Phone Pimptress

I hate waking up before noon. I hate being told what do, how to do it, or what to say. I hate having to be around individuals that irritate me. I hate working for other people.

However, I hate being hungry and sleeping on the streets. They top my list of Things I Hate and I was therefore willing to overlook hates number three, four, five, and six. I got up in the mornings and joined the rat race in an effort to keep the hungriness at bay and the homelessness to a minimum.

But, you know, the whole work thing? It didn't work out. Turns out I hated it even more than I thought. It's not so much the actual work that put me off. It's the fact that all my hard work only made my employers rich and the fact that I really do not enjoy being told what to do.

Now, it's not like I didn't have ambitions or goals. I did but dreaming of going to college didn't pay the bills. In fact, I was quite sure that going to college would increase the bills. Other than that, my other dream was to be my own boss.

As a result, I tended to job hop. Naturally, I ended up having a lot of experience in a wide variety of fields. I was a jack-of-all-trades and master of none. I filed, painted walls, ran conduit and electrical wiring, installed alarms, increased a line of credit, tiled, grouted, answered phones, and sold vacations.

I finally stuck with the vacation gig. It gave me flexible hours, I was good at it, it paid damn good, and I really didn't answer to anyone per say, as I was an independent contractor. Then, I met Tiffany at the telemarketing company I worked at. Turns out Tiffany had side job she performed from home for extra money. Tiffany was a phone hoe.

Tiffany hooked me up with her company and I became a stay at home phone slut. I lasted two days. Turns out it wasn't the right job for me. But, I kept the company info in case I ever got desperate and needed the cash. The company was in need of willing workers so I referred a couple of women and men to them. The company was grateful. They were so grateful they sent me a check for referring those friends.

A few days later, I was eating at Denny's mulling over my situation. If I had to work, I would rather work for myself doing something relatively easy from home. Then a big light bulb went off right above my head. Really, it did. A nice shiny sixty watt bulb. Right in the middle of Denny's. People kept looking at me funny.

I thought, brilliant woman that I am, why not start my own referral business? I could work from a home office, be in control of my own finances, and not have to put up with other people's shit.

The idea of being my own boss made me all warm and fuzzy and it turns out that while I personally didn't like being a phone hoe I had no problems pimping other women and men out to do it.

I sold vacations for a few more months while I got Marten Referrals off the ground and to the point where it paid my bills, kept me feed, and allowed me to sock away a little retirement change.

Now, I no longer work as a telemarketer. I work for myself. No one tells me when to get up other than my adorable kitty cat of eleven years, when to leave, what to say, how to say it, or when I can take my potty breaks.

It was such a great feeling when I got my occupational license and I squealed with joy when my business cards arrived in the mail. It was an even better feeling when I signed a business contract with the entertainment company I previously worked for to provide them with referrals. It was exciting, frightening, and glorious all wrapped up together.

Nowadays, I go to work everyday. I walk from my bedroom, down the stairs, turn right, and sit down on my plush leather chair. I read about sex. I talk about sex. I literally breathe sex. A necessary part of the job considering I work in the adult entertainment industry.

Ironically, I was a twenty seven year old virgin. Now, it's not as if I didn't know anything about sex. After all, it is my business. I knew the mechanics, I watched porn, read the manuals on creating a phone persona, read the psychology and physiology books, rented the self-help sex videos, and immersed myself in human sexuality. Hell, I'd taken calls and jacked off more men through the phone and internet than I cared to count. In the digital and audio world, I reigned as a sexual goddess. In real life...uhh...not so much.

Never did the horizontal mambo; never had any heavy make-out sessions, never made it to third base, and never kissed. Hell, I had never even held hands. That was perfectly fine by me. My fingers and vibrating dildo did a great job and I never had to deal with my toilet seat being left up afterwards.

I was content with my sexual status, more than pleased with my prospering business, and I had even managed to form a real friendship with my assistant soon to be Vice President. It was smooth sailing.

Then I went to Vegas.