CALL OF THE DAY: military service and a younger Geena Davis
“He wants someone in their 50s,” said the dispatcher. Mid-50s? I ask. “Sure,” she says, and I jot down “54” in my notebook. She may get away with talking about her operators being in “their 50s”, but I have to be specific to sell the age convincingly.
When a caller asks for a woman in their 50s, they are either much younger and they’re going for that MILF or GILF experience OR they themselves are in their 50s or older and they are conservative about the age range that they want to be talking to; they want someone who is “age-appropriate” to them. This guy was in the latter category, I could tell from the quality of his voice.
What are you up to? I asked; I could vaguely hear TV or movie noise in the background. “I’m watching a movie,” he said, and I smiled. Porno is usually a great starting point for getting at a new guy’s Things, I mean, it’s unscrolling on the screen right in front of him, right? I get him to tell me what he’s watching, does he like to think about me being the woman in the scene, where would he see himself in the scene, and then usually it just kinda rolls on easily from there. What’s the movie? I asked. “Transylvania Sex 5000.” I repeated the name out loud, and then heard my billet host in the next room, choking back laughter. I didn’t have time to dig into the movie, because the caller moved on right away to asking what I looked like.
(Later I couldn’t find Transylvania Sex 5000, but I did find Transylvania 6-5000, a parody horror movie from the mid-80s staring Jeff Goldblum, Ed Begley Jr, and Geena Davis. Even if the porn-parody version of this were underground, I should think it would still crop up in the first few pages of Google results. So I am inclined to think that I heard him wrong, that was Transylvania 6-5000 on the telly, and my new customer did in fact have his dick out to bad special effects, fog machines, and a much younger Geena Davis in a slinky but still PG-rated PVC vampire dress.)
I gave my usual physical specs, and then asked about him. Some guys start with their height, weight, and the size of their dicks; this guy led with being retired from the military. Being a retired military guy doesn’t tell me anything about his age. I mean, Bilingual Papi is a navy veteran, I think he said once that he was in his mid-50s, and he’s still as energetic as a stallion with raw ginger in his ass. This new guy’s voice sounded a little tired and quavery. I estimated maybe mid-60s or older? At my putative age of 54, I am a younger woman to him!
I asked where he had been stationed, and he said nine years in the SW Pacific and four years in Europe, and then the floodgates fucking opened. “I’ve been all over the world,” he said, proudly, and reeled off all the cities in Italy that he had been to: Naples, Rome, Florence, Genua. He talked about catching the train to Vienna through the Alps—”it was cold but beautiful,” the clichéd praise of the normally inarticulate—and about seeing the world’s largest Ferris wheel there. “It was 367 feet in diameter,” he said without pause. (Why does one remember details like that?)
“I wanted to take my ex-wife there on our anniversary, but she didn’t want to go,” he said. Uh-oh. When people drop their exes in the middle of a call, I listen carefully. That’s a shame, I said. “She never liked to travel,” he said. “I guess her job was more important than me.”
What about Asia? I asked. Where did you go there? Again, he listed a whole slew of place-names, many of which I didn’t recognize, a few I did. “I was in the tough spots in Vietnam, I was at the 38th parallel in Korea. You know about the poplar tree incident?” The… what? I hoped this wasn’t some seriously major historical event that I, as a 54-year-old, would be expected to remember vividly. “The poplar tree incident in Korea.” No. “Well, it was a very tense moment there, at the buffer zone, and I was there. They called in everybody.”
(As it turns out, that incident was in 1976, almost 40 years ago, so yeah, he was at least mid-60s.)
Wow, I said, and took a breath. This conversation was going somewhere, but it wasn’t going anywhere useful. So, listen, I have to let you know, we have about three minutes left. “What are you wearing?” he asked.
Okay, now we’re back into familiar territory.
Where else can you learn about American military history, bad horror-movie parodies, and phone sex procedures? Nowhere else but here! Support my writing by becoming a patron on Patreon!