my ideal client
I have preferences in clients, of course. In my current work situation I don’t get to use those preferences in any way that might benefit me. I don’t control my marketing, nor do I get to select or screen who I talk to. But I still have the preferences. I keep them in the little break room of my mind, where the worker me goes to hang out when things get weird. There, up on that metaphorical bulletin board, I pin special moments, and lines from my favorite customers, and little sound bytes. To remind myself, you know.
The guy I did yesterday is on that bulletin board. He is a gentleman from North Carolina, with a soft, high-pitched, almost delicate voice, who likes to talk about the women he spends time with over at a brothel a half-hour away. “They like me there because I love pussy,” he says, claiming that they will let him eat them out for free on Sundays because it’s usually slow and he’s that good.
If I had to come up with a nickname, I would call him the Sniffer. He likes smells, all the smells: well-fucked, unwashed cunt, pee, sweat, ass crack, body odor. (I compared him to a wine enthusiast and called him a connoisseur; he loved it.) He also likes hirsute women, with unshaven pussies—”it holds the smells in better”—and hairy assholes and armpits and legs and hair goin’ up the belly. He likes cellulite, jiggly asses and thighs. And he likes older women, MILFs on up to 70-year-old ladies. In fact, the Sniffer seems to be drawn directly to all the things that our society tells us aren’t sexy, and he goes into marvelous detail about his enjoyment, with gusto and little exclamations of delight.
Even when he comes, he can describe what is happening with his feeling; “it’s going up my spine and trickling down my forehead like beads of ice water.” I mean, that’s fantastic The Sniffer is so detailed and enthusiastic that he actually freaks my boss out a little bit. This is funny to me, considering the other callers that we handle. And on that little checklist pad of preferences, he just goes tick, tick, tick, right down the list:
SELF-AWARE. My preferred client has spent some time figuring out what they want. They pay attention to the stuff in their own head. If they like something that is illegal, they are obviously aware of the differences between actuality and fantasy, and they are comfortable navigating that line, which leads me to ….
UNASHAMED. They do not waste any of their precious minutes circling around their fantasy, or coming up with something else to supposedly throw me off the trail, or excusing it or avoiding it.
HEDONISTIC. They are going for the sensations and experiences and fantasies that they truly enjoy. They are having fun with it, not only with the fantasy, but with the phone call itself, and with me. They love their orgasms, too, and have created the space around the call where they can come as loud as they want.
COMMITTED. They really throw themselves into it. If they step outside of the experience at all, they do it cleanly and explain themselves—”hang on, honey, I need to go check on the ribs in the slow cooker”—and then step right back in.
ARTICULATE. Phone sex happens through the words and sounds. When I have to make all the words, it is a performance, with all the burden that entails. When they contribute, and do it well, it’s less a performance and more a dance.
Strange as it sounds, I love to dance with the Sniffer.