caught me in a hot and flustered moment was no longer sat across from me watching me squirm in magnificent sexual discomfort.
I reached for the packet of cigarettes and my lighter, and just as I was lighting the end, noticed the timer on my phone display.
SHIT!
Current Call length – 1h 57m 55secs.
I'd never actually noticed the time pass so quickly, not had I ever had to tell a caller that they needed to end the call and if they wanted to that they could call back and ask for me. Nor was I sure how to even broach the subject, and more to the point; what if she wasn't aware she'd just spent 2 hours talking to me and was about to hit the roof in anger at such a long and expensive call????
“Lynn, sorry, but I have to stop you for a second, much as I hate to do so as things are seriously getting me hot and bothered and I'm aching to hear you tell me more...”
“What's the matter?” She asked, her voice held a trace of panic in it...
I explained about the fact I wasn't allowed to hold a call for more than a certain time period (Thinking if I avoided stating 2 hours it might not register) and that length was about to hit, and if she wished to continue what we were discussing/doing, that she'd need to redial and ask for me by name. Making sure I was clear as a bell that she was to specifically ask for me and not to speak to anyone else.
I then took in a deep breath and waited for the reply I was dreading. That she wasn't going to do any of that, and was going and that was her done.
“Oh, I'd never speak to anyone else now, no point talking to someone else when I can talk to you if I can ask for you” Was her reply “I'll hang up and call right back! Speak to you in a minute sexy!!!”
She then hung up...
My head was blown, I gathered myself for a moment and drew harshly on my cigarette. Grabbed my pen and logged my first 2 hour call with a huge grin of satisfaction. It wasn't going to pull my monthly rate up by much on it's own, but it was a start, one in the bag, and now I knew I could do it once I could repeat it.
One of the supervisors walked over and asked if I was OK, I told them I was, and that I might have a caller ringing back for me. She looked at me and said that as I'd just taken a 2 hour call, I could if I wanted take a little breather and that she might not call back as was sometimes the case when they hung up and realised 2 hours had just gone and the cost of it hit them. She was preparing me for the worst I knew, and I thought that it would be the case, much as I hoped not.
She said to perhaps go get a coffee and if needed just take a beat to clear my head of the call as 2 hours is a long time on a call.
I almost stood up there and then, as the idea of a coffee now the nicotine was working it's way into my system was calling out for it's playmate and partner in crime. Then remembered all anew I was still sporting a massive hard on and now no doubt a rather large and still growing wet patch of pre cum.
FUCK!!!!!!!!!!
& Then the walk of Shame
So, I had little choice really, but to get up and as casually as possible walk towards the little room at the end of the desks where the kettle and drinks machines were. Also where the 2 little toilets were hidden, small rooms with a single toilet in and a small sink, no assignments for gender on them, just a little engaged or vacant lock system on them.
I did the “man with an obvious hard on but trying not to show it” walk. Hips forced back, butt pushed backwards and trying to look like I was walking normally. It looks ludicrous, but most men have at one time or another found themselves having to try and pull it off, the walk that is... Probably best to just walk with your hard cock leading the way and pointing to the destination in reality, but for some reason, we rarely do...
I get to the coffee room and quickly start making a coffee with the idea that I might as well and it will seem more normal if I did than just diving right into the toilet. All flawed logic of course and mostly down to me now being highly paranoid about what can or cannot be seen in my trousers, who's noticed and how noticeable anything visible is. As I had dared not look down, in case my worst fears were showing to all and so obvious. I've got visions of a huge wet patch of rapidly cooling pre cum showing obviously to everyone and making the bulge in my trousers allt he more obvious...
Just as I am adding the sugar to my coffee cup, it really just does feel like a hole needs to open in the ground and swallow me up as someone walks into the coffee room, with that same sexy smile on her face and full knowledge in her eyes.
FUCK ME SIDEWAYS WITH A GIRAFFE, PLEASE WHY????
“Bet you could do with that coffee huh” is the comment she slyly says, her look says it all, the comment was just playing with me. She comes close to me and her mouth closes in up against my ear...
I am literally shaking with adrenaline, fear and hormones about to explode. The smell of my pre cum must be washing off me, I'm seriously now aware I must wreak of it??? Surely?
I can now smell her, she has a soft scent on, not flowery but lush and enveloping. Heady and alluring, makes me want to sniff her neck, or wrap a hand around her an pull her close so I can draw in a full breath of it. I don't of course, but it was so tempting and my raging hormones are borderline taking me over as my testosterone levels are now peaking and the pressing urge of my poor neglected and overheated cock are all concerns which need dealing with and bloody soon!
“First time?” She asks. Low, soft voiced and pitched just for my ears. My dick twitched so hard I almost climaxed on the spot.
I look her in the eyes, and I have to actually lick my lips as they are dry as bones found in a desert.
“Ummm, yeah” I manage to stutter. Though somehow I am able to hold her gaze. She's so close, I can read the thoughts in her eyes as they register in her brain, or so it feels right there and right then.
“You looked like you were handling yourself well” is her reply, and could that line have been any more loaded with innuendo? “Kept your control and cool, even under ahem, pressure...”
No blush yet. This just hits me, usually by now I'd be flaming Red with steam coming out my ears and looking for somewhere to go run to and hide. I hold my ground, wondering how long before it starts to rise from my toes, but enjoying the sudden absence of it.
Seems she has noticed as well that I am not blushing, nor as uncomfortable as perhaps she was expecting or hoping maybe?
Seems the testosterone might be a good counter to the shyness...
She steps it up a gear and again leans in close, this time her hand brushing mine “Did you make her cum?” Again, that low pitched subtle tone, just for my ear alone...
I step up to the plate, give it the best swagger I have, swing my bat and send out what I hope is a home run...
“Not yet, just waiting for her to call back as I hit the 2 hour call length cap...”
She just smiles, not even phased, winks at me and looks down at my cock, still stood up proudly and waving for attention. “Best go take care of that then really, you must be dying to either be rid or get off by now surely...”
Turns on her heel and heads back to her desk...
I watch her sexy arse sway side to side as she hustles it back to her place on the line.
Then I quickly head to the toilet...
End of Part One... |
