Confessions

I am stunned to realize I have completely neglected an awesome category of phone sex calls from the blog so far: the confession.

There are, of course, entire listings devoted to the idea, "Tell me your dirty little secrets. Let me be your confidant." I don't have a confessional listing, but I get confessional calls. And I love them.

The feeling varies, from "This happened and I'm shocked, and I had to tell someone" to "This is a complete fantasy, but I want you to pretend you think it's real." It doesn't matter to me, my responses are still the same.

I had someone email and say he'd never played with anything larger than his finger in his ass before, but an ex girlfriend had sent him a giant black dildo, and he couldn't stop thinking about whether or not bigger is really better, and if he got up enough drunk-courage to think about taking it, would I walk him through it?

Of course I would. He started on his back, with a finger inside himself. We chatted about cock size, and how this ex-girlfriend came to send him this strange thing. He went to two fingers while we talked about lube, and prostate stimulation, and how erections have strange responses to anal. He went to three fingers while we talked, with his breath growing more erratic, about whether or not he would change from doing this.

The dildo went in. He was overwhelmed, then ecstatic. By the end of the call, he had mounted it from the suction base against the wall and backed up against it. When he cried out a string of profanity and enthusiasm as he came, I suspected perhaps he fell into the category of fantasy (a hunch later confirmed to be true): this was a guy who had taken that dildo more than once, as well as real-life big black cocks, but he was using me to pretend it was his first time.

I've heard about trips to glory holes, with cocks of ever-increasing sizes feeding through the anonymous openings. I've heard about pantyhose secretly worn under suits. I've heard about gang-bangs arranged for exes, the memories of which he just can't seem to shake.

My participation is rarely directly sexual: it's not about me getting off to the confession, it's about me feeding my energy into it. My enthusiasm, my encouragement, my noticeable lack of disbelief at even the most outrageous of claims. I look for details to add, questions to ask, the right moment to let out a happy girly squeal of delight as I enjoy the movie in my mind.

Or sometimes, I'm asked to participate: What does it feel like suck a cock for the first time? How would you have felt after losing your virginity in a dorm room, then crossing the room and mounting his roommate, who had pretended to be asleep? Does it make me weak to want someone to tie me down and hurt me?

I love the role play fun of participating in an obviously fantasy confessional, but I think the real confessions are even more fun. I love the connection, the sense of befriending someone around an especially intimate issue for them, and, when I'm very fortunate, the rare chance to help someone accept who they are a little more fully.

Oh, and don't worry, semen tastes great. I promise.

Chance It for Kindle!

My blog is available on the Kindle!

The way blog subscriptions work on the Kindle is that someone signs up for a 14-day trial, after which, if the subscription is not canceled, the subscriber is charged a monthly subscription fee. The fee is set by Amazon, and I get 30% of what Amazon collects (which I am delighted by - something is better than nothing).

So now, on the right side of the web version of this blog, you can see a little button directing you to learn more about a Kindle subscription. That button takes you here: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004LGSC6S where you will see a real live product by Galiana Chance available on Amazon.
This. Is. Awesome.

Even if the subscriptions never take off, I am still irrationally thrilled at (a) being listed as an Author on Amazon, and (b) the possibility that the blog might generate a little cash.

I'm celebrating by turning up "Any Way You Want It" and rocking out for a few moments... pardon me... Okay, back now. Thanks.

Many many many thanks to the darling dearest caller who suggested this (you know who you are /blowkiss). I'm so pleased!

The Value of Time

I regularly get requests to spend time and attention outside the phones, with no compensation. I think all sex workers do. The requests seem to have a few common flavors:

• Fetish Check/Scene Set-Up: I want to make sure you can do my thing
• Anxiety: I want to make sure you won't bite
• Flattery: You seem too good to be true, so could you respond so I know I didn't dream you up?
• Familiarity: I need to get to know you first
• Cash-strapped: I don't have money yet, but I'll make it up to you when I do
• Checking In: I'm an existing repeat customer and want to connect a bit between calls

Here's the advantage I have over people who were not technical consultants for 14 years: I know that it's not just sex workers who get requests like this. I thoroughly understand why consulting companies have full-time sales people: because sometimes it is worth the time to spend some up-front time with a potential customer, but you want to protect your billable people from spending non-billable time in sales cycles where possible.

However, in the one-woman operation that is Galiana Chance Phone Sex Industries, I have no sales staff. It's just me. So my work time is either spent on delivering billable time (phone sex: guaranteed pay), creating product for sale (pay-to-view content: almost guaranteed to pay over time), marketing (blogging or tweeting or sending follow-up notes: proven to pay over time), or doing sales activities (talking with potential customers: risky and might not pay at all).

I feel like a lawyer, or a one-person specialized consultant. Yes, I understand that sometimes, a few pre-first-call exchanges are required in order to obtain a customer who will be valuable over the long term. But I also have to decide when it is not worth my time.

Fetish Check/Scene Set-up: YES (One free round)
I totally understand callers with unusual requests who want to confirm my ability to provide for them. If you need something complicated, and you've been turned down, ignored, or under-serviced by other providers, you probably have a template introductory email which explains your fantasy, honed over years of hit-and-miss set-up attempts.

Or along the same vein, I don't specify my limits on my listings, because I don't want unsexy things there (also, I don't want to accidentally show up in search results for "scat" or "gore"...). So I encourage inquiry emails from those who have edgy requests.

I hope I'm being perfectly clear: I want to see those types of emails, and have a chance to respond to them. I don't want someone else to decide what my limits or interests are if they have not been specified. I think a call-and-response specific to your individual fantasy is absolutely justified. I have enjoyed calls which resulted from a fetish check, and also I have been relieved at calls which were successfully avoided because of being willing to do a round of "let's check in first".

The same goes for existing customers who want to set up a scene for the next time we talk. Yes, absolutely, write it up and send it to me, and I'll be happy to confirm or ask one round of clarifying questions, and then we will both enjoy the experience together.

Anxiety: YES (One free round)
I understand shyness and having to overcome feelings of being socially awkward. My husband has introverted tendencies, and probably 20% of the hundreds of technical professionals I have worked with would test positive for varying attributes on the spectra of autism, attention deficiency, or obsession and compulsiveness. I get it that a little encouragement is sometimes required to muster the courage, and I love providing that. I don't bite (unless requested to do so...).

(Side note: my husband is in a Jonathan Coulton mood today, and "Skullcrusher Mountain" just came on while I was typing that paragraph -- how awesome is my life? In a related side note, my new life goal is to recover from my vertigo enough to be on his next cruise. In another related side note, amusing and clever jeans-wearing singers with guitars and scruffy beards and shaggy hair are totally my type - the one concert of his I've seen was one of my happiest experiences ever while participating in an artistic event. Mmmmm. JoCo.)


Where was I? Oh, yes, the difference between "time I'm happy to spend" and "time I'm unwilling to spend" for free.

Flattery: YES (One free round)
I admit it, I'm a sucker for someone telling me how sexy I am, how much they enjoy my blog, and how much they're looking forward to calling me. I will engage for a free round of back-and-forth emails to stroke my ego. It's an ugly truth, but it is truth nonetheless.

Familiarity: MAYBE (One free round)
If someone tells me that they need to get to know someone before engaging them in phone sex, warning bells go off for me. What I don't want to encourage is the concept that "I should only pay for your time if I am getting off." No. That's not true.

If my time is devoted to you, then I cannot devote it to anything else in that moment, and therefore, you should pay me for it. If you choose to use my time and attention to get to know me better, and for me to get to know you better, then you are receiving entertainment value from my time, even if it is not sexual, but the choice is yours, and the cost to me is the same.

So I typically try to feel out what the person's attitude is, and if I can't correct their perception of the value of my time after one round, I (attempt to politely) decline.

Cash-Strapped: NEVER
Remember Wimpy from Popeye? He regularly said, "I will gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today." However, here's the problem with Wimpy, and people like him: by the time Tuesday rolls around, he has to give up his whole paycheck for things he has already spent, so he has nothing left to follow through on his promise.

I took this bait in my personal life enough times to know not to take it as a phone sex operator, and I never will. The answer is just no. If you don't have the money to spend on entertainment, then please enjoy the big wide wonderful world of free entertainment on your own without involving me.

Checking In: YES (One free round, or more if I feel like it that day)
If you're a regular caller of mine, someone I have spent hours with over time, and you drop me a note now and then to say howdy, or to set up our next scene, or to tell me that something made you think of me, you bet your ass I'll reply back!

In fact, I kind of love it. Each caller is a human being, and I like the friendly interactions with people who have proven to value my time. The response might not be particularly timely or particularly wordy, but I'll at least acknowledge receipt and appreciation.
 And then very rarely, a kind of perfect friendly situation happens: Sometimes I happen to be available on chat and not working on anything requiring concentration, when a repeat caller pops on and says hi, and every once in a while, those have turned into lovely, friendly, "happy accident" conversations.

But then it's just like chatting with any of my friends -- I might take minutes or hours to respond, or I might drop off unexpectedly altogether, and I don't expect insta-responses or a formal "goodbye" from them, either. It's very catch-as-catch can, with no expectations that it will continue from moment to moment.

When these rare happy-accident chats happen, I keep them strictly friendly (nothing overtly sexual), so I can save my sexual energy and creativity for my next paying caller. After all, they deserve the best! Plus, I wouldn't want to build up a head of steam and then be interrupted by a paid call - grrrr - just say no to that kind of frustration!

Conclusion:
Even though I am business-savvy enough to know that sometimes a little free time pays off, I am also aware that some people will try to get something for nothing, and it is my responsibility to protect my time and energy from them.

The good news is, I'm good at saying no, and I'm not afraid to do so. You won't take advantage of me, don't worry, because I won't let you. I'd rather stay a little more open and enjoy a little back-and-forth than bottle myself so tightly that I can never enjoy a happy friendly interchange now and then.

Who Is This Material Girl?

In college, I had a job building sets, doing props, and being stage manager for a local high school, so my car frequently looked like I had just robbed a hardware store. Although I wasn't in a sorority, I knew a lot of frat guys, and I got asked to formals on a regular basis because I loved to dance and I didn't get embarrassingly drunk.

One day, these seemingly dissociated facts collided: I had picked up my go-to little black dress from the dry cleaners, the one I'd gotten on sale for under $50 and worn four times already, and had loaded in some lumber to build platforms, and on my way down the highway, I thought, "This is exactly me."

It was the juxtaposition: lumber and lace (well, velvet and taffeta, but that's not the point...). It symbolized being practical, flexible, and fun, and I loved the image of myself as a strong, tough, capable girl who wasn't afraid to gussy up now and then, but who didn't take her gussying up too terribly seriously.

I was a fancy girl growing up: I begged to wear extravagant costumes to school, and my favorite part of the circus was the sparkles...



And I was a tomboy growing up: I would come home bleeding from a scrape on my knee, and when Mom asked what had happened, I would have no idea, but maybe when I fell out of that tree...

But by high school, I had decided that spending money was best used on entertainment, travel, and decadent meals with friends. The memories were what I wanted, the connections with other human beings, not "frivolous" material things.
And yet, this week, I have been delighted by lingerie, and chocolate, and shoes. And it has made me ask, on a surprisingly deep level, "Who am I now?"

Well, first, the lingerie and the chocolate...

My first gifts to my PO Box! A hypnosis caller who loves to please me (he asked for it, I promise...) asked me two days in a row what would make me happy, and I reluctantly came up with lingerie and chocolate. I'd open the box and show you the pretty chocolate morsels, but ... well... it's partially ravaged, so I'd rather just stick with the elegant closed box.

I'll be taking pictures with the super-happy sparkly red top when my new camera arrives. Yay fun!

And now that these have arrived, apparently, it was time to indulge me further, so he told me that he was ordering me this from Secrets In Lace in black:

I love. It. So. Much. 


Like, my heart skips a beat when I think of wearing it, I love it so much.

Like, I need to upgrade my body wash to make my skin luxurious enough to deserve to wear it, I love it so much.

Like, I need new shoes, and new panties, and stockings and a bra and a haicut and to get my eyebrows waxed...

I had this chat exchange with a friend from college about it:

Galiana: I think this robe will always mark a turning point for me
Her: How so?
Galiana: The day I finally embraced my Inner Femme
Galiana: I've been such a tomboy, so practical, and loved that self-identification
Galiana: and something about spending real money on frilly things... I've shied away
Galiana: but I get it now, or I get it more than I have before
Galiana: the human being as art
Galiana: or rather, the human being as a canvas
Galiana: and the fabrics and the textures as the paints
Galiana: and that the beauty has value in and of itself

It amuses me that it took me two decades of adulthood to embrace the celebration of fabrics and colors and textures that I celebrated so naturally at age 6. Somewhere in the middle, avoiding "materialism" was temporarily more important to me than enjoying something luxurious if it is available to me.

I know, I bought new lingerie for my photo shoot in September for my 40th birthday, but those were play things, of lesser value, not objects of quality and art to be admired and treasured. And they were for work, so it was justified. They didn't make me feel like that robe is going to.

It makes no sense that I would value a dinner with friends that cost $139, and yet, the prospect of owning a robe that cost $139 has required serious introspection, to the point of even having to redefine myself a bit... I understand giving a gift of luxury to someone else, and I've done it, but it is taking some emotional growth on my part to accept such gifts for myself. 

Well, hello there, Inner Diva. I'm sorry I haven't properly attended to you for so long. Please enjoy the sunlight and fresh air and chocolates. I hope you stay a while.

I'm going to have to reorganize my closet, aren't I?

I will never value things more than I value relationships. But, if it just so happens that a relationship can be enhanced by my acquisition of things, well then, how can I say no?

One Step Closer to Cam!

A caller / fan agreed to buy me a cam! We started talking about why I don't have a web cam listing, and the fact that I need a photographer to produce photos because I don't yet have a cam with a remote, so he offered to fix that for me! Squeeeee!

He knows a lot about video, so he verified that the camera recommended by several PSOs is a decent choice (Logitech HD Pro Webcam C910). I was very surprised that he would be so pleased with the stats on a sub-$100 camera.


As I stated in this blog post, there are still a bunch of factors before I go live with a cam listing, but having a good camera is certainly the first step! I still need to get a land line so I'm not fighting for bandwidth against my current VOIP phone, fix the lighting, paint the room, figure out a good set up with furniture and camera mounting (dirty...), etc, etc.

So I will probably start out just taking pictures more often, since I won't be dependent on scheduling someone else's involvement. That should force me to do the physical setup, which is a huge first step.

I already have requests for more pics with stockings, a "naughty secretary" look, and something in shiny latex. Other requests?

Words, Lies, and Sighs

"The words you choose, they way they tumble out of your mouth, I can feel them hitting me, and they feel like truth." - a phone sex caller

"Words are what we make up, but those sighs, those are the truth." - another phone sex caller, a few days later

Yes.

Seriously, I have the best job in the world. Not only do I get paid to masturbate while relishing someone else's sexual energy, usually several times per day, but also, in post-coital pillow talk, sometimes people say the most interesting things. (Physical + Mental + Emotional) * Stimulation = Win

Oh yeah, I just turned something intensely sexy into algebra. Wow. I can't decide whether to feel mortified or victorious.

But back to the topic at hand... Words, and truth, and sighs, and lies.

Last night, I was role playing a "seduction" scene which had an element of blackmail in it. I said a few things, which, if taken out of context, would be horrifying, like "HR would never believe you that you didn't want me" and "I'm paying you right now to bury your face in my pussy, so eat it like the whore that you are." You can probably figure out the scenario.

I would never, ever, even for a moment, in my real life consider finding anything sexy at all about non-consensual sex. In fact, it turns my stomach. And yet, role playing this scenario with him, I was struggling not to rush the scene so I could freaking come already because ohmygod was I turned on.

The words were lies. But the energy hurling the words at him was raw, unadulterated truth.

But that first caller, we'll call him X, the one who said my words hit him... we had gotten to this place of slow, deep sensuality, a luscious, wandering exploration. He would touch me some place new, and I would find myself asking, "X?" and then he would pause, and I could hear his ragged breath, and he would reply, "Galiana?" and I would have to pause to let the shivers of delight run their course at the way he said my name, and then I would ask him for the next thing my body was dying for him to do. Every word was raw, unadulterated truth.

I remember reading CS Lewis' "The Screwtape Letters" in high school. In case you don't know it, the premise is a senior devil who is writing letters to his nephew, a junior demon, coaching him how best to ensnare and corrupt humanity. In one passage, he described captured souls as if they were wines in glass bottles: most people had bland colorless souls, but the best of them, the truly tortured and hateful, they swirled in agony, with tendrils of delicious regret and rage that you could feel churning in your gut after consuming them.

I think about that mental picture often, of the ribbons of someone else's being reaching toward me, and I relish the exquisite satisfaction of intertwining them with my own, and letting mine reach back and feed him. 

I think I just called myself evil. Or at best, vampiric. But no, because the interaction is two-way with me, and mutually energizing, so that makes me merely naughty at worst. Right?

My callers were both wrong, and they were both right. I think the intention is the truth. Call it energy, intention, emotion, passion, whatever, but that is the thing that is true. And that truth, when it's all flowing exactly right, is what I love. /lick lips

Bad Galiana! What are you wearing?

I've been neglecting my blog, I'm sorry. Two days this week with zero posts? Reprehensible! Commence the spankings!

(Now I have the scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail in my head, where all those nuns needed spanking. Perhaps I could stay a bit longer... Far too much temptation!)

In my defense, the past few days have been been pleasantly busy on the phones, with a good steady pattern of call - rest - call - rest. The downside to that pattern is that I don't tend to finish tasks which take longer than an hour to complete.

So to apologize to you, a few casual pictures!

I get the question, "What are you wearing?" a lot, and the answer is often the same: a tank-top / camisole thing top with a built-in bra. In case you can't picture that, it looks like this, in a self-portrait taken about 2 minutes ago...

I have about fifteen shirts like this in various colors, and I love them - enough support to feel supported, enough coverage to where I don't have to worry if the blinds are up, but just one thing to put on instead of two. Lazy, comfy, a little sexy: perfect for me.

Plus, when I go out in public, I can just toss on a jacket or sweater it, and then I get gratifying boob-stare double-takes. Like in these pictures from a dinner date with the hub over the weekend:

These pics are pretty much the epitome of Life With Galiana - casual, comfy, happy, full of good ideas (take a "what are you wearing" picture for the blog!) but with a few issues on execution (blurry, with the trash can in the background... /sigh). Enthusiasm trumps technique, right? Right? (please just say yes...)

I love that my hair is finally getting long again, but I need to get it cut to add in shorter layers, so it looks more like this, from a web cam picture taken in 2002 on what was probably the best hair day of my life: 

No perm, no rollers, I just let it air-dry and kept scrunching it on a particularly humid day. If I had more self-discipline, it could theoretically always look like that... maybe if I start doing cam work, I'll find the motivation.

So, am I forgiven?

Role Play / Fembot Voice Sample

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Heartbreak and Phone Sex, Part IV

He found me through Fembot Central, on the recommendation of my first robot caller. We exchanged a few insightful emails about the nature of android fantasies, the immense variety among practitioners in the fetish, and the specifics that he preferred. His core fetish is about the reveal, in his words, the "sudden lurch into the artificial".

That last phrase illustrates what I've found so far in my recent immersion into the community of technosexuals: thoughtful communication, vivid imaginations and rich vocabularies.

When I think of the stereotype of men with a robot fetish, I think about Warren and Andrew and Johnathan in season six of Buffy: socially inept basement dwellers with delusions of grandeur and massive latent rage at being so misunderstood. And, y'know, some awesome funny quotes if you hang out with them long enough.

But as with all stereotypes and generalizations, the reality at an individual level is deeper, more complex. Unsurprisingly, more human.

I've only played with a few mech fetishists so far, so it is theoretically possible that I have only been with the best and brightest, but my experiences have been delightful. In fact, as a group, they are more adept at discussing and explaining their desires and preferences than the overall group of "all my callers", which I absolutely love; the more information I have, the better I feel like I can do.

Plus, their scenarios are fun and creative and varied. And, I admit it happily, they're fucking sexy. Let's see, I get to imagine myself as a sultry seductress with an insatiable appetite for carnal pleasures, in a 69 with an anatomically correct android who has been programmed to know how to make me climax most efficiently... what exactly would I find to dislike about that?

But I digress. This post is not about the alt.sex.fetish.robot gang as a group. This post is about one man, one story, and my unexpectedly broken heart which has driven me to write, in hopes that maybe I can find a way to stop intermittently bursting into tears from the cinematic images that will not leave my mind.

We set up a simple fantasy that didn't necessarily involve sex, but did involve an identity reveal: My name is Alexandra, and I've been his best friend since we were 14 and 15, through high school and college and getting our first jobs. I was sick a while back and went incommunicado for a few months, but I got better and he didn't think anything of it (which is when the original Alexandra was replaced with a robot replica without his knowledge). He started dating a new girl at the beginning of January, and if we talk too long about her, I'm likely to overload out of jealousy (with details of what kinds of malfunctions he enjoys), because I was made to want to be with him.

I was now two people: Galiana-me, the role player, who wanted to enjoy myself and give him the best experience possible, and Alexandra-me, also known as "the Alexandra replica", a robot girl who loves him.

Galiana-me expected the call to focus around Alexandra-me's desire for him, my malfunctions, and maybe the pleasure programming I had been waiting so long to reveal to him. I expected him to have been harboring a secret crush on me, to be excited by the idea of having a robot girlfriend, and for his surprise to quickly be replaced by lust.

We started that way, bantering easily about our jobs and his new girlfriend, and as it became clear that he was happy with her, I spoke increasingly erratically until I started stuttering, repeating myself, and eventually errored out. While I was in robot mode, restarting my emotion programs, I explained calmly that I was a robot, and asked if he wanted to reactivate my human mode with emotions activated. He chose yes. I restarted, sounding hesitant and apologetic, looking forward to following his lead into sexy time.

"Where is my friend?"

His voice was level, but shaking, the way voices get when someone is using every ounce of their energy to keep themselves from yelling. I... I did't know what happened, I wasn't given that informa....

"What happened to my friend?" They didn't put that in my memory banks, I had no way to...

"Find out. Now." Alexandra-me scrambled to figure out a way to hack into the memory stores, possibly without being detected, and retrieved the information.

At that moment, I realized that Galiana-me simply could not bear the thought of the original Alexandra having been killed. The shock and anger in his voice was too great as it was, I couldn't add danger to that. Or I didn't want to. I didn't want him to feel any more pain than he had to.

So Alexandra-me broke the news to him, with her own voice shaking, and emotional programming threatening to overload, that the original Alexandra had gotten sick. It was natural. She just got sick. She knew she was dying. And she knew the super-secret android lab she worked for could program a replica for her, to replace her, and to continue on with the groundbreaking AI work she had started.

And when she built her own replacement from her memories and her emotional makeup, inevitably, it loved him.

He was furious. Stunned. Incredulous. He lashed out at me, bruisingly firing questions which forced a few resets of my emotional centers as I apologized for letting him find out this way, and tried to tell him what I knew. Yes, her parents knew, but nobody else. No, she wasn't killed, I promise. Yes, she chose to put together this replica. Yes, it was as close to her as the original Alexandra could program.

"If I order you to do something, will you do it?" Yes, of course. "If I told you to program yourself to love someone else, could you do it?" Yes, I could try, but it seems so ingrained, the probability of success is extremely... "Do it. It's a command. Make yourself care for someone else, anyone else, I don't care. Just do it."

Alexandra-me complied, searching through my programming to replace my love for him, and found the impulses buried at the center of all my emotions, and some of my logic. The malfunctions started quickly, growing in severity, until a shut-down was becoming inevitable. As the garbled speech was tumbling out of my sound card, one sharp, pained cry made it out through the mess: his name, the nickname I called him, the nickname that he only allowed me to call him, my own special name for him, a desperate plea for help.

I heard his breath catch.

"Cancel order."

Oh, thank God. Relief and order came back to Alexandra-me as I restored my original programming, and I begged him not to do that to me again. He promised he wouldn't. But he had a new order for me, "Forget you ever told me that you are a robot."

Hi! It's so good to hear your voice. I thought you were avoiding me since you have a new girlfriend now. No, I don't feel tired, why, do I sound tired? Yes, I absolutely should recharge, you're right, a movie maybe, or read some classic sci-fi... What, what do you mean you wouldn't want my mainframe to get corrupted. What, what are you talking about? No, I, what? No, I, what? No, I... please stand by. Restarting emotional center...

He overloaded me twice before I cleared enough of my cache to ask him what he was doing to me, why he sounded so angry, and what he wanted, before I overloaded again. Alexandra-me, without my emotional program activated, the robot-mode version of Alexandra-me, asked if he wanted to restore the memory of the revelation of the robot identity, and my emotional center.

Yes, he said, because "I don't want to talk with you." The way he said you sent shivers down Galiana's spine, as if he had to spit the bitter word out between his teeth before it poisoned him. I ached to reach through the phone and wrap him in my arms for comfort.

Alexandra-me restarted, temporarily stabilized, but deeply concerned. We both took a long, deep breath.

So. We can't make me, it, her, whatever I am... we can't make me stop loving you. And we can't erase the memory from me, because you can't pretend you don't know. So. What do we do?

He needs time to process. Of course. We will talk again, later. Oh, good. That's good. I should email him with details if I find out anything else from the main data source. Yes. Absolutely. I will.

"Alexandra?"

"Yes?"

"Wherever she is, whatever part of you is her, I love you."

Well, so much for holding on bravely and not crying like a little girl... "I love you too. I love you so much."

And as soon as I hung up, I knew. I knew why she hadn't told him she was dying.

She couldn't bear the thought of telling him goodbye.

Sometimes, when you act, or when you write, you fall in love with characters as they tell you their stories. So, Alexandra, welcome to my heart. That's Megan on your left, Camille on your right...

What? Of course I know the nickname you call him. Of course I remember that you're the only one allowed to call him that. Oh. No. Of course not, Alexandra, of course not... No, I won't tell anyone else what it is. I can tell the story without telling them your name for him. I promise. Your secrets are safe with me. You get some rest now.

Oh, no, really, love, honestly: Thank you.

New Feedback Page

I have published a new page with some of my favorite feedback comments:
http://galianachance.blogspot.com/p/feedback.html

So far it has very few comments. I kept getting interrupted last night / early this morning by having awesome calls (nice problem to have!), so I didn't get far. But I wanted to go ahead and publish it so I could knock something off my to-do list, because I have too many to-do items rattling around in my brain again.

My "plan" is to add comments sporadically, whenever I need the insecurity-eliminating boost of confidence I get by sorting through nice things people have said about me. How often do I need that kind of encouragement? Would it be bad to admit: almost every day?

I've added little comments about the feedback. Because I can't help myself. Seriously, I would get so many more packages of pictures published for sale if I didn't want to add little running commentaries. But hey, words are my thing, right?

Anyway, aside from my peccadilloes...

Please let me know if you want a specific feedback of yours included, or if you do not want your feedback ever to show up on that page, or if you want me to attribute to your username on the page (by default I'm only specifying the date and the listing).

This feels like one of those bizarre activities that is intelligent marketing mixed with extraordinary narcissism. Am I doing this for callers? Or for me? Am I trying to encourage callers to leave me articulate and specific feedback because it's good for business, or my ego? Such an odd job.

Kink Academy Said No

The Kink Academy said no to my application to be a student blogger for them (details here), but I think I'm going to give them a try for a month and see what I can pick up anyway. Yay learning!

If you peruse their offerings, and see a particular class you'd like me to attend, let me know, and I'll blog about it!

Dear Kink Academy: Pick Me!

Dear Kink Academy,

I learned about you today, and I am thrilled to have found you. And I want to be one of your Student Bloggers!

I have been personally kinky for nine years, but my participation in the greater kink community tended to ebb and flow with the rhythm of other life commitments, similar to many amateur kinksters, I'm sure.

Then in July 2010, I became a phone sex worker. And BAM! I'm now smack in the middle of the biggest kink-o-rama I could imagine! Although I started with a phone sex listing that was fairly simple (sex-positive, plus open to being submissive for BDSM play), I have gotten requests for:

• cross-dressing
• feminization
• humiliation
• erotic hypnosis
• cuckolding 
• gang bangs
• bondage
• spanking
• cock-and-ball torture (CBT)
• and role plays of a bazillion types, including the most popular: 
• damsel in distress
• naughty neighbor
• robot / android 
• student / professor

... and the list of activities go on and on and on, as evidenced by the 82 blog posts I have so far with the tag "caller".

I am thrilled to have found Kink Academy as a place to get new ideas, learn safety tips, and watch experienced kinksters sharing the things they love.

And, in the spirit of openness and honesty, I will also confess that I would love to eventually contribute as a faculty member for you (if we know each other long enough, if you want me to, if all goes well, if lawd willin' an' the creek don't rise, and any other if-based caveats you wish to add...). I might have a topic or two in me about using phone sex or web cams to spice up a long-distance relationship!

But back to the second-semester job at hand. It will be easy for me to put a Kink Academy eduction to use with my callers in a few ways:

1. When someone requests a new kink I don't know much about, I can (hopefully) fake it without putting them in danger (for example, I would never fake a CBT call without knowing what I was talking about), then go to Kink Academy to learn more, and then offer the caller a new level of understanding. I think most customers would be thrilled to get an email saying "I watched this video about your kink, and I have new ideas for our next call!" 
2. I can take classes for kinks I know I get calls for - three obvious examples I'll be soaking in are "Chastity", "Edge Play", and "Foot Fetish". In any given week, I will put those to use. 
3. I can attend classes for kinks I don't know much about yet, and "advertise" for those types of calls by blogging about what I've learned and inviting interested callers to test-drive me to see how I do!

I try to blog every day, so blogging once per week about what I'm learning at Kink Academy should be simple. In fact, it's kind of a win-win no-brainer for me... I watch a class and leave comments, and take notes on what I learned, wait for the next relevant call to use the techniques and ideas from the class, and then follow up with the caller's response. The blog posts would write themselves. It sort of feels like it's cheating, but I'm fine with being easy! 

I know my readers will appreciate glimpses into what I learn. I often hear from callers who read my blog that they are fascinated to learn about the variety of kinky conversations I have, and they appreciate the exposure and information. Kink Academy knowledge could only add to that enjoyment.

Whether or not I am chosen to be one of your Student Bloggers, I'm sure I'll be sending knowledge-hungry kinksters your way.

(but seriously, pick me! pick me!)

Galiana

P.S. FYI for regular blog readers: How did I find out about this? I've been happily following Mistress Magick on Twitter -- @Mistress_Magick and http://www.male-service.com/ - who seems to have a great pulse on kink education. She also is fantastic at using Twitter to reinforce the obedience of Her sissies and servant-men-in-training... Anyway, She had the link in Her Twitter feed. Thank You, Mistress!

It'll Seem Less Crazy When Your Balls Fill Back Up

Late last night, I told a quivering, panting caller, "Don't worry, love, it will all seem much less crazy when your balls fill back up."

I could hear it in the way he was gasping, "Oh my God..." that his rational mind was trying to come to terms with what his animal urges had driven him to do moments before. It wasn't anything immoral, just something he did not find sexy at all when his brain isn't drowning in a flood of lusty sex hormones.

When your balls are full, all kinds of things sound sexy. It's as if the semen is seeping up into your thoughts, making everything you see wiggle and squirm and potentially give pleasure. Who knows? It might feel great to stroke yourself while wearing that silicon oven mitt with the thick ridges. Or with a weight tied to your balls. Or you might enjoy trying a vibrator up your ass for the first time.

But then starting about fifteen seconds after your testicles empty themselves, the list of sexy things in the world collapses suddenly. For example, eating your own cum - it's hard to do because it requires action in the moment after you have an orgasm, which is exactly the moment when your brain flushes itself the cleanest of all those animal-lust-inducing endorphins.

Don't sweat it. The phenomenon happens to the best of you ball-bearers of the world.

I stumbled across an online article from Psychology Today titled, "Sick Secret Sexual Fantasies" which handily provides some evidence to back up my personal observations:

Do disturbed, conflicted, problematic fantasies really reflect deep-seated psychological disturbance? The building evidence suggests that they do not.

To clarify, I'm not talking about violent fantasies of genuinely causing someone else non-consensual harm -- I think those fantasies should be discussed with a professional, and if they are played out in a sexual way, everyone involved should be very aware of the situation and of the risks.

What I'm talking about are fantasies that press against your rational boundaries. For me, it's anal sex: when I am tired or not in a sexy head-space, butt-sex sounds completely unappealing, potentially messy, potentially painful, and generally all-around not fun. But when my body fills up with the right kind of lust and shoves my rational self into the closet, I have been known to beg, "Please fuck my ass, Sir!"... and mean it. Wholeheartedly.

So if you find yourself stroking to mental images of your wife happily being gang-banged by a racially diverse group of well-hung studs, but baffled as to why since you're pretty sure it wouldn't be her thing, my recommendation is that you not worry about it. It'll all make sense again when your balls fill back up, I promise.

I Love Fucking

I love fucking.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I also love complicated role plays where my mind is just as engaged as my body. And I love spicing up sexual energy with the delicious flavor of power exchange through domination or hypnosis. And yes, absolutely, I love enhancing the hormonal mix of sex by tossing in some adrenaline-boosting pain or struggling.

But I feel like I've talked so much lately about my specializations that I've been neglecting to mention that I simply really. love. fucking.

I love being slammed against a door to close it, before I'm even all the way inside, pinned against it, and finger-fucked to orgasm while I'm holding on to broad, strong shoulders.

I love riding a man slowly, grinding into him, finding all the luscious spots that this particular cock hits inside me.

I love resting my pussy after a mind-shattering orgasm by taking hot, stiff flesh into my mouth and humming with pleasure at the taste of my wetness coating it.

I love luxuriating under exploring hands and mouth from someone taking his time to enjoy each spot and each moan.

I love being fucked from behind against the bathroom counter, facing the mirror, so I can see the animal lust in his face.

I love the scent and feel and taste of a woman's body under my lips and fingertips and strap-on...

Hmmm. Maybe I didn't get enough calls today, which forced me into reading one too many blog stories about gangbangs and hotwives. And maybe watching teaser clips for blowjob videos wasn't the best way to cool down...

First Formspring: Fembot Question!

I got my first Formspring question! Yay! Someone reads my blog and wants my Inner AttentionSlut to be happy! Thank you!

For your edification, here is the first question (and my answer). I'm so happy!

As a (very shy) reader of your blog and android enthusiast, I'd like to hear your take on robot fetishes. It seems new to you, but what's your angle? How do you play the horny fembot?

Hi Shy Reader! Thanks for coming out & asking my first Formspring question!

My android role plays are much like any other role play I do, in that they are driven by my partner's lust.

The one fembot caller so far has leaned towards having an emotionless, plastic-and-metal stiff-motion sexbot with removable access panels, who follows explicit commands and tends to play with other female androids who are in human mode (don't know they're androids).

But I could see a ton of ways to adjust: I could not know I was an android, my partner could not know, I could malfunction, I could be reprogrammed from more mundane uses to be a sexbot, my voice could more/less monotone/expressionless... the possibilities are endless!

So before I jumped into a new ASFR role play with someone, I'd need to uncover their preferences.

Well, except one thing isn't negotiable: I do like hearing that I'm the perfect woman!!

Other Contacts

I know, you probably have all of me you can stand from my ridiculously prolific blogginess, but just in case you want more Galiana in your day...

FetLife: I have a profile on FetLife - my user name is "Galiana" - and I'm slowly starting to fill out information there. I only did the basic list of Fetishes, and already I feel like a giant slut! Imagine what will happen the day I decide to look through the comprehensive list!


The big fun thing about FetLife is the ability to find out about local kink-friendly events in my area, even though I don't attend many. I'm hoping FetLife will encourage me to attend more. When I have been involved in BDSM / swinger / kink groups in the past, I have found the vast majority of attendees to be delightful, fun, easy-going, laid-back, supportive people.

Twitter: I use Twitter - my user name is "GalianaChance" - and I try to tweet when I have new blog posts, when I see something awesome I want to share, and when I have fleeting dorky thoughts that I don't want to make a whole blog post about. Yesterday's example, "My husband just answered a question by playing a 'wrong answer' sound clip from The Price Is Right. I <3 geeks." ... and yes, that really happened, and yes, he was quite pleased with himself.

Formspring: I use Formspring - my user name is "GalianaChance" - but so far, I've just used it to enjoy the answers other people have given, because nobody has asked me any questions yet. My Inner AttentionSlut is a little devastated by that. Help her. Please. Ask me questions. The answers will show up in my Twitter stream, so if you subscribe to my tweets but don't want to sign up for Formspring, you can ask anonymously, and still track my answers.

Facebook: I use Facebook - my user name is "Galiana.Chance" - sometimes to post notices of new blog posts, but mostly to make amusing comments on other people's statuses. Most of the people who follow me there are not phone sex callers, they are girl geeks who connected with me after my post on Reddit.

I don't hide my profession, so consider yourself warned that if you friend me there, and I make a comment on your stuff, someone could follows it to figure out what I do. If you don't want me to comment, let me know and I'll put you in a group where I don't comment, but the same risk applies from browsing your friends list...

Others: The email I check most often is (galiana at ymail dot com - translated into an email address of course).

I also use galiana at ymail dot com for Yahoo chat, but note: for callers and potential callers, the only discussions I have via chat are about my availability. I learned the hard way that, although it makes me sad to have to be restrictive, if I friendly-chat for free with every caller who wants me to do that, I end up a big stress ball and never get anything else done. Sorry. However, for other phone sex operators: feel free to pop on and vent if you've had a rough call and need a supportive ear, or if you want to request that I preview something for you - if I'm available and have extra energy, I love to give back to the community in that way.

When I watch callers on cams, I do that via Yahoo chat, or on Skype as "Galiana.Chance".

And I'm on NiteFlirt as a phone sex operator... and if that's a surprise to you, then, ummmm, well, welcome to my blog. It's nice to meet you.

Future: I may at some point put up a store on clips4sale or kinkbomb, but I don't have enough content yet. I'm not producing the content because I don't yet have the equipment yet. I can see the day coming when I will make those investments. Photography and videography are easy enough to learn, right? (yes, that was sarcastic - I expect a sharp, harsh learning curve, and to be mortified by my early work...)

Where else would you like to see me?

Anniversaries

In the five months since blogging about being a phone sex operator, I have...

In the six months since becoming a phone sex operator, I have...

In the twenty-two months since inexplicably developing a mysterious neurological vertigo, I have...

In the eighteen years since my father had his fatal heart attack, I have...

Where do I start with how my life has changed because of the anniversaries I am experiencing today?

In the five months since blogging about being a phone sex operator, I have... rediscovered the joy of writing for an appreciative audience, reaffirmed my creative nature, and remembered how much richer my life feels when I am examining it through written words.

In the six months since becoming a phone sex operator, I have... changed from a slut to a sex worker, from an adventuresome and promiscuous hotwife in a non-monogamous relationship to a phone whore, from someone with opinions about sex to someone whose experience of sex is worth enough money to pay most of our bills.

In the twenty-two months since inexplicably developing a mysterious neurological vertigo, I have... faced my limitations in sometimes torturous ways, and found an abundance of strength in myself, which I had always hoped would be there if I needed it.

In the eighteen years since my father had his fatal heart attack, I have... grown from a temporarily self-restrained, religiously conservative woman-child into a confident, sensual woman who was deeply influenced by the freedom of his open relationships, and deeply motivated to avoid the pitfalls he repeatedly stumbled into.

Where do I start with how my communities have changed since the anniversaries I am experiencing today?

In the five months since blogging about being a phone sex operator, I have... rediscovered the joy of mentoring others along my path, because this blog has turned into a magnet for new PSOs seeking friendly advice, some of whom I now gratefully count among my friends and support network.

In the six months since becoming a phone sex operator, I have... interacted sexually with an astonishing variety of men, a few of whom I now gratefully count among my friends and support network, which has widened my understanding of the world, driven my already-high libido to the point of requiring daily masturbation, and involved me in a community of sex-positive sex workers which I am honored to join and support.

In the twenty-two months since inexplicably developing a mysterious neurological vertigo, I have... shifted how I fill my tank socially from friendly interactions with colleagues during and after work, to online chats and emails and phone calls with friends and family far and wide who I was often too busy to reconnect with when I was working as an IT professional, supplemented by tossing around my opinions on online forums for fun.

In the eighteen years since my father had his fatal heart attack, I have... lost all my grandparents, but gained a brother-in-law and nieces and my husband's parents, so the dynamics of the group called "family" have continued to change, but the love and support has never wavered at all.

Where do I start with how I feel about the anniversaries I am experiencing today? 

In the five months since blogging about being a phone sex operator, I have... felt intensely grateful for the creative outlet, amused myself, annoyed myself, entertained myself, and loved the feeling of having a fantastic treasure chest of memories to sift through on rainy days.

In the six months since becoming a phone sex operator, I have... felt sexy, dead sexy, ridiculously sexy, outrageously sexy, powerfully sexy, submissively sexy, domineeringly sexy, creatively sexy, intelligently sexy, playfully sexy, intensely grateful, and sometimes, when I've been very fortunate, I have felt helpful.

In the twenty-two months since inexplicably developing a mysterious neurological vertigo, I have... felt anger, sorrow, pride, relief, frustration, joy, gratitude, and peace with my disorder, my care, the medical profession, the insurance industry, the loving people who have helped me, and myself: all those feelings toward all those things.

In the eighteen years since my father had his fatal heart attack, I have... felt so sad every January 16 that I cannot call him and yell at him for being a selfish sonofabitch for leaving so soon, and I have felt the loss of his perspective on my careers, my relationships, and the wonders of our electronically social age that I know he would have loved.

Where do I start with today? 

The same way I start every day: grateful to be enjoying a life worth living, but today, probably, with a little extra space.

New Page: Stuff To Buy

I am very happy to announce: I put up a page on this blog with all of my items to buy on it ! Please feel free to browse the oh-so-un-subtly named: Stuff To Buy page.

(side note: Whew! Yay me! It feels like I have crossed something major off my to-do list which I've wanted to do for a long time. It's a drag that I had the time today because the phones were pretty slow all day, but yay that it's done!)


Each item has a picture, and that picture is the link to buy the thing.

All items are payable through NiteFlirt, so you need a NiteFlirt account to buy them (NiteFlirt is secure and confidential, takes less of a percentage cut than many adult pay-to-view payment processors, and new customers get 3 minutes free on sign-up).

Even though all my items are also listed at MyFlirtStore.com, I find myself frustrated at the inability to re-sort the items so they appear in the order that makes sense to me.

Also, on a completely practical note, my next big undertaking is to personalize my listings with targeted pay-to-views where possible, so I wanted to gather all the pay-to-view code in one place, instead of having to scrounge through offerings and build the HTML listing-by-listing.

I feel like this is one step in a season of infrastructure-building in my fledgling adult career. It feels like maybe I have sat back and observed enough, and I am now ready to roll out the pieces which make sense for me... all at once... all bazillion of them...

Which is probably why my blog has recently felt like a series of posts alternating between "Hey, look what I did!" followed by "Zoikes! There are so many things I want to do!" I think it's because I have a sense of where to go from here, but I'm trying to pace myself and be satisfied with doing just one or two things each day.

Wish me luck: pacing myself has never been my strong suit.

Enjoy the new page!

Follow-Up to Follow-Ups

After writing this Openly Manipulative blog post about how I use follow-up notes to entice callers, I finally managed to get through them yesterday.

Last night, I got a late-night call from a role-play enthusiast who normally sets up "Oh gosh, we shouldn't but... maybe... just this once..." kinds of fantasies with me. A little raunchy, a little rough, and always fun.

No set-up last night. He had been to a stag party, and had been drinking heavily. When he came home, he saw I'd sent him a follow-up email and went to check it. In his words:

"I had whiskey dick in the worst way until I saw your gorgeous self, your head leaning back off the bed, with that dildo about to slide into your mouth, and now I'm rock-fucking-hard and had to call you."

Oh. Really. [begin Alabama accent] Well, my stars and garters! [fan myself] [end Alabama accent]

Sure, professionally I'm motivated to send up follow-up notes in hopes that it increases customer loyalty and causes a few extra calls now and then.

But if I'm being honest, I'm more personally motivated by the thrill of hearing that kind of lust in someone who turns me on, and knowing that I inspired it. He didn't come to NiteFlirt already horny, knowing he was going to call someone and happen to choose me; he went from not-horny to ready-to-go in seconds from a picture. From a picture of me.

Hell of a rush.

Being My Self/Selves

My Inner Dialogue has a constantly looping series of thoughts that go approximately like this:

Inner Worrier: What if someone finds me through a Mistress listing, and it turns them off to see picture packages of me being submissive?

Inner Voice of Reason: Every successful Domme has the same advice: Be yourself. So sometimes we're submissive, that's who we are. If it turns someone off, they're not meant for us. We wish them well elsewhere.

Inner Pleaser: We should make a listing specializing in (fill in a fetish I enjoy...)) because those people can't find us now.

Inner Voice of Reason: Creating and updating listings is not our strong suit. We have more than enough to do now. When we're done with those, we can think about creating more.

Inner Attention Slut: Blogging is fun! So we should make a micro-blog for each of our specialties and blog about each specialty every day!

Inner Voice of Reason: The blog is not currently driving traffic to our phone sex listings -- our phone sex listings are currently driving traffic to our blog. So micro-blogging would probably just result in more places to feel like we're falling behind.

Inner Jealousy Monster: Look at her site! And hers! And hers! Look, none of these Dommes offer naked pictures of themselves. And look, none of these phone sex operators show their face! And look, these divas are making dozens of fetish clips! We should be as good as all of them all at once!

Inner Voice of Reason: We can't be everything. We have to pick. We have to do our thing. And we have to do it well.

Inner Cast: (panicking) OGOD OGOD OGOD, WE DON'T HAVE A "THING"! WE DON'T DO ANYTHING WELL! AAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHH! 

Inner Voice of Reason: Shhhhhh. We do. Take a deep breath and I'll tell you.

(Inner Cast breathes into paper bags)

Inner Voice of Reason: We talk on the phone well. When we're on the phone, we listen well. We pay attention well. We're empathetic. We can pick up instructions and run with them creatively. We bring imagination and creativity and joy into this thing we do, and we make it interactive erotica.

Inner Voice of Reason: (continued) ... And we blog well. We blog honestly. We show people what we love about the job, and what frustrates us, and how our insecurities can make us crazy in this job, just like they could make us crazy in every other job we've ever had, because the insecurities don't care what your job is. We show people how we can usually overcome them, and focus on the positive, ego-boosting parts of the job, and often figure out how to relax and enjoy ourselves. We show people that sluts who love sex can make a successful transition into being dirty talkers for a living by enjoying themselves and being honest.

Inner Slut: Fuck that. You know what you pussies need? To get slammed up against a wall and finger-fucked hard with a big strong hand around our throat and a deep voice growling in our ear to "Come. Hard. Now."

Inner Cast: (simultaneously) Wow... Yeah... Uhhuh... That would work... Whew... Agree!... Yes please....

Inner Voice of Reason: Thank you, Slut.

Inner Slut: No sweat.

Please note: The voices of insecurity have been exaggerated, at least slightly, for the sake of this post.

I would have thought that talking with dozens of men who adore different things about me would have eradicated all my insecurities. Don't get me wrong, it helps. It's great. I love it. I'm probably more confident overall now than I have ever been, and "lack of self-confidence" has rarely been a big problem of mine. Thank you all for that. It matters to me. Thank you.

But the crazy-making voices pop up still, from time to time.

Maybe some I day I will have a whole day where I am content to be myself, without having to talk myself down from some knee-jerk impulse driven by fear or insecurity or jealousy.

It's a lovely goal, isn't it?

Openly Manipulative

The Blog Post Titled "Openly Manipulative", In Which Galiana Reveals Marketing Secrets In A Blatant Attempt To Entice Readers To Call

(Don't you miss journalism headlines from the late 1800s? I know I do.)

Obviously I've got a bit of the silly in me today. And perhaps a touch of the lazy as well. I should be writing follow-up notes. I'm not.

I enjoy some things about the process: picking which pictures to include is fun, changing the main body text to say the same-ish thing in a new-ish way is an interesting writing challenge, and remembering recent delicious calls and having a chance to express thanks in a personal way feels fantastic.

But it's repetitive. There's copy-and-paste for the skeleton, which includes the link to the picture(s). After I get through about ten of them, the part of me that hates all types of repetitive maintenance tasks starts to try to hijack the bus (that same part of me also hates cleaning, shaving, and pulling weeds).

So to appease her, Little Miss Inner Oh I'm So Bored, I'm letting her do something creative and fun: share a few pictures that I've sent along with my follow-up notes, with little explanations of what I like about them.

FYI #1: since mid-November-ish, I've been including a picture with my follow-up notes that do not require downloading - they are just included in the mail itself. Much better. So even on a mobile device, you can see the picture. All it took was figuring out hosting for my pictures that allows adult material (thank you to the ever-luscious and ever-helpful-mentor-of-mine Buttery Bellina for the reference).

FYI #2: I cannot promise to send you naughty pictures of me if you leave me official feedback, because that would compromise the integrity of the feedback system, and that would be bad. However, I can say that in the past, I have sometimes sent pictures of myself to people who have left me official feedback as a way of saying thank-you after the fact, and sometimes those pictures have included more nakedness than the pics I have here. I can also say that I am especially motivated to say thank you in a material way when the feedback is articulate and specific -- the kind that would appeal most to intelligent, creative callers.  

FYI #3: This blog post was aptly named so far.

FYI #4: As a marketing tool, it has worked pretty well - for every 50-ish pictures I send out, I get a call that day saying "Yes Please Do Want!!" and the calls feel related to the pics. Plus, several people have said it's a lovely differentiator that I send out follow-ups at all. I try to use those comments not to feel guilty when it takes me longer than a week.

Click the pictures for bigger versions of them.

This might be the perfect picture of me, of how I feel as a phone sex operator. Playful, luxurious, happy, dolled up with amazing lingerie, great shoes, and decadent accessories (the wrist band was my grandmother's costume jewelry - considering her older sister was a flapper in the 20s, she might not be all that upset with me doing this). This looks smart, fun, and "Galiana"-ish... a bit gypsy, and maybe a little exotic. What more could I want from a photo? (boob lovers, I hear you, don't worry, scroll down)

I would use this as the main picture of most of my listings if the thong were a little easier to see (it's up around my waist) - it is technically compliant with "don't show ass crack without showing thong" but it's not worth the risk of being off-line for two days while I argue the point with the team who polices for nudity.

See? Boobs! I love the relaxed grin, and the pale lingerie against my pale skin. And although the top was tight, so my breasts don't look their largest, they are still obviously more than a handful. I'd like to think that if you came home to that, you'd ravage it.

Ahh, the woman of mystery. Is she submitting to you with that lust in her eye, looking forward to being used? Or is she about to command you to lick her vinyl boots and work your way up to worship her pussy with your tongue? The only thing clear is that she wants you to join her.

This was taken during my 40th birthday shoot, and I had been lazily playing with my pussy moments before, so it was definitely lust-haze, but I like that it's so undefined.

The pin-up girl and her shoes... one of the best pics I have of my feet, oddly enough. This was about 3 minutes after I'd given myself an orgasm with the Hitachi wand, which I did to relax for the rest of the shoot. It worked!

And now, we close with the reminder that you, yes you, can be the first to see pictures like these by calling me every week... And maybe even naughtier if you leave feedback!

Ok, Inner Exhibitionist... can we go back to follow-ups now? Please? 

Perpetual Arousal Machine

Need to spend hours every day between incoming phone sex calls in a constant state of mild arousal without you tipping you over the edge into actual distraction? I do!

Here's what I avoid:

• News
• Political conversations
• Facebook - on days when political issues are especially rampant or impassioned
• Thinking about non-phone-sex-related chores or finances - if it didn't get done before I logged on, it didn't need to get done today
• Comparing myself unfavorably to other sex workers who have been in the business for years, because I don't have nearly as many things to sell, or my own domain, or my own store, or... or... or... 
• Watching porn videos, especially involving bisexual threesomes or anyone transgendered, because then I get nothing else done and have to stop and masturbate

Here's what I do:

1. Read happy-making Twitter feed, making sure it is dedicated to phone sex workers, people sending sex-positive messages, swingers and hotwives showing off their luscious escapades, and other things that usually bring happiness and rarely bring sadness (like @FakeAPStylebook and @NathanFillion), not enough to make me dizzy, just enough to make me happy
2. Work on blog posts about sexy topics, not enough to make me dizzy, just enough to make me happy
3. Read and comment on http://www.reddit.com/r/sex/, not enough to make me dizzy, just enough to make me happy
4. Eat too many salty snacks (this does nothing for my state of arousal, but irrationally, it keeps me on target - I always ate salty snacks while doing homework as a kid...)
5. Read happy making blog subscriptions, making sure my blog reader (I use http://reader.google.com) is dedicated to phone sex workers, people sending sex-positive messages, swingers and hotwives showing off their luscious escapades, and other things that usually bring happiness and rarely bring sadness (like http://bdsmbadadvice.com/ and http://xkcd.com/), not enough to make me dizzy, just enough to make me happy
6. Snuggle with dogs (not sexy, but happy)
7. Pick one thing off the phone-sex-to-do list and try to get it done today (just one, that's it, just doing one thing won't hurt you...), not enough to make me dizzy, just enough to make me feel productive, which makes me happy
8. Repeat 1-7

Feel free to use as you wish!