Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Love, The English Language, And Not Completely Pretending

In my off-phone life, I have a male lover who shares my views on love. When he launched into what he called his  "Love Speech", I thought it was a practical joke, that somehow he had heard my "Love and the English Language" rant and was making fun of me. No, we just have pretty much identical views on love. Here's how our rants go, when combined:

There is an Eskimo language with twelve words for snow, yet the English language has only one word for love, which is clearly grossly inadequate. We use it to describe how we feel about ice cream, lovers, our parents, our children, our pets, a life partner, or a pair of shoes. When someone says, "I love you" in English, it is almost meaningless without further explanation.

Greek has 4 words for love, which is a little better: one for erotic love (eros); one for the love of family or close friends or a close family-like community (philia); one for the type of naturally protective affection that healthy parents have for their children (storge); and one catch-all love that conveys a pure, selfless, honoring type of love, as in religious adoration, but could also be used to describe one's feelings for a fantastic meal where you would not expect the meal to give anything back to you other than just being itself (agape).

The religious tradition of my upbringing had a movement when I was in elementary school, with the theme of "Love is not a feeling." Love, I was taught, should not describe how you feel about someone, but instead, how you act towards them. If you are willing to put forth effort to be helpful to someone else, that is being loving, showing love, having love. Love could happen anywhere you were willing to create it.

As a young adult in therapy, I refined that for myself a bit, although I continued to embrace the basic idea. My definition of love is approximately: I love you if I am willing to take action (a) that will not harm me and (b) that I believe will result in good for you. If I'm willing to harm myself for you, I'm martyring myself for you, which is almost never a good idea. If I'm acting in ways that I believe will harm you, I'm not being loving in that moment. And if I theoretically want the best for you but am unwilling to put forth any effort on your behalf, it's just affection, but that's not love.

I grew up with an ever-changing array of step-family members (between 3 and 12, my parents divorced, my mom remarried once, and my dad remarried twice). So "family" was transitory, and divorces did not necessarily cancel out the feeling of having been family (I'm still in touch with ex-step-siblings). I didn't love my existing cousins less because I got new cousins, or my existing Mom less because I got new ones.

I understood on a deep level that love is not a pie: when you use some, there isn't less for everyone else. Love is more like a wellspring, or a river, or an ocean: if you use some, just as much remains.

It's not surprising to me, then, that I'm not a monogamous person. The character of Angela on the TV show "Bones" was once told, "You've just never met the love of your life" and she responded earnestly, "Yes, I have, dozens of times." Exactly, you gorgeous sexy hunk of woman, you. Exactly.

I shared a fantasy this morning with a caller, we'll call him "Doc Cupid", who is not dominant in his life, but likes being dominant during sex. Our role plays have always involved him pushing, directing, punishing for "mistakes", and making me earn favors. He's never let me kiss him before.

But Doc was exhausted this morning, and just wanted something quick, simple, and... well... romantic by comparison. He wrapped me up against him and fucked me slowly and deeply, and said in a husky voice so soft I could barely make it out, "You can tell me you love me this time. Just this once." So I did, whispered against his lips, afraid he'd change his mind and punish me for it. He didn't.

It has stuck with me. Of course, it's not a traditional, societally acceptable form of love. Of course not. We're not making plans to meet in person. I'm not leaving my husband for him. He could choose to never communicate with me again, and, although I would wonder how he is from time to time when I reviewed old notes, I would survive unscathed.

But this morning, I heard the exhaustion in his voice, and I chose to meet him there, and I wanted to comfort him, and I chose to act on his behalf in a way that did not harm me one bit, in a way that I hoped would help him, and it felt, for a moment, like love. It wasn't a lie.

"Gravely Moon" has been falling asleep to the sound of my voice lately. He's told me that he knows that I'm "not completely real." And yet, when he ends our calls, he says, "Good night, love." It feels the same, that's it's not a lie, and that it's not completely pretend. Maybe tonight, after writing this and mulling about it, if he calls, I'll finally say it back to him.

I wonder if I'll ever stop being fascinated by this job.

Readers Rock

My husband is a genetic mutation in his family by about 20 IQ points. His cousins made fun of him for being "a reader." As in, someone who enjoys reading. I loved him even more for being utterly addicted to words in the face of adversity.

When I started this blog, with the intention of exposing and exploring every aspect of the phone sex part of my life (and the phone sex part of my life involves a lot of me), I hoped that people who read my blog would bring a deeper connection back to phone conversations, and that it would enhance both of us.

Oh yeah, I was right. Readers rock.

My first reader-call backwash was shortly after Tip For Phone Sex Callers when a lusciously deep, slightly gruff voice greeted me by saying, "The blog said you hate having to guess who's calling you... let's see how good you are at it." My heart leapt into my throat, pounding, and my palms started sweating. And then I guessed wrong. WRONG. Have I mentioned how much I dislike being wrong?!? Grrrrr. Thankfully, he gave me other hints while I floundered, and I figured it out. Whew! Then I realized it... you JERK it had been two whole weeks since he had called me, and he still made me GUESS who he was. I have other callers with delicious gruff voices, you know! GRRRR. /slap. It was mock-anger, but I did think, "Oh shit, maybe I've made a mistake by revealing so much in the blog."

The most intense interaction was the morning I wrote Wet Dream Morning. I was crawling out of my skin wanting to be fucked, and blogged about it (semi-incoherently, I realize now when I re-read it... embarrassing!), and I was indeed rescued by a Knight in Shining Armor who took the edge off for me, helped me go about my day in a much less addled state. If I hadn't blogged about it, it probably would have been a couple of hours before anybody called, and it wouldn't have been the same level of focused intensity. I've seriously considered lying and writing another one of those because it turned out so well! But no, it wouldn't be the same. I'll just treasure the memory of that one instead. Best blog entry outcome ever. Thank you again, Knight /blowkiss

Then Saturday I got a mail from a gent who claimed to have read my whole blog - from the first post to the last - all in one big rush. What an honor! As I told him, I always thought that anybody who would read my entire blog before calling me would probably end up being a favorite long-term relationship. Then we both realized the enormous pressure I had just put on both of us, and I was laughing and saying, "Oh, great, now what if I suck and you hate me for wasting all your time?" and he was laughing and saying, "What if I'm totally boring?" Note to self: don't do that again! But no, FAR from being boring, he outlined a fantasy and specifically incorporated ideas from the blog in the hopes that I would be engaged (he figured out how to have me constantly ask him, "Is this ok? Do you like this? Is this what you want?") . So he got his fantasy, and I got a constant stream of reinforcing feedback, and together, it was, to quote him, WONDERFUL.

But last night was the one I didn't expect. Someone left me a stream of comments on blog entries, and I can't figure out who it is! If it's a caller I've had, he's obfuscating well. But I think it's someone who has not called me before, and now I'm DYING to talk to him. Of course, this happens on a week when I have a bunch of personal commitments and I'm logging in sporadically. Of course. Because we all know how much I love drawn-out waiting games that require patience. Oh, wait, no, you don't know that - I HATE THEM. Well, okay, maybe 25% of me is amused and aroused by the cat-and-mouse game, but most of the cast of characters in my Inner Dialogue are just annoyed that we have to wait to meet the mystery commenter. You don't want to piss off actors, trust me. Then tantrums are thrown, furniture is tossed about... it gets ugly.

I'm looking forward to more phonesex-to-blog-to-phone sex interactions. Rock on, readers! \m/

Weight, Weight, I Got This

Since I gorged on fondue tonight celebrating a friend's upcoming wedding, it's a good time to write about my weight.

I was always thin - flat tummy and all - until I was 22. I got told I was cute a lot. I'll let you judge for yourself - this is my passport picture taken a few months after I turned 18, when I was home from college for Thanksgiving my freshman year. That is how I still picture myself in my head, a size 6 or 8, about 65 pounds lighter than I am now.

Between the ages of 22 and 25, I: took a desk job instead of jobs that kept me on my feet, stopped going dancing weekly, went on birth control, and quit smoking. Unsurprisingly, I gained about a pound per month.

I also stopped putting on makeup regularly because I'm lazy, and started wearing my glasses daily instead of contacts, because Chicago is not kind to contacts, and I scratched my corneas one time too many from letting my eyes dry out (please see: "I'm lazy"). It didn't start as a conscious decision to conform less to societal standards of beauty, but that's essentially what I did.

And a funny thing happened: random sexual attention stopped being hurled at me from men I didn't know. I realized one day when a stranger expressed interest in me on the train that (a) it had been weeks or months since anyone had done that and (b) the guy expressing interest seemed smarter, more thoughtful, and generally more attractive than the ass hats who normally wolf-whistled and one-lined at me.

By 24, I was conscious enough of what was happening that I was explaining to friends and family that I had figured out how to successfully avoid the attention of any guy stupid enough to use the term "fat chicks" -- by becoming one.

Honestly, it was kind of a relief. I didn't feel as bombarded by the world. I didn't need to be constantly on guard. I didn't need to stifle smiles or avoid eye contact to sidestep confrontations with jerks who insisted, "You gotta give me your number, cuz you're so hot!" (ummm, what exactly is in that for me?) Thirty pounds and a pair of glasses and no makeup, and I was suddenly the female version of Clark Kent, unmemorable for any but the most astute observer.

I plateaued at size 16-18 (XL) at about age 26, where I have been ever since. That size is statistically average for the United States, but considered "large" in the dating / swinger world. So I figured I should put my listing in BBW when I started doing phone sex work six weeks ago.

Two things have happened since then: (1) I've learned that BBW is larger than just XL in the adult entertainment industry, so I don't really belong in BBW, and (2) I've been dropping weight... ten pounds in the past six weeks. Hilarious! So I moved my main listing from "BBW" to "Sex", where it's probably more at home.

I'm not dieting. I'm naturally dropping the weight in a basically healthy way: when I'm logged in for phone sex, I don't go out to eat as often, and I eat by snacking between calls. So I basically have ten handful-sized meals per day, across the basic food groups, plus vitamins to make sure I don't get leg cramps or rickets if I accidentally don't balance my diet. And I'm elevating my heart rate by masturbating multiple times a day. Seriously. I dunno if it helps, but it couldn't hurt, right?

I'm happy about the weight coming off naturally because I would love to be a little healthier. I would like to be able to go a steady mile at a very fast walk or a slow jog, but I'm not quite there yet. Having less weight is less long-term strain on my back, which I care about now after I injured my back in April.

But I really don't care what my body looks like in terms of being attractive. Everybody is somebody's fetish, and I think sexy is much more about attitude than shape. And at every size, once I say, "I love fucking," I can get plenty of male sexual attention and affirmation. Yay for being a woman!

Well, except... except for one thing. There's one reason I'm hesitant to lose weight. I... I... I don't wanna lose my boobs. My boobs now are boobs I would love on another woman, and I don't want them to shrink. That makes me shallow, doesn't it?

Monday, August 30, 2010

Day Off (Mostly)

As I was catching up on the administrative overhead that I've created for myself, I kept getting great calls last night, so I ended up staying awake until almost 3 a.m.!

So today started late. Like... noon late. Spectacular.

I have dinner plans at 5:30, plus a healthy list of life-chores, so I figured I might just be online for an hour or two before dinner. Until a friend called and needs to get to the airport for a family emergency. So now, it's the whole day offline. It feels weird.

I might be on after dinner, but we're going to the Melting Pot, so I may just be so hedonistically satisfied (cheese! chocolate! friends!) that I feel selfish and call it a decadently early night. We'll see. By then it will have been almost 24 hours since my last phone orgasm, and I'm not sure I can go that long!

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Memory and Notes

I'm trying to use what I learned as a business woman, technical consultant, and personnel manager in this job. So from the beginning, I've taken notes on every call. I combine the info I get from the system with my personal notes in a spreadsheet so I can search and sort my little heart out.

So that gives me username, date and time, and length of call from the system, and name given to me, whether or not I've sent a follow-up mail, and what I jot down when the call is over from my notes.

It's not a perfect system. Sometimes I forget names - I've always been bad with names, and I have about 60 seconds to repeat it or write it before it's gone forever. Sometimes I forget to take notes because as the call ends (especially if it's a longer call), I'm hungry or have to go to the bathroom, and then I get another call, and then it's three calls later, and I can't remember back that far. Sometimes I don't send after-call emails until a week later, and then it feels awkward to send them, so sometimes I just don't.

(Please, God, don't let my mother read that last sentence - she doesn't care that I fuck men over the phone but NO WAY would she forgive me not sending thank you notes!!)

And, like with every job, the system I use to track my work has morphed to become increasingly more efficient and helpful. I used to take notes during calls on paper in my phone sex bedroom (some would call it a guest room, but since it's littered with sex toys and phones, we call it the "Fuckatorium." No, I'm not kidding.)

But transferring hand-written notes to the spreadsheet on my laptop in the TV room got tedious, and I started wishing my notes were with me on calls. So I brought the laptop into the Fuckatorium. Then I re-did the format... ummm... four times so far? That's about right.

So now, I can look up names pretty quickly. But if all you give me is "Jeff", well, I've had 3 of those. And I haven't figured out yet how to ask, "Which Jeff?" without risking being offensive or rude or awkward, so I find myself flipping through Jeffs while he's talking, and eventually narrow it down. At that point, I have notes, but I also remember.

I'm much better remembering stories than names. My notes may say "ex-gf liked monster cock gang bangs" but I remember why you broke up with her, the site where you showed me how big those cocks were, the fact that you *hired* those guys instead of Craigslisting them, and how exactly I helped you relive those searingly erotic memories that you can't seem to shake. Those details were not in the notes, but the story sticks with me. It lingers.

Sadly, not every call, and not every story. Of course, some fall away, and I don't remember the experience that led me to write that note. In those cases, I get back up to speed as quickly as possible and remind myself to take better notes after this call.

But the ones that do linger? I find myself at dinner with friends, mulling delicious memories of shared adventures in much the same way I mull real-time memories. I don't think my brain cares about the difference.

I have the most awesome job. Seriously. I do.

The Battle of the Sexes

I'm pretty sure I screwed up a call tonight.

Phone sex between a male caller and a female operator seems to have a default dynamic: the man is trying to cum, and the woman is trying to keep him on the phone longer. This dynamic goes along with each party's financial best interests.

So when anyone tells me they want to have lots of details, I'm a little nervous about how far to slow down the pace. Really? Because, you know, juicy details cost you money!

Usually, I think I handle it fine by flying by the seat of my intuition... wait, no, that's a mixed... something or other. I might be too sleepy to be blogging.

But tonight I think I erred on the side of caution, and ended up with an unsatisfied caller who was looking for more lingering, soaking, settling in. Instead, he probably felt rushed. And I didn't want to forget this, so I'm blogging about it.

I sent him an email offering to make it right next time, but I'm disappointed in myself.

And a little confused... How exactly did I end up backwards in the battle of the (phone) sexes?

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Feedback Slut

Hello, I'm Galiana. And I'm a Feedback Slut. (Helloooooo Galiana!)

Yes, of course, I love the official feedback - the kind that raises my ratings, bumps me up listings, and gives me a permanent pick-me-up (my "My Feedback" page is where I go when I haven't had a call for 3 hours to remind myself that sometimes people call me and like talking with me). That feedback is obviously beneficial, and I love it a LOT.

My favorite official feedback has to be from phonejack35 who said, "I never talk to girls after i cum but i talked to Galiana for awhile...could have talked all day. Such an awesome body...think i'm in love:)" Awwwww - there's even a smiley face! How could I not love that SO MUCH?

The positive official feedback also led to one of my favorite conversation-starters, from a gentleman I'll call "Perv Card", who started our first phone call by saying, "I've been reading your feedback, and, well, frankly, I'd be kind of a dumbass not to call." Thank goodness I wasn't drinking anything when he said that, or I would have spit it all over the place from laughing so hard!

But my other craving is real-time feedback. It takes everything in me to keep from asking these questions constantly: Is this okay? Are you enjoying yourself? What can I improve? What else can I be doing? Do I need to pick up the pace? Slow down and give more lingering details?

Sometimes I break down and ask, but never more than once per conversation. On calls where I'm submissive, I'll beg to be told I'm a good pet/slave/slut. On calls where I'm in charge, I'll make them tell me how turned on they are, or ask what they want more of (and then toy with that a bit... I do relish a good cat and mouse dynamic). If the call is interrupted to add more time, when we come back, I might ask "Is this what you want? Anything I need to shift?" before we restart.

And at the end of calls, I frequently invite callers to let me know before our next call if they want anything differently. If I know, I can adjust: I can get meaner, sweeter, nastier, faster, slower, louder, softer, breathier, more intense, beg more, panic less, talk less (Ummmm... Hmmmm. Really? You can talk less? Wellllll. Maybe. Sometimes. Although now that I think of it, "Bondage J" did keep having to tighten my gag... He said it was cute when I tried to talk, though, so I didn't know whether to keep trying to talk, or give up and just whimper... It's confusing sometimes!).

So yes, I crave adjustment feedback, whether it's direct, "Galiana, actually, maybe talk dirtier to me and call me more names" or subtle-in-character, "Now just calm down, Galiana, we'll work out a way for you to pass the semester, but just stop panicking and breathe." Or after the fact, so I can take notes to jog my memory  for next time (yes, I will read your notes to you if you ask!)

But also, of course, I crave the positive real-time feedback. "Good girl" or "That was fantastic" or "Damn, I just made a huge mess over here, wow."

Or of course, the very best: "I can't wait to call you again." /melt

Friday, August 27, 2010

Back Up!!

Yeeeeeehawwwwww! My listings are out of the dreaded "pending" status and back to "approved"! Whew, what a relief! More exclamation points!!!!!!

(and for my WoW geek boys... OMGWTFBBQROFLCOPTER!!!11!1!!11!!ELEVEN!!! /giggle ... switch to  Murloc costume... /dance ... because really, the murloc costume dance is just the best EVAR)

SO - that means I'm showing up in searches and favorite/recent lists again.

YAY I'm so happy! And a special thanks to you guys who showed up to help me through my slump!

What I Want: Honesty

My "Butt Slut" asked me some thought-provoking questions when we were getting to know each other, figuring out if I was the right Mistress for him. The most helpful to me were, "What do you want out of a submissive / client / caller?" and "What kind of person do you hope shows up for you?" The answers, of course, are interlaced.

What I want, first and foremost, is honesty. I don't care what you tell me or what you withhold, but I want to feel the honesty in what you do share. When you tell me what turns you on and what you want from me, I want to hear your breath catch, your voice intensify.

When I ask if I'm pleasing you, don't lie. Not even one little bit. When you tell me what you liked, or what I can do better next time (yes! please! do! really!), I want to feel it reverberate inside you. If we've always started our calls with pleasant chats for a few minutes, but today you just want to fucking toss me against a wall and have your way with me, go for it. Please. Seriously. Yum.

Does honesty rule out role play? HECK NO. I loooooove me some pretending, but in those pretend spaces, I want honesty in what you're feeling. For example, "Agent Jones" and I had a scrumptious role play where I was a femme fatale cat burglar who he caught in his office. I knew I was going to be arrested, so I begged him to give me one last good solid fucking before I went away. As I was begging and he was teasing, he kept asking me who I worked for, and my story kept changing, so obviously, in the role play, I was lying my ass off to him. But there was honest amusement in the banter, and honest begging from me because I was getting turned on, and honest pleasure and lust from both of us.

Of course, honesty is reciprocal: If someone pauses mid-role-play and asks an honest question, I give an honest answer. Yes, I'm touching myself, or no I'm not. Yes, this is turning me on, or no it's not my thing but I'm loving how turned on you are! Yes, I really just came, or ... ummm... wait, why would I lie about that when I can have multiple orgasms in a day?

I mean sure, I've faked orgasms on quickie calls where the first words were "Suck it baby", because clearly that's what is being implicitly requested. But if someone is looking for an honest interchange of sexual energy with me, I'm there.

(Oh, dear. Now you're all going to start calls with "Suck it baby", aren't you? You totally are. *sigh*)

Most of all, I love when you're honest about what you want. When you've got an idea all tangled up inside you, waiting to be fleshed out with a responsive partner. My ego loves knowing that you chose me, that you wanted to share it with me, that you trusted me with that craving. And afterwards, I want to know if I did well, if I co-created with you in a way that satisfied your hunger.

So what kind of honesty is that? It's not disclosure honesty, because there are tons of things you'll never tell me and I don't care -- like, for starters, your full name. And it's not literal situational honesty, because that would rule out role plays.

I guess it's emotional honesty - I crave the honest truth about how you feel. So. that's the first thing I want. Emotional honesty.

More answers to What I Want in other posts.

Wet Dream Morning

Wow. I had a helluva dream and now I'm all revved up and nobody's here to fuck me. Dammit.

I was drunk in this club and this guy came over and just pulled me close and started running his hands all over me, and I asked him if his car was big enough to fuck in and he said yes. So we abandoned our drinks and headed to his car - sort of - but we made out in the street on the way there and he felt under my skirt that I didn't have panties on and I was all wet. And then in the car it had this bench thing instead of seats, like a limo, but in an SUV, and he sat back and I sucked him off hard and fast... 

And then I woke up. WOKE. UP. Without getting off. Fuck. 

Someone better call me and wanna hear me cum. Soon. Masturbating alone takes forever and it's not nearly much as fun and never as satisfying and I can tell I'm in one of those moods where it wouldn't be enough anyway. I wanna wrap my legs around someone else's fantasy and let their voice take me someplace rough and juicy and hot and cum so fucking hard... grrrrr. 

Fuck. Maybe after coffee I'll be able to slide all this lust to the back of my mind... why is my hub out this morning and my lover unavailable and my listings are still pending so probably it'll be slow on the phones and... uggggghhhhh why are all the cocks out of reach right now? FUCK. 

Thursday, August 26, 2010

New To Me: Erotic Hypnotism

Do you know much about erotic hypnotism? A month ago, I knew nothing.

The only time I've been successfully hypnotized was by a licensed hyno-therapist in an office in my mid-20s. It helped me successfully quit smoking for a couple of years in my 20s (FYI: I haven't smoked since 2006). But there was nothing erotic about the encounter.

Then I met "Tea Man", "Jonas", "Agent Jones", and "Hypno Tickler". I suspect I'll meet more. All four of them wanted to erotically hypnotize me. None of them completely succeeded, but it was damn fun to try.

First, I went to Tea Man's office to interview to market their new line of herbal teas... and left the office feeling refreshed, and peculiarly sexually satisfied. I'm pretty sure there was a blow job in there somewhere in between. Tea Man knew for sure it was all fantasy.

Then Jonas tranced me and gave me the trigger word "Freeze" which caused me not to be able to move any muscles except the ones needed to talk. We got cut off by system glitches before we got further than just me begging to be released, but apparently I was enticing doing that. Jonas wasn't sure if I was under or not, but there were enough clues that he wasn't worried about me being permanently frozen.

Ah, Agent Jones. Although his primary job is as a spy, his cover-up job as a hypno-therapist affords him the opportunity to sometimes help lovely ladies with their anxiety issues by helping them relax. And then channeling all their naughty sexual urges into an alternate persona, who is summoned in a full-fledged sex kitten heat by the Doctor saying "Rachel, darling". And then released back into Galiana Chance's mild mannered, slightly anxious, buttoned up ways by saying "Chance, darling". Don't you just love the "darling" in there? I totally and utterly do. Agent Jones knew we were playing, but we both enjoyed the game a lot.

Mmmm, the Hypno Tickler. He got me the closest of the four. I remembered everything, I could hear things other than his voice, and I could move more than I should have been able to, so I wasn't fully hypnotized. But I was deeply relaxed, and I was having genuine physiological responses - twitches, giggles, and erotic responses - that felt somewhat involuntary. It was very relaxing and extremely fun. AND - if he calls back, we're going to work on me getting over my fear of being tickled (instilled when I was pinned down and tickled until I puked ... it was an unfortunate accident). It would be great for tickling to be erotic for me!

What do you think? Is erotic hypnotism hot for you? Or just baffling? Would you let someone try?

New To Me: My Dominant Side

I learned about BDSM (Bondage/Discipline; Domination/Submission; Sadism/Masochism) by reading BDSM erotica and being massively turned on by stories about giving up control and being restrained.

I found a few great partners to experiment with, and sure enough, I loved being submissive! For me, the best part is the ability to let go with my mind.

I think a lot. I'm a smart girl, and my brain is always going, 90 miles an hour, with at least four thoughts at a time. And pretty much the only way to shut off my thinker is to flood my body with sex hormones. And the first way I found to really saturate myself that way was by being fully under the control of someone who was topping me by exploring, abusing, and testing me.

So in my physical sex life, either I'm submissive or we're sharing control. But I've fantasized about truly dominating someone else for a long time, I've just never taken it far enough to find a lover who wanted to be topped.

And then came phone sex work! Apparently it's common to call submissive listings to find a Domme, because bottoms understand what other subs want. I found myself explaining that I didn't have much dominant experience, but callers asked me try anyway... and it kept working out fine!

Turns out, I LOVE guiding masturbation, tying a man down and using him as a sex toy, "forcing" bisexuality, using my strap-on (well, I knew that one already, actually), role playing cuckold scenarios, and calling in my black friends with giant cocks to join me in being served.

I've even figured out how to do humiliation... sort of. Someone has to ask for it specifically, because being mean doesn't come naturally to me. I'm learning though!

So today I put up a new Mistress listing at NiteFlirt - my first $1.99/min listing:
http://www.niteflirt.com/listings/show/9471435 (1-800-TO-FLIRT  x 94-71-435)
I'd love to know what you think of it, especially those of you who have served Me!

Or if you want to call my existing $1.49/min listing:
http://www.niteflirt.com/listings/show/9467341 (1-800-TO-FLIRT  x 94-67-341)

All the best -
Mistress Galiana /grin

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Terms Of Service Violation

Despite switching pictures yesterday to AVOID a Terms of Service violation (TOS), all my listings are now in the dreaded "pending" status anyway.

What does "pending" mean? It means you can still call me… if you know the URL or the extension. But I don't show up in the searches until I get re-approved. /sadface /pout

What happened? I made a newbie mistake in the language I had when offering my Chat IDs for sale. OOPS!

For your convenience, here are my extensions and URLs.

Hope to talk with you soon!

Galiana

Women Home Alone - Sex:
     http://www.niteflirt.com/listings/show/9467341
     1-800-TO-FLIRT extension: 94-67-341
Fetish - Submissive Women:
     http://www.niteflirt.com/listings/show/9470438
     1-800-TO-FLIRT extension: 94-70-438
Fetish - Spanking:
     http://www.niteflirt.com/listings/show/9463381
     1-800-TO-FLIRT extension: 94-63-381

The Banned Picture

Evil picture being evil
I forgot to include the picture that got banned in my last blog post. Here is it.

Really? That's against TOS?

I like it because I have my glasses on, it shows the ridiculous toy collection I've amassed (well, a very small part of it /blush), and the expression can either be submissive or dominant depending on your fantasy. Either I can be about to drop to my knees and hand that to someone to smack me with it, or I'm about to start issuing training commands. It's kind of fill-in-the-blanks. Nice fantasy fodder, I hope.

I also like it because that I'm holding the bamboo spoon that I really smack with over the phone. It's stingy and slappy enough to deliver genuinely shocking sensation - and GREAT sound - but it's dispersed enough for the effects to dissipate quietly after about 30 minutes.

Best. Tool of the Trade. EVER.

The Kindness Of Strangers

In Streetcar Named Desire, a battered Blanche DuBois comments as she is being escorted to the looney bin, "I have always relied on the kindness of strangers." The audience weeps for her, remembering her abuse at the hands of a non-stranger, and her illustrious history as a glamorous sex worker, and thinks, "Well, ain't that the truth."

So now in my job as a phone sex operator (PSO), I also rely on the kindness of strangers. Someone who does not know me in real life needs to listen to my voice for 15 seconds, or read 7000 characters or less of HTML, and decide they are willing to pay to talk with me in order for me to succeed.

The kindness of my phone partners (some of whom no longer feel like strangers at all) has been fantastic, in many of the ways I had hoped to find when I started this adventure.

But the really surprisingly kind strangers have been other PSOs. After a couple of weeks on the job, "Buttery Bellina" welcomed me to her category... because I had just slipped ahead of her in the listing rankings. Yikes. It's a lot easier to be happy about moving up when you don't know who you just passed... Bellina shared her experiences as an office-based PSO (sooooooo fascinating!!), and about experimenting with her rates. I'm significantly older than she is, but I feel like I gained a big sister!

Then "JungleFeverForever" dropped me an email out of the blue to let me know that one of my pics would break the Terms of Service (TOS) because it showed bare ass. You can show a thong-clad ass, just not a bare one. If your listing gets pulled, after you fix it, it goes to "pending" and has to be reviewed, which it can take 2-5 days!! Yikes! Thanks!

Then yesterday, "BBWbarelylegalAngie" dropped me a note and asked about my photographer, and also let me know that one of my new pictures also violated the TOS because it had sex toys in it. I wasn't touching any of them, mind you (which is what I thought would be a problem), they were just spread out in front of me. Really? That's a problem? She also shared some of her experiences as a BBW video goddess in case I ever want to head down that path. Thanks tons, Angie - you're a life saver! And grats on breaking 1400 on your main listing! You go girl!

So now, as I browse listings by other women, I've sent TOS-violation emails to three others, hoping to keep my karma balance high, and happy to save others from the dreaded pending limbo.

Truth be told, I have never relied much on the kindness of strangers much in my life. I've always been a bit stubbornly independent. It's hard enough for me to ask for help from people I love, much less to expect help from people I've never met in person. And yet, here I am, and strangers are showing up and being kind. And I love it. A lot.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Compulsive Redesign

I'm making progress on sorting through the pictures from LAST Tuesday. The first step was to pick a few faves and re-do my listings. Not only was I not happy with the combination of pictures I had there, I wasn't happy with the layout.

This is my 6th listing redesign. It seems possible that I will never be fully satisfied with my listings, that as soon as I change them, I will want to change them again. Silly perfectionist...

I'd LOVE to hear what you think! Do you like the old main picture better (the one in green that's now the third picture)? Do you like the pics across the top? Do you wish the picture packs were presented differently?

I needed to relax a bit today - not be on chat, not be logged in, just steadily rework my listings with no interruptions other than the dogs, who spent most of the day curled up on my bed with me as I worked.

Yes, the bed in the pics :)

I look forward to being refreshed and renewed for tonight's conversations!

Facebook & Twitter

I just opened a Twitter account: http://twitter.com/GalianaChance

Right now, at this very moment, it would be completely recursive to read my Twitter feed, because all it has in it is a link to this blog... which you're already reading... seriously, is your mind BLOWN yet? Mine totally is.

I'll definitely use the Twitter feed to alert of new blog postings... but not more than once a day. I assume my insane impulse to blog multiple times / day will slow after I get the first 50 or so posts out of my head.

And I'll drop random thought-nuggets there. That sounds dirtier than I meant it to - how often does that happen? Usually I'm trying to sound dirty.

And I have a Facebook account: http://www.facebook.com/galiana.chance -- but I probably won't post there much. I'll probably just use it to peruse people's personal lives and photos, and sometimes send private messages to make amusing comments. That profile does not have me listed as a PSO, the picture is less risque than most, and my friend list is invisible, so one friend cannot see my other friends.

I think these are all my Hello Worlds for a while: blog, Facebook, Twitter. Should do it :)

Monday, August 23, 2010

Accidental(?) Blockage

A phone partner who's been lots of fun - "The Guider" from an earlier post - just blocked me after sending a blank mail. I strongly suspect accidental blockage. Or Cat On Keyboard, or something of the sort.

But it is a potential downside of the job - phone partners can disappear or block without a word, and I have no way to reach them. I guess it's the same as all anonymous online contact, isn't it? I'm sure one day my heart will break from a non-accidental blockage.

In the meantime, I hope Guider's block was an accident, and that he drops by the blog... :)

PO Box Wishes

I just made my Amazon Wish List private until I get a PO Box, because I found out that some 3rd party vendors (not Amazon) send your shipping address in their confirmation emails, even if your Amazon settings specify to keep your address private.

Comments solicited on this issue, please! Assuming I get a PO Box:

Is it worth it to list specific items on a Wish List and risk having a caller know your PO Box? My husband could check it once a week on his way elsewhere, but would I worry about it?

Or should I only list specific items on my Wish List if I've checked with the vendor first to ensure they respect Amazon's privacy settings?

Or only have one item on my Wish List: an Amazon Gift Card -- then use gift cards to buy things for myself, and send pictures? I know that doesn't put your address at risk.

Ugh - not the fun part of the job.

Straight-A Insecurities

"Inception Guy" helped me put something about myself into words: I'm basically a secure person, with an intact sense of self / ego / safety. I believe that I will always be fine, that everything will end up for the best, and that most days can have more fun and joy than pain and sorrow, if you choose to enjoy available pleasures.

But in any given situation, I can become concerned that I'm not doing everything perfectly, which can trigger situational insecurities.

I'm accustomed to doing things well when I put my mind to it. I only made one C on any report card ever during my academic career, and it was in "Conduct" in first grade. Because I talked too much (shocker, I know).

My only report card B was in Theater in high school because I calculated that it wouldn't ruin my semester average, which is all colleges saw anyway. So I skipped a huge assignment - the benefit of keeping the straight-A streak wasn't worth the cost of missing that much sleep that week. Apparently I also jumped on the bed a lot as a toddler, fully expecting  it would get me a time out, because, as I explained to my mother, the fun was worth the time out.

Sorry, I got sidetracked on my ability to run my life according to personal cost-benefit analyses, which is not the point. The point is that I want to do well at everything I do. I really want to. If I'm giving it my all, I crave to have someone notice and tell me I'm doing well.

My Inner Feminist absolutely positively fucking HATES it that I crave sexual affirmation from men. I should be self-confident, self-assured (and in the big picture, I am), and not need reassurance (and in the big picture, I don't). And yet, I hunger for it.

If I'm working hard on a phone sex call to please a partner, it makes me irrationally giddy to hear that I'm doing well, that he's pleased, that he feels good, or that I'm a "good girl" (I'm in Texas - people who know I'm 39 affectionately call me "girl" all the time - that phrase has no creepy age-play connotation for me).

So if you want to crawl into my primal happy spaces, set up a scenario where I have to "prove myself" and then reassure me that I did well.

Inner Feminist: This is horrible, stupid, degrading thing to tell people.
Inner Slut: Hush, bitch. It's sexy as hell!
Inner Feminist: Editor! Please tell me you're not going to click "Publish Post"!
Inner Editor: Fem, we all agreed that Slut gets to drive this blog. Are you... pouting?
Inner Feminist: Shut up, shut up, shut up! I can't hear you! La la la la....

Just another day with my noisy, conflicted inner dialogue :)

Awesome Support

I'm a fortunate woman. Unbelievably fortunate. Oh, sure, I have a crazy mysterious disease which lost me a career, but that's not the most important thing in my life.

In the past month, we've told my sister, my mom, my aunt (the three of whom comprise my entire living "immediate" family), our roommate, my parents-in-law (not kidding!), a friend from college, and two of my husband's friends that I'm now doing phone sex work.

ALL of these people have responded supportively, after making sure my safety was not being compromised. Most have been fascinated, and have continued to ask questions, even writing me emails in the middle of the night as my new job occupies their insomnia thoughts!

My mom said she was thrilled that I could do something concrete to feel productive again, because she knew how hard it had been on me to feel like I wasn't contributing financially (we don't have kids, and I used to make more than my husband did). And my friend from college said it really seems to fit me well and combine "the best of" my skills and talents. How great are those responses?

What's been surprising? The support of my phone partners. Yep, the people who call me! "Hypno Man" warned me about keeping my boundaries intact. "Breathe Man" encouraged me not to try to resolve any therapeutic issues via phone sex. "Gravely Moon" reminds me not to get picky about my calls, even when they are not high-connection, because "their money is green too". "Butt Slut" asked me enough questions about what I wanted from clients to help me hone my listings to better attract those kinds of callers. And all four of them helped me work through my questions about how best to use pictures and free minutes to build customer loyalty without becoming a spammer.

I knew I had a great family and friends who'd watch out for me. I never would have guessed that I also would have felt supported by some great phone partners.

Luckiest. Girl. Ever!

It's Not The Length Of The Call, It's What You Do With It

It's really not the length of the call. It really is what you do with it.

I've had 7-minute calls bore me, and 7-minute calls where I couldn't wait for them to call back.

I've had long calls (30 minutes or more) where I hoped they liked the sound of my breathing because I couldn't think of anything else to say, and very long calls (60 minutes or more) where I thought of more to discuss the instant the call was over.

(P.S. If you're reading this, you won't be a boring call, because you're interested, which suggests intellectual curiosity, which means you won't be boring. Trust me.)

I described a fantasy today, set in a hot tub, that I haven't ever done or heard about or fantasized about (that I remember). It was my idea, I came up with it on my own, but it felt new to me, inspired by that moment with that guy who I'm getting to know (this was his 4th call - we'll call him "Reluctantly Seduced"). The whole call lasted 15 minutes, but it was ridiculously hot, and deliciously memorable. 

Thankfully, my longest call ever not only fascinated me while I was on it, but it intrigued me for days afterward. It was exactly 3 hours. Yep. 180 minutes. "Damn!" is right. I was wrung out, exhausted, dehydrated, hungry, and had to pee. And utterly thrilled at the intriguing, Inception-like meanderings we had managed to do in each others' psyches for that long. In fact, that was when he got the nickname "Inception Guy".

In both those conversations, what was memorable was the creative connection. Two people were exploring spaces that turned them on, and found places that they both contributed to, which neither of them could have created on their own. Fantasies were co-authored.

I have a customer list called "Faves" and whenever I have a call like that, a co-authoring call, I add the person. There are people on my "Faves" list who have spent hundreds of minutes with me, down to just a few. Dunno what I'm gonna do with the list, but it's fun to look over it now and then and remember the stories we created together.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Honestly Orally Fixated

I say in my listings that I'm orally fixated, and I've had people express doubt. Really? It seems like the thing you *should* say, but is it really true?

Ohhhhh yeah. It's true.

I crave interesting textures. Brie with the outside still on. Candied pecans. Peanut butter. Eating is half about the taste and half about the feeling for me. 

I find myself describing sex in food terms: yummy, delicious, tasty. The first sign I'm aroused is that my mouth waters. 

And I have a bizarre, and apparently uncommon thing physiologically: the soft spot of the roof of my mouth right behind my palette is pleasantly sensitive to touch. So sometimes when I'm stressed, I massage the roof of my mouth with my tongue without being aware of it.

So when flesh hits that spot - fingers or a nice warm hunk of man-meat - it actually feels good to me. Comforting. Relaxing. It helps me escape from what my mind is spinning and focus on what my body is feeling.

So when I'm turned on, I need my mouth engaged. I've begged lovers to put something in my mouth when I'm tied up. It's ten times easier for me to climax while masturbating with toys if I'm sucking on my fingers or my ball gag. And giving head while stuffed with buzzy toys is one of my favorite ways to orgasm.

Honest.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Timing Personal Calls

I just got off the phone with a friend from college who was happy and amused to hear of my new line of work.

And as I hung up, I checked how long I'd been on the call.

Wow. How wrong is that?

Wishes Coming True

My $15 sale dress
A phone partner sent me an Amazon gift card off my Wish List. I went practical (medicines for the dogs), but also decided to treat myself by searching dresses under $20. I found a magnificent treasure via Chadwick's.

When I started researching this job, I was astonished to find that callers sometimes liked to send gifts to the people they're talked with. I mean... I'm getting paid already. That seems perfectly fair to me!

But I was a waitress in college - I understand the concept of tipping for exceptional service, and I'm certainly not going to turn down the chance to pick up something fun!
Thanks, babe!

Now, I'm not a big shopper, not a high-maintenance spa addict... heck most days, I don't bother with makeup! But I love it when I don't have to leave my house, I can find something that I *think* will look good, and then it turns out to fit like a dream!

Plus, let's be honest here... it makes my boobs kinda look awesome, doesn't it?

Things Work Out

Apparently the phone sex service had some connection issues this evening (Friday - I'm posting this early Sat a.m.).

I discovered the connection problems at 11, when I woke up from a 2.5-hour nap. I'd just intended to snooze between calls, but apparently I needed the sleep, and conked out.

I'm so glad I didn't stay up and worry through that. Much better to do something healthy, like resting. It felt great, actually.

And I'm looking forward to a busy Saturday now that I'm all rested up!

Friday, August 20, 2010

My Biggest Challenge

My biggest challenge... well... should I say it? It makes me sound like a whiner...

My biggest challenge so far is how to manage when I'm busy. Like... how to make sure I grab time to go to the bathroom and remember to eat.

I'll go three hours and not get a call, and then suddenly, I get back-to-back-to-back for three hours. Really seriously amazingly nice problem to have, and I know that. I absolutely understand that I'm very fortunate to have this problem ever.

But I gotta learn better how to take little breaks, even during busy times, or I end up feeling wrung out. And then I need to take a much bigger break, which isn't good for anybody.

Plus, if I lose a bunch of weight from forgetting to eat, I'll have to take down my BBW listing, which is my most popular listing! Can't have that! /giggle

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Phone Sex Experience

I had a long-distance lover for two years. Another continent long-distance. We only met in person twice, but we played a few times a week over the phone.

I've always had an active visual imagination. In middle school, if I was reading a book, my siblings amused themselves by yelling at me (things like "the house is on fire!") until I heard them - and sometimes they would give up before I noticed. To this day, I can't converse at restaurants where televisions are playing unless I'm facing away from them.

Madeline L'Engle wrote a book about being an artist, and said something like this, although I can't find the exact quote: If I'm writing or praying, and I'm interrupted, the world I'm dragged into seems temporarily less real than the one I was just inhabiting.

That's me - I often visualize and engage so thoroughly in stories and visualizations that the fantasy playing in my mind seems more real to me than my physical space.

So with my long-distance lover, I practiced visualizing our bodies together for two years. I even learned to climax at his verbal command. Hell, it's possible that if I talked to him today, years later, I might not be able to stop myself if he told me to cum in that certain voice.

Natural inclination to lose myself in visualizations? Check. Experience exchanging sexual energy with long-distance lovers? Check. Wow. Now that I think about it that way, I might actually be qualified for this job after all.

Tip For Phone Sex Callers

Helpful tip if you're calling a phone sex line: identify yourself by a memorable compound name which is likely to be unique.

So, for example, "Mark" doesn't help me much because I've talked with seven guys named Mark in the past month (my most popular name). But if you call yourself "Mark from New York" or "Mark the Sissy Slut in Training" or "Mark the Spanker" then I'm much much much more likely to be able to recall the details from our last call(s).

Or, call yourself by your user name "wanker123", which is actually easiest for me, since you show up on my transaction log and emails and feedback list as that name.

What I don't want is to guess wrong... Oh, Peter? Fantastic! I had so much fun with you at the glory hole last night... Oh. Oops. Sorry. I mean... I had so much fun getting caught breaking into your office and seducing the safe combo out of you two weeks ago...

Yikes. Nobody wants that. It's just awkward. (P.S. I really did have fun with both of those...)

So, help me remember! Give me your user name, or a combo name, so we can jump faster into exactly what you want to be talking about!

I'll Have What She's Having

Remember the scene in "When Harry Met Sally" where Sally fakes an orgasm in the deli?

A phone partner just asked me to "When Harry Met Sally" - to hear the sounds I make when I fake.

I laughed first! Then I fought -- HARD -- to get to that space to be able to find that breath, that rhythm, with no stimulation whatsoever.

I think I was disappointingly bad at sudden-onset fake coming. I think I actually need a few seconds of sexiness. This either makes me kind of wonderful at my job, or kind of horrible, but I can't decide which!

But... it was hilarious.

Variety Is The Spice of Life

I've had an absolutely luscious morning. Among other calls were two that demonstrate the variety I can experience from call to call, and how much fun I get to have.

First, I talked with a sweet gentleman I'll call "Pet Wife" who wanted to serve me, my husband, my lover, my husband's lover, and our friends - while ultimately belonging to me, of course. Oops, I should follow BDSM conventions and refer to Myself as Me, capitalized, when describing this call. Pet Wife would start her day on a leash at the foot of My bed, serving Me breakfast with a foot massage and a slow soft starter orgasm, help Me shower, and then spend the day in training. She needs training in sucking cock, getting fucked, getting spanked, orgasm denial and control, and of course, in worshipping My body. When she was finally ready to finish, I guided her how to stroke her clit-cock while she fucked her pussy-ass - then I counted her down to her orgasm. The sated exhaustion in Pet Wife's voice was extraordinarily rewarding.

Then I was directed by the yummy smooth voice of a guy I'll call "The Guider". He had me describe my favorite toys, get them out, and had me tease myself. With one toy buzzing on one breast and the other resting just outside my pussy, he had me describe how I masturbated in college... and if I was good enough at telling the story, I got to climax. Thankfully, I can tell stories under duress, and he was pleased enough to urge me to come hard. Whew. Not sure I would have been able to withhold if he'd said it wasn't good enough!

So... seriously? Are you kidding me? I'm getting paid for this?

Fucking. Delicious.

My Favorite Kind of Call

I do have a favorite, I admit it.

My favorite kind of call is when I'm a little sleepy, thinking about logging out and calling it a night, and then someone calls and wants to hear me have a nice luxurious big fat orgasm to help put both of us to sleep.

Fuckin' yummy. 

G'night. 

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Phone Partner!

While writing my last blog post, I finally figured out what to call people who utilize my phone sex operator services: a phone partner!

"Client" sounds too professional, too detached.

"Customer" sounds like I get nothing out of the exchange.

And sure, some calls are client calls, or customer calls, but the ones that fascinate me are the ones where we are creating together, as partners in the fantasy.

I'm aware that I'm the one getting paid. It's not a completely equal exchange - I'm in it to please more than to be pleased. But when both can happen when both of us can thoroughly enjoy ourselves as partners over the phone... why not do that?

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

The Best Thing So Far

The best thing so far about being a PSO (phone sex operator) (and yes, I know I probably don't have to keep repeating that PSO="phone sex operator" since it's in the header of my blog, but the first time you use an acronym in an article you're supposed to spell it out, and I CAN'T HELP IT)... what was I saying? Oh, right.

The best thing so far about being a PSO (which now I don't have to spell out) is figuring out how to articulate what I do. Not what phone sex is, but what I, specifically, do when doing this work. It took me a while to explain, even to myself.

Remember the buzzards in Dumbo who all asked each other "What do you wanna do?" "I dunno, what do you wanna do?" ad infinitum? Well, I can get into that trap sexually if I'm with a partner without strong preferences, because I really love following along when someone else has a specific lust in mind.

But what I figured out how to do was to start exploring my phone partner's lust landscape - the vast array of things that turn him on. And when we stumble across one that makes him give more feedback or catch his breath, then I search my lust landscape (which is astonishingly vast), and find an idea that overlaps. And then there's the place we play and explore for that call.

It's not as much fun if I'm just following to a script that's already completely written in his head, and I'm fed lines, and I follow along with the feeling that it wouldn't matter who I was.

It's so very much more fun if we're creating together, dredging both our imaginations, and both feeling gratified when we hear the other's voice crack from desire. I've been extraordinarily fortunate to get to explore those types of spaces with phone partners in the last month, and I hope I have many, many more opportunities to do so.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Yes I'm Married - Yes He Knows - No He's Not Listening

Yep, I'm married - to a wonderful, geeky guy I met in 2003 at a now-defunct online dating site.

Yep, he knows I'm a PSO (phone sex operator).

No, he's not listening in on calls. I'm in the guest bedroom, which has my computer and all our sex toys in it. If he's home, he's in his office, where he runs two noisy fans for heat dispersal (the office is full of computers and sits over the garage, so temperature control is a problem). He can't hear anything - I've tested it. He's happy to let me do my work while he does his thing.

Yes, I tell him about some calls. I have nicknames for clients (clients? callers? I can't figure out what to call people who call me) like "Butt Slut" (how the caller referred to himself) and "Inception Guy". Sometimes he gives me empathic insight to turn them on more next time they call. Sometimes he just listens wide-eyed and slack-jawed, amazed. And sometimes I'll describe something in such a way as to start him off on a string of increasingly absurd what-if scenarios until we're both giggling like morons... but he does that with everything we talk about. Just like Jessica Rabbit, I'm a sucker for a guy who makes me laugh.


He's proud of me for having done better than we expected so quickly. He's taking pictures of me tomorrow (when the reddening effects of today's waxing hopefully will have subsided some) to list in picture packs for sale.

He loves that I'm enjoying myself, that I'm meeting interesting people, and that I'm having a few really satisfying orgasms along the way. Long before PSO work started, we were not monogamous. He's seen other people give me orgasms before in person, so knowing that it's happening over the phone is absolutely fine. 

I like to describe our arrangement as a "French Marriage" - he's my life partner, roommate, co-decision maker, partner in family matters, and supporter when rough times come... and yes, my lover as well. But since sex can be overshadowed by life-concerns with your life partner, it's prudent to have a lover or two on the side, protected from the concerns of life, whose only requirements are to be sexually compatible, and not irritating to spend leisure time with. But your lover doesn't have to agree with how you raise the kids (or in our case, dogs but no kids), how you spend money, what kind of house you live in, or how often you travel to visit whose family members. S/He just has to take you away to fuck-bliss often enough to energize you. 

I'm fortunate enough to have a real-life male lover who fills my sexual energy tank quite nicely, and a long-distance "girlfriend" who I talk with at least once a month, but I've only been with in person 5 times in the past 8 years. 

So, that's the deal on my real-life situation. Maybe I'm supposed to keep it a big mystery, but I prefer honesty in life, and lying only in role-plays... 

Spa Day

Today Is a series of firsts: first time to get a mani/pedi in the same day when I wasn't prepping for a wedding, first time ever to mami/pedi/wax on one day, and first time ever to have it all paid for by someone I've never met in person.

Oh, yes, and my first time to take pictures with the intention of selling them.

I had a bunch of pictures before I started being a PSO, mostly from a 3-hour romp in the studio of Vivian Ronnelle, erotic photographer extraordinaire. And from my phone-cam, being naughty in random moments. I was stunned when picture packs I put together as an experiment started selling. Like... I've been making about $1 on pics for every $10-$20 of calls!

I was STUNNED. The Internet is FULL of naked pics... Why would someone pay for pics of me?!? And yet, they do.

So today is an investment in that part of my career ... and a day of feeling pampered and glamorous. Nice work if you can get it, right?

The First Thing I Learned

The first thing I learned being a PSO is that I'm not good at being mean.

I mean, I knew I wasn't mean very often, but I kind of assumed that if I tried to be mean to someone who was asking for me to be mean to them, I'd manage to do okay at it.

Not so much. The best I can do is kind of echo back phrases that people feed me, with minor variations. If I try to think of mean things to say, they just kind of bounce around in my head, unwilling to come out of my mouth.

So when I'm asked to play Mean Mistress, I can do things like "Tell me what you want" and then whatever they answer, I tell them it's an unacceptable answer. Sure. I can set up a psychological double-bind all day long.

But tell someone they're unworthy? Useless? Pathetic? Destined for failure? I just don't believe that about anyone, and I hope nobody believes it about themselves, so I can't seem to shove that out of my mouth.

Good to know my limitations, I guess!

EDIT: A year later, in Aug 2011, I wrote this:
A year and a fortnight ago, I thought I would never find sexual stimulation in humiliating another person, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be very good at it. After making someone come twice in ten minutes from scathingly deriding his lack of sexual adequacy, leading to an adrenaline-fueled big fat POW of an orgasm for me while I told him he could never get me off that well, I concluded I had been mistaken.
Your honor, please let the record reflect the defendant's apparent change of heart.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Galiana Chance, Ex-Techie

From 1995 to 2009, I was a technical professional with "progressively increasing responsibilities" to use the HR phrase for my happy career progress. I started as a programmer and data analyst, then learned business analysis because I could talk to both the business people and the techies. That led to me managing technical professionals and also managing software development lifecycle processes.

The unsexy reason I changed professions: March 15, 2009, I suddenly developed  mysterious neurological vertigo (it feels like I'm drunk all the time), which leaves me well-equipped to do phone sex work on my own schedule (so I can rest when I hit a 3-drink dizzy until it subsides to a 1- or 2-drink dizzy), but not well-equipped to do anything that requires motion (like traveling to work), reading that involves scrolling (like emails or resumes or data), extensive writing or editing (like performance reviews or presentations or articles), or concentrating on intellectually complex tasks (like... everything I did as a data analyst & tech manager).

The sexy reasons I changed professions: I really love sex. I have a vivid and active imagination, so it's easy for me to participate in a shared fantasy over the phone. I'd had non-professional phone sex and loved it. I enjoy  meeting new people and bouncing myself off them to find out which pieces of me bounce back to get to know myself better - and sex is a great way to bounce! That self-awareness from new partners is why I wasn't  monogamous even before I was a PSO.

So for me, phone sex is a very safe way to play with other people's erotic fantasies and sexual energy... and get paid for it! Sweet!

Galiana Chance, Ex-Smuttress

I've been publicly sexual before - as an erotica writer from 2001 to 2003.

I have the urge to write fiction when I'm in times of emotional difficulty. I was going through a divorce, and started wanting to write, but my unpredictable schedule didn't allow participation in any traditional writers' groups, so I looked online for a virtual writers' group. I found a lot of writers' groups which were combinations of: unhelpful, poorly organized, overly restrictive, completely negative, required more participation than I was willing to give, or had a wait list of months to get in.

Then I stumbled across the best writer's group on the web: Erotica Readers & Writers Association (http://www.erotica-readers.com/). You contribute at your own pace, offer suggestions as you wish, and have a blast with some of the nicest smutsters you can possibly imagine. Sure, some of the feedback is "wow that was hot", but some members offer genuinely insightful and helpful critiques (especially if you offer genuinely insightful and helpful critiques to encourage others to notice your work).

In addition to improving my writing, ERWA exposed me to alternative sexual and alternative lifestyle choices, many of which I had never considered for myself. I discovered that playing with control and pain in a sexual setting both turned me on - much more than my Inner Feminist would like to admit! But the Inner Slut gets to decide about sexual interests, so I continued to explore beyond erotica in real life, and found I loved it as much as I'd hoped I would!

Although I'm not active on ERWA anymore, I made some lasting friendships there, and I'm so glad I did.

If you're an erotica reader but not a writer, help yourself to their free archives (you're welcome!).

So that was my first public sexiness - as a smutress - which I loved!

Hello, World!

I'm Galiana Chance.

A month ago, July 15, 2010, I started a new career as a phone sex operator (PSO).

Now that I've done it a month, it's official: I'm going to keep doing it.

So now it's time to blog about it.

Hello, world! I'm Galiana, and I'm a Phone Sex Operator.

(Go ahead and say it: Hellooooo Galiana!)