It’s the damndest thing: my own brother sent me an email about a phone sex career.  I left him a phone message, asking him if he’s pissed at me for some particular reason (he was mentioned in an essay I recently wrote and published, his part being in a not-so favorable light—then again, the story took place over thirty years ago).  I haven’t heard from him since he sent the phone sex thingy. 

I’m seriously considering the profession.  After all, what does it take but a generous imagination and a good (as in sexy and beguiling) phone voice?  This morning I mention it to a male friend and he immediately jumps on the bandwagon, with the intention of helping me decide if it’s the right thing for me to do *(yeah, right).

Robert/as anonymous caller (dear reader, don’t yank your brain and try to finger out who this guy is—there are a slew of Robert’s in my life, currently): Good morning, Ms. Ruthie, I’ve never done a thing like this, before—this is my first time.  How do we begin?

Ruthie: Well, guy, what turns you on?

Robert: Well whatever turns you on, dear lady.

Ruthie: Inviting you into my bed and I am buck naked...making you feel great...sliding my tongue across your neck, moving it into your ear, kissing you gently and slowly...taking off your shirt...

Robert: Ooooh....yeah.

Ruthie: Sending your shirt over the king-sized bouncy brass bed...glimpsing it sail...fondling your chest, tenderly touching your nipples...kissing them...then down, down, down, in slow motion...moving to your belly with sweet, wet-ish kisses...my hands against your skin, melting together...

Robert: (moan)

Ruthie, continuing: ...slowly, yet with firmness pressing on your lower belly...moving my hand inside your pants...

Robert: (groan)

Ruthie: Feeling your fullness, growing larger, pulsing in my hand...mmmmmm...putting my other hand into your pants, tenderly yet firmly holding on to your jewels while I stroke you up and down, up and down, up and down...until you are bursting your pants and I unzip you, pulling your pants off (ooooh, you don’t have undies on!) you sexy man, you...you complete tiger you...oh, my (sounding breathless)...you are soooo large and thick and beautiful...

Robert: Are you getting as wet as I am?  Let’s throw your panties and see if they will stick to the wall...

Ruthie: You know, Robert, I’m home from my walk.  I’ve gotta go write those spiritual children’s stories that I’ve been telling you about.  Can we talk another time? 

Sure as the sun...as Eli Siegel wrote: “In reality opposites are one; art shows this.”  Tending to the rawness of others’ sex fantasies over the phone (this way there’s no worry of disease), making a living to be able to write my spiritual children’s books. Hmmmm...this really isn’t rocket science.  Where is that sex phone email, anyway?