Phone Sex

by reginadee2014

Phone Sex

My first experience with someone trying to include me in their version of phone sex, I was a young mother of a four year old and an infant. I should throw in at this point that when the phone rang, I was holding that infant and she was screaming her head off, so when the pervert whispered various things he wanted to do to me, I didn’t hear a word of it.  While it’s true I was blissfully unaware that the guy on the other end was actually whispering lewd acts he wanted me to perform on him, when I did finally hear him, I was able to catch up to speed really fast. I’m sharp like that.

I often think back to this conversation with amusement.

“I’m sorry.  You’re going to have to speak up.  I can’t hear you.”  I cradled the phone on one shoulder and tried comforting Charity on the other.  Charity was my crier and later my talker.  She was good at both.

My request for him to speak up was followed by slightly louder incoherent strung-together words. Yep. Charity was still crying at the top of her lungs.

By this time I totally frustrated. “I can’t hear you.  You’re going to have to speak louder.” I could write down every time I repeated those words but that would just bore you to tears. Needless to say this was years ago, and I don’t remember exactly how long this went on before Charity stopping crying and the pervert stopped trying to be sexy with his lewd whispering.  I do know that the moment I heard what he wanted, I slapped the receiver down and locked all of my doors.

Flash forward ten years.  My daughters are now both old enough to be in school for the day, when another man with too much time on his hands called me.  At this time in my life, I’m in my senior semester at a local university (late bloomer). By this time we’re living in married housing on campus and I’m trying to get out of the door because I’m running late to my first class.  The phone begins ringing just as I’m gathering my books together to head out. No one but my family ever calls, so I didn’t want to take the chance and not answer in case this was an emergency or something.

“Hello.”

For proprieties sake, I’ll not write the words that came out of this man’s mouth.  Did I panic?  Hell no.  I was running late for class.

My response, “I don’t have time for this shit.”  I slammed the receiver down and went to class, as I had planned to do before the rude interruption.

Why am I telling you all of this, and what does any of it have to do with writing? Okay, here’s my feeble attempt at tying all of this together.  Here’s the lesson I learned from these experiences.  First impressions count. The first line of any book needs to be good enough to keep your readers from slamming the cover shut and saying, “I don’t have time for this shit.”

Yeah, I know.  It’s a stretch but you have to admit that telling a whispering pervert to speak up is kind of funny. I love telling that story.  Now go write a wonderful book, and don’t ever make your readers slam your book shut saying, “I don’t have time for this shit.”

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