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ASK A PHONE WHORE: what are you wearing?

ASK A PHONE WHORE is a semi-regular feature, appearing whenever I get a good question. Anything you want to know about my phone work, ask away! Make sure to read through the archives here to see if I've already addressed your question in a previous post, or to see if I've written about something already and you have follow-up questions. I may set up a separate page here to solicit questions, or maybe just put a widget up, but for now I'll be running my mail bag over on Facebook.

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My socks are soooo soft, mmmmm.....

Q. What are you wearing?

Like, actually wearing? T-shirt and pajama bottoms, straight up. If it's cold, I'll have on a hoodie and fuzzy socks. If it's hot, the only thing that'll be on is the ceiling fan. But mostly, T-shirt and pajama bottoms.

My clients ask that question, too, but the answer isn't always, or even mostly, what you'd think. I know, high heels and stockings and that whole thing, right? Nope. Not for me, mostly because of the persona I have. I'm a "mature woman", just that. I do a lot of different roles in that genre, but I'm supposed to be able to rock everything from strict teacher to inexperienced, slightly ditzy, "hang on, let me get the potatoes out of the oven" MILF. I'm not billed as a dominatrix or anything; I don't think my company specifically promotes any one operator. Generally, I think they put us out there as "real women".

So, when a client, especially a new one, asks what I'm wearing, I keep it "real": Oh, I'm just getting ready to do some errands/pick up the kids/see a friend on a coffee date. I'm wearing boots and a knee-length denim skirt, bra and panties. Haven't got on my sweater yet, but it's pretty low-cut. And... there you go. It's real enough for "real"—getting ready to go out, because I'm really real and I do real things out in the real world!—but still sexy, because I'm not all the way dressed yet.

Sometimes I'll "dress up" a little more, like if it's a cuckold call and I say I'm getting ready to go out. I'll mention that my husband picked out the short tight dress that I'm going out in. Other people have specific items they want to hear about, like the white sneakers or the white panties; these guys get special notes on their index cards, and if they ask, I know at least one piece of clothing for sure.

Occasionally I'll dress down for those few callers who, owing to the type of call and regularity of contact, get more of the "realness". Bilingual Papi is one such caller. Today he asked what I was wearing, and I mentally subtracted my worn-out pink kitty pajama pants and the non-matching navy blue hoodie and told him the rest: t-shirt and panties and fuzzy socks. That's pretty sexy, in the cute, baby-girl way that he usually likes.

"Really?" he asked.

Really, I said and immediately hedged, but you know I can put on anything else you'd like.

"No, fuck it," he said, "I would just want you to take all of it off anyway."

See, that's the thing. Eventually almost everyone imagines it all off. It's how I get there that's the trick. No, that's the fun part. How I figure out how to get there, that's the trick.

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