My Start in Phone Sex: The Classified Ad

This is the story of how I came to be involved in the phone sex industry:

The year was 1993, and I was in my second Sophomore year in college in a state school in a relatively small and somewhat seedy city in Massachusetts. I was at the tail-end of a stint as a night cashier at a convenience store in a moderately scary part of town. Having recently experienced a "stick-up" (woohoo! scary at the time but funny to reflect upon), I decided it was time for a career change. I browsed the classified section of the Telegram and Gazette, and there began my life as an Erotic Telephone Entertainer.

I don't remember the exact wording of the ad to which I responded, but it was something like this: "Work at home! Sexy, creative and open-minded women needed for adult telephone service."

I circled the ad. I didn't call the number listed in the ad - yet. I set the paper at the top of a pile of other papers on my desk. I went to class. I came home. I looked at the paper, and picked up the phone. I hung it back up.

My boyfriend came home. "I saw an ad for phone sex operators in the T&G today," I told him.

He laughed.

I said, "I think I am going to apply! I'd get to work at home."

"You couldn't do that," he said.

"Yes I could! I'm creative...and my voice is nice, isn't it? I've got a good imagination...why couldn't I do it?" I asked.

"Come on! You can't even say the word 'pussy'. You call your pussy your 'private parts'. How are you going to talk dirty to men on the phone if you can't even say 'pussy'?"

He was right. I did use the term "private parts", and even now! 12 years and thousands of phone calls and tens of thousands of utterances of the P word, I still can't use that word when talking about MY OWN...when I'm not on the phone.

But that didn't stop me.

"I can too say 'pu...' um....'pussss...'"

I turned red.

I took a deep breath. I can do this, I can do this, I thought.

In the time it took to utter one two-syllable word, a monumental moment occurred that would change the entire course of my life, and would lead to many discussions with my mother on the subject of why she remortgaged her house to send me to college when the job I would ultimately devote my life to required no proof of formal education.

"PUSSY!!" I exclaimed.

My boyfriend laughed. "You are so silly," he said.

I'll show YOU silly, I thought to myself. I walked over to my desk, grabbed the classifieds, picked up the phone, and dialed the number.