Fear and Loathing of Phone Sex

This is an old story that I thought Mistress Akume might get a nice laugh out of. I hope you enjoy it!

Journal Entry: September 2005

Last night I became reacquainted with this guy that I had met online awhile back.

I remembered him because of his eloquence, his charm and the way that he wrote, so when I found him again, I was elated!

We talked online for hours, like long lost friends, and the next thing I knew, that sly cyber devil had talked me into it. Yes, he talked me in to phone sex! (I know, I know)

Honestly, at that point, I could not wait to hear his smoldering hot voice! (Picturing a cross between JFK Jr and Johnny Depp! Yeah!)

So he gave me his number and I asked him to give me a few minutes to work up the courage. I ran around my house shutting windows and blinds (well, just in case I got in to it) and tried to figure out the most comfortable place to partake in this new sexual adventure.

After trying several areas that didn’t feel quite “right”, I ended up in my closet.

Yesssssss…..my closet.

Well, the thing is, the lady that lived next door came over one night, all pissed off about the volume of my stereo, which I might add was so low that even I couldn't hear it in the next room. But she said that it faced her bedroom and THEN she said, “Believe me, I can hear everything…EVERYTHING!” and stomped off. (Ummm, if the stereo faced her bedroom that meant that MY bedroom faced her bedroom. (Which meant … oh crap!)

So there I was in my closet, holding the phone in one hand and a lighter in the other, so that I could see the numbers to dial. (I had no lights on because I didn’t even want to see myself doing that)

My hands were shaking as I dialed the number and of course, after ALL that build up, I heard one ring…and hung up!

“Damn it!”

After about a split second, the phone was ringing back at me, “Fuck! I forgot to block *69!” “What do I do?” I was frantically thinking, as it rang and rang.

Finally, it stopped, and believe it or not, my heart sank a little. “Well, I guess that’s the end of Sexy Pilot.” I thought. “No one in their right mind would call back agai…..”

It started ringing again, I could NOT believe it.

“Fuck it!” I thought, and pressed the talk button, somehow managing to say hello. Although, just barely.

“Greta?” I heard on my end. (Greta was my screen name)

“Yes.” I answered.

“Are you lying down with your toys?” He asked.

“Umm, no.” I squeaked.

“What?” He said. “I can barely hear you.”

“I…I can’t talk.” I warned him.

“Why, are you not alone?” He questioned, rather rudely!

“No, I just, I cant do this.” I said softly.

As we went back and forth like that, and I heard more and more of him, I was becoming more and more horrified! Oh my God!

Sexy Pilot, my Sexy Pilot, the one that I had been saving my “phone sex” self for, the most eloquent cyber person I had ever spoken to, my JFK Jr., had the voice NOT of Phantom of The Opera but more like that of an 80 year old pig farmer from Kansas or maybe even Kentucky, and probably with no teeth! (No offense to any 80-year-olds from Kansas or Kentucky… but I mean, come on!)

“Greta, think of me suck…….”

I hung up then, so I (thankfully) never heard the end of the sentence.

I sat in the dark closet for a few more minutes.

(Dead, dark silence)

(Silence)

(Silence)

(Silence)

Eventually, I bolted from the closet and slammed the phone back on its cradle. I ran to the sink and began to wash my hands…I don’t know, I just felt dirty somehow.

That night was the beginning of my newly separated self, stepping out in to the real world instead of a cyber one.

Note to Self: If you want to live in a fantasy world, then keep it in the fantasy world. Otherwise, no one will ever, ever, live up to your grandiose expectations.



-kyuuri