Really, when it’s all said and done, it’s really true that, "it’s only kinky the first time."  I can easily recall every exquisite detail of the first time a boy put me on my hands and knees to have sex.  Oh my, oh my.  I was barely past virginity and I thought I’d be marrying this boy and having babies in the future.  He was a hulking giant (6’4′) of bulk and brawn, and I was a little thing of 105 pounds.  I needed his permission and his man-hungriness lust to encourage me, show me the way.  To teach me to be kinky.  And at that time, being on my hands and knees — naked! — was very kinky, indeed. 

I felt dirty.  I felt slutty.  I felt fucking wonderful.  He could see me, all of me, lusty and lewd and hungry.  Oh, I was so dirty, dirty. dirty.  And he knew it.  And it made his fucking cock so hard to see me losing control like that.  Right there in front of him.  Right there atop my own mother’s coffee table, where he could fondle me and finger me and touch me and eventually … fuck the living daylights out of me.

Later — think of Diane Lane sitting on that bus in ‘Unfaithful’ — over and over again I’d replay what we’d done, how bad I’d been, how dirty and hot I’d felt and how good it was.  Oh it was soooo good to be bad.  It was so damn good and I wanted more, more, more.  And so we continued to learn, explore and stretch our sexuality in new and devious and dirty ways.

My passion (and lust) for that boy eventually waned.  No marriage, no babies.  I was off to college; off to bigger and better things.  I was off to open up the world — open it wide for myself and all my dreams.  It was the only path I could take, but I’m so glad I didn’t know that until it was upon me; that in my innocence and blush of first love, I was able to submerge my "good girl Catholicism" deep into my Delphic heart and learn the joy of "feeling dirty" with this boy so eager to teach me.

What amazes me is that these numbered of years later — internet-enlightened and supposedly sexually wiser than the "free love" generation — so many of us walk one way and talk another when it comes to kinky, fetish-y, dirty-ish S E X.  I know you’re doing it!  I know you’re doing a helluva lot of it!  I specialized in Kinky Phone Sex, Fetish Phone Sex and FemDom Phone Sex.  So don’t you go forgetting that.  Not even for one minute.  I’ve got your number!

Well, er, you’ve got MY number.  Semantics.  Let’s move on.

But really — and I do mean REALLY — think about the porn you access, think about what YOU think about when you masturbate.  I certainly don’t masturbate to vanilla scenarios. NOT EVER.  And I’m pretty sure you don’t either.  Come on … fess up.  You can tell me all about it.  Or maybe you conveniently don’t remember/think about the particular bent piece of brain  candy you were chewing away at the last time it was hands-on solo?

I say "conveniently" because I used to do that.  Guilty as charged!  I’d have this horrifically perverse psycho-drama playing in my head as I, as the boys say, "rubbed one out."  I would get hot and itchy and crazy-lustful.  Which transferred into a seriously out-of-this-world breath-taking orgasm. YUMM-FUCKING-Y!  Then I’d think to myself, you’re a bad girl.  Shame on you. There is something wrong with you.  You are disgusting.  And so I’d promptly and ever-so-efficiently forget it, erase it, deny it.  Gone, gone, gone.

And wouldn’t you know it?  There it would be, right back where it belonged: that bright & shiny Halo right there atop my good little Catholic school girl head.  A little crooked, perhaps, but none the worse for the wear.  Now that all that "naughtiness" was for all intents & purposes erased, I could go about the business of being conventionally normal.  Just like everybody else.  Which is quite the trick isn’t it?

The slippery part of this business is that — when our halos are back in place — we’ve really do forget.  It’s an intermittent amnesia of sorts (because you can bet we’ll revisit those vile scenarios and nasty thoughts sooner rather than later … and often) which affords us quite the lofty spot from which to express our shock, our disgust at "those other people" with the "weird fetishes" and "forbidden desires" and "perverse kinks."

Which is just silliness. Because one man’s Panty Fetish is another man’s BDSM is another man’s Body Worship is another man’s CFNM is another man’s Strap-On Training is another man’s Public Masturbation, is another man’s CBT is another man’s Forced-Bi is another man’s Castration is another man’s Puppy Training is another man’s Cuckolding is another man’s Tease & Denial is another man’s …

You get my point?  Don’t you?

This doesn’t mean we’re running around every day salivating and humping and chomping our fetish fangs all over the place.  I mean that wouldn’t look very nice at church now, would it?  Plus it would make for a lot of dry cleaning.  In my REAL LIFE I  have tender and romantic sex, with the occasional wild and crazy encounter.  And if you want to know more about that … well, you’re going to have to at least buy me dinner.  🙂

But I am quite serious when I iterate that all of us have THE RIGHT to Feel Dirty.  It’s just one part of our multi-faceted sexual selves.  If we deny this part of us, harness our super powers (prayer, hobbies, nightly bouts of self-flagellation) and Just Say No to the Kryptonite (get out of my head, lewd thoughts and craven images), we’re really just perpetuating out-dated psycho-sexual mythology and carnal misconceptions.  And then inflicting this erroneous crap on ourselves and others. 

As a wise woman once told me:  Thou shalt not should on thyself.  I thought it was good advice at the time and I’ve always kept it handy for the occasional crisis of conscience. I would just hope we remember to not should on others, either.  

How about this for a bumper sticker: Eradicate Sexual Obscurantism! 

xo, Angela

The Land of MILF and MOnEy

Believe it or not, many women aspire to try the Phone Sex thing. I know because I get tons of email asking for guidance, suggestions and/or linkage. It is impossible to answer everybody. I try when I can, but usually I’m just too busy doing way too much to get to them all. So I thought I’d take some time to address some of these issues today.

PLEASE NOTE: These are only my opinions, but they are based on my personal experience and ethics. Hopefully my callers, my readers, fellow PSOs and aspiring PSOs will find it at least interesting, perhaps enlightening and maybe even instructive.

Yes, it’s easy to get going. Just pop sex jobs or phone sex jobs or phone sex into your search engine and you are on your way. Many phone sex sites have an application page readily handy. I am not going to go through all of the possibilities that are available to the beginner. Doxy, of the Phone Slut Diary, provides excellent information for both callers and providers regarding your choices and what to expect.

Like Doxy, I am an independent, working for myself. This is my business which, unlike Doxy, I operate through the NiteFlirt platform. Yes, my business is very successful and I’m able to support myself quite comfortably. That said, if you are new to the industry, I highly recommend working for a service before making the leap to business owner.

Why? Because good phone sex is about more than moaning and groaning and bragging about how hot you are. If you work for a company–maybe even two or three–before spreading your entrepreneurial wings, you will get the experience you need to create a phone sex business that can stand up to the competition. And believe me, there is a lot of competition.

Plus there are many different types of phone sex. Working for a service, particularly one which takes any request (shemale, MILF, incest, mistress, cross-dressing, submissive, bestiality, hermaphrodite, golden showers, etc.), is the best way to hone your craft. You will get invaluable lessons in human relations and sexuality, and even marketing and customer service. You will also learn what phone sex niche best suits your personality and ability.

And working for a number of services will give you exposure to various business paradigms. Then when you start shifting from worker bee to queen bee, you will have an very good idea as to how you want to run your business.

In the meantime, while you are in the learning stages and even when you’re "in the biz," the internet can be your best friend. The information you can garner is invaluable, bountiful and free. Spend your time wisely by checking out the competition, noting what they charge, what they offer, and what makes them stand out. Research fetish terms and types of kink. Read the plethora of free erotic stories that are available everywhere and anywhere.

And remember that even when you are working for a company, you are still in the driver’s seat. It is up to you to provide something of value and build up your own customer base. As I kinda-sorta said earlier, everybody and their mother wants to be a Phone Sex Superstar these days. Which means the caller has innumerable choices. How can you provide an experience which makes him remember you and want to call again?

Personally, I think it’s imperative to value and respect the caller and his particular brand of kink. It’s all about you and your professional integrity. Never judge a man by his fantasy. While you might not be able to fulfill a certain request due to TOS (terms of service) issues, lack of knowledge, understanding and/or ability, that doesn’t mean that the caller is a degenerate.

Even when you are new and just testing the waters (very scary…I still remember every moment of the first call I ever took), your ability to treat the caller like a valued customer will go a long way in making up for lack of experience. It’s a very easy concept: treat the caller the way you like to be treated when you are doing business with someone. And quite frankly, if you can’t or refuse to do that, he will most likely move on to find someone who can. Repeat business is what will build your client base.

I often get age play or bestiality requests. The TOS under which I operate do not permit this type of call. I don’t agree with that policy, but I have to follow it. But I don’t automatically assume the caller is a perverted monster. From experience, I know that 99 percent of these guys are harmless and living very normal–and sometimes even stellar–everyday lives. And so I tell them that–with much regret on my part and no disrespect to them–I cannot fulfill their particular request. Most of the time, if you are nice, the caller will be nice.

A while back, a regular caller told me that the reason he kept calling back was that he was tired of rude "FemDoms" who didn’t even listen to what he wanted, just going off on their own tangents. Which highlights two things worth mentioning here.

1. Specializing in FemDom, BDSM or even Erotic Humiliation does not justify a lack of manners on the part of the provider. Rudeness is not domination, it is crudeness. And actually reflects a lack of superiority, sophistication and talent.

2. Listening well is the ultimate secret weapon if you want to be a successful PSO. There is a Chinese proverb which goes like this: To listen well, is as powerful a means of influence as to talk well, and is as essential to all true conversation. Don’t underestimate the importance of listening. Because if you do, there is no possible way to attain success. It’s the caller’s fantasy, not yours. If you insist on it being about you, you will end up with a phone that never rings.

A topic hotly debated in PSO forums and communities is the matter of pricing. Of course, if you are working for a service, they set the price. The company I got started with charged $75/half hour, with that being the minimum. Our customer base was comprised of smart and successful men. I got spoiled by the best, and now market to attract those callers. I like them a lot. And they seem to like me.

But when I first went out on my own, I couldn’t remain competitive in my environment at the price I thought I was worth. I had to work my way up, so to speak. The buyer wants to know you’re "worth it." And can you blame him? Before you set your price, it is a good idea to look at other providers offering similar services. And if you have no history of doing business to offer up as proof of your expertise, then set your prices a bit lower than those girls. Give the caller a reason to try out the new girl on the block. As you gain professional recognition and a following, you can then begin to raise your prices.

Lastly, a word about wish lists and tips. While most girls–many of my good friends, in fact–these days have wish lists, I opt not to. Why? Because, quite honestly, I want to be valued and paid well for what I do. In other words, SHOW ME THE MONEY. My job is to get the caller off and do it with (hopefully) a whole bunch of panache. Pay me well for my talent, thank you very much. And I don’t want the caller to feel obligated or bamboozled by a not-so-subtle hint to buy me something.

Tips are okay, if they come in on their own. Again, I don’t expect tips (AKA tributes), nor do I ask for them. Often guys surprise me, which just tickles me pink. This is all rather new, this "gimme, gimme, gimme" attitude on the part of phone sex providers. Unfortunately, I think many girls get into the industry with no thought about providing a quality and professional service. Instead their focus is how much they can get while basically doing nothing to earn or deserve it. Anyway, it’s your call. Just think seriously about the ramifications to you and your business.

So, did you learn something? Or did I piss you off?

With Much Affection, Angela

_______________________________________

Some of my original and steadfast readers will remember the above from 11/19/07.  I’m repeating it here because it is timely and I still get zillions of emails/requests for advice on becoming a Phone Sex Operator.  Even my callers — maybe it’s the economy? — are asking how they or their girlfriends should go about getting into the biz. 

… and long time, no talk. 

At least that’s the way it was between Mr. N and myself until I got this absolutely wonderful email from him:

Dear Angela St. Lawrence:

From an old friend who remembers you as Misty.

I must have done something good to somebody once to have found your card with your web site and all on it.

By the way, there used to be a picture of a lady with a strap-on in your site. That’s gone. Ahhh. Where is that picture?

OK. Enough blabbering. I pray that you are healthy and well-taken care of, that you are safe and loved, that life comes back to embrace you with goodness and joy even when things go up and down, and that you embrace it back.  Be good to yourself, eat lots of veggies, stay away from soft drinks, drink water and juice and delicious teas, and be good to yourself.  You are a delight.

Dying to talk with you,

Mr. N.

Yes, he knew me as Misty — one of my "characters" at the phone sex service I worked for when in college.  Regardless of the name — and believe you me, a phone sex operator usually goes by many — the connection was a good one.  So, a few years back — when I left the corporate world to rev up the kink-O-phone once again — I’d contacted him and we’d started up again like there hadn’t even been a lapse.  And so we continued for quite a while.

Until he suddenly disappeared.   Being a busy girl with a lot of regular clients, it took a while for me to notice.  Hey?  Wonder what’s up with Mr. N.?  He hasn’t called in quite a while now. Hmmm.  But the world kept turning and the phone kept ringing.  So, although I never ever forgot him, I had to move on.  Two years later — during which I thought about Mr. N. at least once a week, sometimes more — and there he is in my mailbox!  Woot!

I immediately emailed him back and — as they say — the rest is history.  WE ARE ON!  We picked up — for the second time — right where we left off, without skipping a beat. 

It was so much fun to catch up.  Mr. N. apologized for the disappearing act, explaining the whats, wheres and whys of it.  We commiserated about OUTSOURCING — of which we both have too much experience.  We talked about the validity of ANY fantasy and the psychological dualities and complexities of human sexuality.  He told me about his new business venture.

So then I reminded Mr. N of the two-girl call he’d done with me and another (supposedly talented) PSO when I’d been with that service where he’d first contacted me, because it is one of my funniest and fondest memories of him.  He really didn’t remember, but that speaks a lot more to my ego than his memory retention abilities. 

You see, at that point in time, way back when …

Mr. N really wanted to try two girls at once.  This was new ground for him and, obviously, an expensive endeavor.  While I usually don’t like other girls in on calls with me (it’s a mixed bag and you never know who will be up to the task or professional … I’ve actually heard the other girl typing during a call), who was I to rain on his parade?  Despite the fact that the other PSO had only been with our company for a few days, the dispatcher assured me that she was experienced, having worked a considerable length of time  for another phone sex company before signing on with us. 

So — just to be safe — I took it upon myself to talk with this girl first.  Because while Mr. N. delighted me to no end, he was a rather demanding caller.  His fantasies were complex and multi-layered, and he required a lot of verbosity from my side when we played.   So I explained all this to Mr. N’s and I’s pending phone mate, giving her a general outline of Mr. N’s likes, dislikes and hot buttons and emphasizing that it was absolutely essential that she pay close attention to the fantasy as it evolved and to then respond/interact in explicit and creative ways.

You might think that was rather bitchy of me, and perhaps this new PSO thought the same, despite the fact that I went out of my way to be positive and friendly during our entire pre- phonesex huddle.  Oh well, too bad.  Mr. N was paying double for this adventure and he deserved the best.  I owed it to him, myself and the phone sex company to do everything possible to make this thing work well.  Jezuz Chrizt!  Mr. N was paying double for what would probably be an extended call.  In other words:  BIG BUCKS!

But no worries!  This gal told me so.  No worries at all; she knew what she was doing and had this thing in the bag.  And so, it was time to do the dirty deed.

And let me tell you, my friends, it was bad.  We got the moaning, the groaning.  And then more moaning and groaning.  With unflagging expectations and hopes that this was just a case of stage fright which Ms. New PSO would soon overcome, Mr. N and I moved forward with the fantasy.  Then silence, then more moaning and groaning.  I think at one point she did say, "Does that feel good?"  How original and spontaneous! This was an interactive role-play!  Where were the visual pictures and clever words she’d promised?  More groaning.  Then some grunting and heavy breathing — well at least that was something new.  As you might imagine, I was rapidly approaching panic status.  Poor Mr. N!  What was I do to to get us out of this mess?

Suddenly, Mr. N cleared his throat.  Girls, lets stop this for a moment.

Uh oh!

Mr. N proceeded to basically tell New PSO — in his soft-spoken and genteel manner –that she absolutely sucked at this.  He told her that he wanted her to disconnect from the call so he and Misty could continue the fantasy without her.  He assured her that he was not angry, that he was confident that she’d get better at this phone sex thing IF she followed Misty’s example and learned all she could from Misty.  Because Misty was the absolute.  Misty was an artist.  Misty was perfection.  Misty would teach her how to do it right.  Misty was the alpha and omega. 

… and all that jazz. 

While I’ll be the first to admit that Mr. N is possibly a bit biased and even perhaps smitten, seeing me as he does through the erotic glaze of our unconventional and downright dirty escapades — she really wasn’t any good at this phone sex thing.   And even though Mr.N did go on-and-on-and-on about my wonder-hood-ness, he had a valid complaint and was paying for what he’d hoped would be an extraordinary experience.  He was frustrated, poor man.  Even so, he was diplomatic and encouraging with New PSO.

It didn’t matter though.  She was offended or pissed or whatever — because she abruptly hung up the phone.  Very loudly hung up the phone.  And that was the very last of New PSO.  Literally.  She was gone, vamoosed, poof, disappeared.  Bye, bye bye.  Later, after Mr. N and I had said our goodbyes, I called the service and gave them the scoop.  When they rang her up, they got her voice mail.  She was officially missing in action and nobody ever heard hide nor hair from her again.

Oh well … 

Maybe she’s married with five children now.  She could be a model, a nanny, a doctor, an Olympic competitor, a beauty consultant.  Who knows?  Or perhaps she’s the CEO of one of the successful Phone Sex Companies with whom I compete for business.  Where ever she is and what ever she’s doing, I wish her well.

Because Mr. N and I — for the second time — found each other again.  And all is right with the world.  Now I gotta get going and find that strap-on picture for Mr. N.  I promised!

xo, Angela

*wink*

A very special thanks to the generous and beautiful  Ms. Bowers of Strapped in Silk (whom more than a few of my callers would absolutely adore).