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The interview was cut short by a bee flying into his office and a few weeks later I was nervously logging on for my first call. After that first call things remained both terrifying and exhilarating.I was so nervous when the phone rang, never knowing what voice would be at the end, or what would be required of me.I was glad I had the protection of the company behind me and could threaten to terminate the call if he didn’t stop trying to steer things in that direction.I really wonder what had happened to this young man for these to have been his fantasies. The calls left me feeling both desired and worthless. I wasn’t a woman with thoughts and feelings and needs of my own, I was merely a tool for them.Sometimes I’d laugh with surprise as people were real with me and made jokes.Sometimes all I was required to do was moan over and over (and I learnt to keep a glass of water by the bed for such dry-throat inducing activities).
I listened to men who felt such guilt and pain and loneliness.
Once he was cooked (still alive and talking) I ate him slowly, he was very pleased to be “nourishing” me and after a while he thanked me and said he’d enjoyed the conversation a lot.
He asked if I would eat something so he could hear, maybe an apple, if he rang again.
(Basically anything illegal, which I was more than happy to oblige)And that was it.
I suspect it was all just a formality to see that my voice didn’t sound like my throat was crammed with marbles and harmonicas (actually that might sound great).