A week off

Sorry that it’s been a while since I have posted a blog.  Every now and again I take a week or so off the phones.  You need to.  It’s draining on the soul at times and a lot harder than you would think.

Does that surprise anyone?

It did surprise me.  The first few weeks were a blur of interesting, alarming, funny, bizarre and outrageous calls.  It was fun and interesting answering the phone.  I was shocked many a time.  I was even charmed and taken in by more than one of my punters smooth talking charm.

One sticks in my mind.  I only spoke to him twice, both times on a night shift at 5am.  He sounded quite local to me, very well spoken and funny.  He came through on the clean line the first time.  And after ten minutes of gentle teasing and fun he kept trying to ‘take the call dirty’ which wasn’t allowed on the clean line.  So he said his goodbyes, left me smiling and I though no more of it.  After a minute the phone rang again.  It was him, but this time on the ‘hard-core’ line.  We chatted for about 35 minutes.  He was flirty, charming and so easy to talk to.  We did talk dirty but, and I know this sounds naff, but it was nice, almost loving.  He was a farmer, about 28 and had a lovely manner.  He called again the next week at the same time but after that I never heard from him again.

So, every now and again I step away.  I love the money but this isn’t my main job, it’s a bonus.  So I can step away for a week every now and again.  I don’t know how some girls do it full time.  Believe me, to get a full time wage you would need to work a lot more than full time hours.

The occasional guy does get under your skin.  Usually the ones with half a brain and an ounce of charm.  Not all guys are rude, far from it.  Most are ok but by far the vast majority hang up as soon as they cum.  Funny as it may sound that does leave you feeling a bit put out.  I think ‘oh come on, at least hang around for some small talk afterwards’ but of course, they don’t.  And why would they, it’s costing them a small fortune.

Horrible bosses…

That first week was full of calls, I had hardly any time in between calls, it was great.  I earned a lot of money for not a lot of work.  The supervisors sounded friendly and I soon got an idea how they worked.  There was one on all the time.  The worked in shifts of 8 hours so 3 covered the full day, I think there were 6 of them together.  I would get phone calls from them when I was logged off. ‘Hi babe you’re doing great, can you log on anytime between 10 and 2 for me I could really do with your help?’.

They all sounded really genuine and nice but I soon got to the bottom of what they were all about.  When you got one of these sickly sweet phone calls it was usually, as I mentioned, when you were logged off.  So that means you could have people round, be busy with the kids, any number of things.  Mr C knew what I was doing, working on the lines, but I’m willing to bet there are some women out there who, for whatever reason, keep it a secret from their partners.  Maybe their partners are financially controlling and this is the only way she can squirrel away some funds.  Explaining the frequent calls would be awkward.

  I even answered one of their begging to work calls in front of my mother one afternoon she had popped round for coffee.  They were very intrusive.  On occasion it would be a case of ‘it’s really busy right now, we’re missing calls, log on now please’.  Add in at least 3 text messages a day to the 3 phone calls and about 4 emails a week it started to feel like they were on your back constantly.

Of course you were under no obligation to agree to cover any of the shifts they were offering.  You could say no.  As long as you were logged on for the 25 hours a week that they required and doing your night shift, you were fulfilling your contract.

Just Say No

In fact, I learned the hard way that the best option was to just say no to their requests.  Basically each supervisor had allocated shifts that they had to ensure was covered.  I have no idea how many ops constituted being covered but they were obviously told here’s your shift, get 20 girls logged on at all times.  That’s when they would get to their phones and try  to get you to agree to cover.  They would ask for the full 8 hours or ask you to commit to anything.  As soon as you said ‘ok I’ll do two hours between 12 and 2′ they’d say ‘great I’ll put you down for that’s.  All very well.  But this is work from home job, things happen.  If you didn’t ‘show’ for a shift you told a supervisor you would do, you were in trouble.  The supervisors had to report to big boss Mel if someone didn’t show when they said they would.  If the mood took Mel, which it often did, she would cut your rate for the week.  So, instead of getting 14p per minute of chat time, you’d get 10.  You can see why they were in a hurry to find a reason to cut your rate for that week, more money for the company.

So I quickly learnt just to say no to all shift requests, this didn’t go down well but I wasn’t running the risk.  I never actually got my rate cut for missing a shift, I had one warning, the first time I logged of early during a 3 hour stint I said I’d cover.  I logged of after one call in 90 minutes.  It was pretty obvious there was more than enough cover, there must have  been a lot of ops logged on and twiddling their thumb.  I wasn’t wasting any more time.  And sure enough Mel phoned me a couple of days later, kindly not cutting me but warning me she would the next time.  And she was on a mission to find some reason to cut me, which she eventually found.  She berated you in such a way you felt like a naughty school girl.

Of course the supervisors, or indeed Mel, didn’t really care if your phone didn’t ring in over an hour. They were just interested in making sure there were more than enough ops on to take calls, not if the ops were making mega money. It made no odds to them as a we were only ever paid for the actual call time, not the time in between.

I would soon realise that Mel and the other office staff, and even some of the supervisors (a few were really nice but some were awful) were pretty nasty, un-supportive and pretty vindictive.

But more about that later.

Hello to anyone reading!

I’m rambling on here, kind of forgetting that there might be someone actually reading this!  So, hello to anyone reading!  I’ve kicked the blog off by giving a bit of background to my start on the chat lines.  That’s involved me going back to the start.

2 years on I’m not with the company I started out with, for reasons I’ll touch on at some point.  I’m still on the phones, but still not hammering them and earning my millions but earning enough without impacting on daily life or having to do that dreaded night shift.  I managed to pay for Christmas through the money I earned in November and early December.  To put that into perspective though we probably spent about £350 on Christmas. 

I’m jotting down topics to write about as they pop into my head.  I’ve got some crackers in store, some crazy callers, companies and other experiences and views on this industry.  Who calls, and why?  How much time do guys spend on the lines?

So many burning issues!

BUT WHAT DO YOU WANT TO KNOW?

I’d love to these if there are any questions you might have, things I might be assuming people know or any dirt you want me to dish?  Just leave a comment and let me know!

Job hunting

Job hunting.

My first weekend as a chat line operator

After that first night I woke up buzzing.  I was in control of what I was earning, it felt great. I took my son to school and came back up the road.  I logged on straight away and the calls came flooding in.

One guy from that first day really sticks in my mind for reasons that will become apparant.  He was late twenties, so about my age.  He was quite chatty and responded well to my bubbly character.  He started talking about cars.  He asked what I drove and I made something up, well if they can fantasise why can’t I?

‘I drive a range rover babe’

He seemed mildly impressed, I wasn’t fussed really, it was all just chat really.  He then launched into ne of the most bizarre conversations I ever had.  He told me he had a Porsche cayenne, 911, a Ferrari, a Lamborghini, an Austin Martin DB9 and on and on it went with more and more extravagant cars being mentioned.    Was speechless.  I’d expected weird, like pee on me weird, but this was just plain crazy.  All I had to do was nod (verbally of course) and go ‘wow’ ever y so often.  He told me about his huge garage and a car he had sealed I a vacuum. Bubble – does such a thing even exist?  Apparently so.  I wanted to see how far he would go.  ‘What colour is the db9?’ I asked ‘black’ he replied.  ‘That’s a pity, I think they look great I racing green’ I said.  ‘I’ve got one in racing green too’

Pure lies.  He knew it, I knew it but why?  Why do that?

This crazy call went on for 75 minutes.  Making me about £10 whilst I pottered about the house drinking my tea.  I could hardly believe my luck.  My phone as  on meltdown, I had to log off to give it a chance to charge.  It rang whilst I was logged off, it was one of the supervisors.

She was gushing about how great my call times were and was full of praise.  I’m not ashamed to say I was pretty pleased with myself!

This is easy, piss easy.  I’m going to be rich, rich I tell ya.

Right then.

Dirty talk for the first time

My account was set up, I had a page full of phone numbers numbers and codes. I had recorded my introductions and they had been approved. The supervisor that had been dealing with all this had taken me through what would happen when I got a call.

My land line would ring. I had to answer within three rings. When I did answer I’d hear an automated voice telling me what line it was (hard-core, granny, fetish or clean) I’d then be asked to press any key to accept the call and then I’d start talking to the caller. I would only get calls when I wanted them, when I’d logged on. To log on I had to call a number and enter my user identification and my pin number which they had issued me with. There would then be a pre recorded rant message from Mel.

Mel was the big manager. I don’t know what her title was but looking through the company history she seemed to have been involved right from the start. She would leave a message every week that you had to endure listen to before you could log on. It was basically on the same topic every week. “We are listening to calls, hold times are rubbish, girls are sounding bored, don’t log on if you aren’t in the mood” and so on. None of her messages were particularly motivating, they were quite the opposite in fact. And her voice sounded like nails on a blackboard, I often wondered if she’d actually ever worked the phones and how well she got on with a voice like that!

So, once you got through a that, you were logged on the system, guys would hear your introductions when they called and, in theory, the calls should cone flooding in. When you wanted to log of you just called the same number, entered your details and pressed 2 to log out.

That first night it was 10.30pm when all this got set up. The supervisor had asked what night I wanted to commit to as my night shift. None, in reality, but that was their expectations. 25 hours logged on a week and one night shift which meant from 12am to 6am once a week. I opted for Thursdays. That would fit in best with my own work and other commitments, I could grab 90 minutes sleep after it before getting up for the school run then I could go back to bed for a few hours on a Friday morning. Easy right?

It just so happened that it was Thursday that night but the supervisor graciously agreed it wouldn’t be fair to ask me to do it without any sleep before hand. I agreed to staying on for a couple of hours.

So that was me, ready to go. Mr C was intrigued by it all. He was also ready for bed, so he kissed me good night and took to his bed. Right. I’m going to log on. I dialled in, listened to Mel, entered my numbers and pressed one to log on. I put the phone back down and stared at it like it was a ticking time bomb. It rang. It rang a lot that night. I can’t remember the exact details of my first call, it didn’t last long but not because I was rubbish, probably too good by the sounds of it!

I took a lot of calls, fell into character quite easily and a lot of my calls were lasting for ten or more minutes, which I later found out is fantastic. By 2am I was getting tired. I logged of, totted up my call times and estimated I’d earned the best part of twenty quid, just like that, in 3 hours.

So that was me, a fully fledged phone sex operator.

I went to bed, exhausted!

Where do fuck lines advertise for staff?

A good idea is to look in the paper. And I’m not talking the broadsheets here, think tabloid trash. You aren’t looking for the jobs section, look towards the back and the personal services and the little ones dotted around the sports sections. It won’t take you long to find the adverts you’re looking for. The ones advertising the chat lines to the men. You’ll see a sexy woman, pouting in her lingerie with a phone in her hand. Then you’ll see the large number, usually premium rate. Underneath all that you’ll see, in miniscule print, something along the lines of this service is operated by ……. and a company name.

Google that name.

Carrie was born

She’s a petite size 8, with a nice tight body, long blonde hair and green eyes. The rest is variable. You like small tits? Great, I’m a tiny, pert 28b. If a man asks “Have you got a hairy pussy?” what he’s saying is “I like hairy pussy”. If he asks “are your tits huge?” he is saying I want you to have huge tits, huge tits I shall have! It’s quite obvious when you get into the swing of it. It did take me a while to pick up on this though. At first I had in my mind smooth pussy and huge  tits thinking that this would be well liked by the majority and I’d reel this off when asked without listening to what they were wanting me to look like first of all. In the categories I’d been placed in (hard-core, granny, fetish, clean) Carrie was my age, 27. 

Other than granny, for obvious reasons really! Granny Carrie was 54. I think that was about as old as I could get away with. Fetish was the same introduction as hard-core. For clean I couldn’t mention sex, bum, tits or anything like that. If a guy came through on that line you weren’t allowed to “take the call dirty” at all.

Those calls were the hardest for sure. I’m assuming it was cheaper for the guys to call that line so they would phone it and try to get the ops to talk dirty. The company I worked for we’re very strict and would come down on girls like a ton of bricks if they talked dirty on that line. Basically if you got a whisper for the clean line you knew it would only last a matter of minutes, would make you next to no money and would involve a lot of you saying “oh you know I can’t talk about that babe” and would result in one pissed of horny guy slamming the phone down on you, totally buggering up your call stats.

So Carrie started her existence. Carrie adaptable, imaginative, horny and fun. What more could a guy be looking for?

The Carrie men imagine

Job hunting

It’s a cold wet January morning as I’m sitting here typing this.  My working week is over.  My proper job is done for the week, this is when I earn our pocket money.  I’ve only been logged on for 10 minutes and had 2 rubbish short calls, both just over a minute.  I’ve not checked but I’m guessing that I’ve made about 20p so far.

It  hardly raking it in is it, but I guess every little helps.

So how did I get from that revelation from our swinging partner to logging on myself?  Well as soon as she said webcams I knew that wasn’t for me.  I’ve never looked at the sites these girls work on, from what I’ve read and heard it’s not just  leggy nimble young things that make money flashing their bits to paying men but I knew I couldn’t do it.  Too personal, not anonymous enough for me.  But it sparked a little thought.  We could do with the extra cash.  We had a big holiday coming up but we were struggling for spends.  Mr C worked hard but it was January and work was thin on the ground, he’d been cruelly laid off by his coward of a boss.  Basically after the Christmas break Mr C called his boss to find out what job he was to go to and his boss muttered and mumbled something about not needing him anymore.  Charming man.  Anyway he’d been doing bits and pieces and I still had my work but who wouldn’t benefit fro. Some extra money?

So how does one go about finding a job on phone lines?

Rather unsurprisingly you won’t find adverts in the jobs section of the local paper.

Google is your friend, you will become well acquainted in the next day or so.  I’m not going to name companies on here.  I had to do it the hard way, so should you.  Well that and the fact that companies specifically ask for discretion.  They work hard to create this illusion, I’m not going to shatter it.  I’m sure deep down most men who are using the lines know you are most likely to be sitting in your pajamas watching Jeremy Kyle and drinking coffee but they want to believe you’re sexually lounging on your bed with your hand down your silky knickers just waiting on them to call, so they do.

I fired off my application to one of the companies I came across.  They seemed legitimate, no upfront fees (never pay anything upfront) and proper numbers and addresses listed.  Soon a woman got in touch, she sounded normal, I sounded surprised!

She took me over what was involved, what they expected from their ops and the rules and regulations.  There are a lot of them, they are very important and I’ll talk about them some other  time.  She then told me I’d be put into 4 categories and I’d have to think of an introduction for all of then.  These categories were hardcore, fetish, grannies and clean.

The woman on the phone ran through a couple of examples.  She used the name Carla which was the name is been thinking of using.  I decided instead to use Carrie.  I’m not sure where it came from but I liked it, it was normal enough to be believable ans amongst all the Trixie, Destiny and Star’s out there I felt that was important.  The woman said to ring back in ten minutes once I’d recorded my intros onto the system.  She gave me numbers to dial and pin codes.  I set to work building my character.

What I do…

Well there’s a lot that I do, so much more than just listening to men wank on the phone but that is all you are going to get to hear about here!

So how does a nice girl (ahem) like me get into the sex industry?  How indeed.  Well I’ve always been a bit of a dirty mare.  I used to phone chat lines as an hormonal teen and was fascinated that men wanted to wank off, listening to me.  It was a chat line where women called in for free but men were charged.  It wasn’t specifically a sex line but it doesn’t take a genius to work out that sex is what is on most men’s minds when they’d take their cock in one hand and their phone in the other.

So, at the tender age of 15 I was getting a sex education way beyond that offered by the likes of More and Just 17 (remember them?)

In time I grew bored with the men, I’d had my fun and even swapped numbers with one guy who would spend hours phoning my mobile.  Weird, fucked up shit really.  Anyway, I then discovered the wonders of the internet and got my fucked up fix of sleaze by trawling internet chat rooms.  Looking back it was total To Catch a Predator territory but I never felt in danger, I was playing the players really.

In amongst all this I did have quite a skewed view of relationships and went through what I shall diplomatically refer to as a promiscuous stage.  That stage lasted a few years until I met the guy I’d go on to marry, almost 11 years ago now. 

Then I left all that behind, with ease.

Mr C and I have always had an adventurous and varied sex life, role play, toys and all the rest of it.  I’d had a few bi experiences in the past which Mr C knew about.  And somewhat unsurprisingly he was turned on hearing about them.  Over time we decided to turn fantasy into reality and started to look for another girl to join us. 

It didn’t take us long to find someone we both liked and we nervously invited her round.  The night sent swimmingly, we had our first threesome.  No drama, jealousy or resentment like countless Dear Derdrie columns had suggested.  Just lots of fun.

We went on to meet another two girls then a couple.  It was the female half of that couple that opened the world of making money with sex (without actually touching anyone) to me.

Picture the scene, a couple of nervous couples enjoying a drink and the fizz of a highly sexually charged atmosphere.  So, what do you do for a living?  The conversation took a turn for the mundane.  Oh I earn about £50 an evening getting my tits out on camera for men she replies casually.