He's Special

Originally posted September 17, 2007

I work from 6 pm to Midnight tonight. Since I know that it'll be slow until much later tonight, I busy myself cleaning up my tiny apartment. It's been hot, and I'm sick of the air conditioner. I want windows open and fresh air, I don't care if anyone outside hears me yelling about some dude being a worthless little cum magnet.

Since I work the rest of the night, I change out of my street clothes and put on a faded black tank top and pink pajama pants my mom bought me that have "I Love Me" written all over them in black script. I'm trying to teach myself to french braid, so my hair is pulled back in two lopsided braids that somehow managed to join together at the back of my head.

Dennis calls me Nappy Longstockings.

When I sit in my chair to see if anyone is online for me to IM, I notice the bottoms of my sweaty feet are covered in cat hair. I'm sexy.

"I'm so fucking bored," I type to Dennis, "I've been sitting here for an hour and a half and I've only talked to one guy!"

"It is Tuesday," he reasons, "Maybe the perverts are watching House."

"Assholes. Let's do my domination lessons!" I've been complaining since I started this job that I don't know how to be a good dominatrix, especially if they want to be humiliated. Since Dennis expresses love through insults, I figured he'd be the perfect teacher.

"I can't understand why this is so hard for you..." Dennis had previously given me an extensive list of good insults but I can't seem to make them fit into the rest of the scene. I mean, I can't just sit there and call this guy variations of sissy boy cock gobbling faggot worthless piece of shit for a half an hour, can I?

"I don't either! It just doesn't make sense to me, I can't do it!" It bothers me that I can't get this, that I can't make it click in my head.

"Funny how being a tranny is within your scope of reality, but being a dom isn't."

"brb, phone!" Saved by the bell!

"!!" Dennis makes me giggle.

"Hey, Charlotte, I have a 10 minute call," comes Mindy's soft New Jersey drawl, "his name is Joey and he wants 18, white and slutty."

"Ok, I'll be Sarah," I say, clearing my throat, and sitting up straighter in my chair.

"Joey is a little slow, though."


"Yea, kinda...you know," she whispers, "slow. . . so he's a little hard to understand..." I love how people whisper certain words. You know, *black* Debbie.

"OK..." I'm still not quite sure what she's getting at, I've been getting a lot of calls from foreigners, so somehow I thought slow meant Asian.

"Hello?" I coo into the phone in my Sarah voice, which is basically my voice, only more whispery.

"HI!" Joey yells into the phone, entirely too loudly. I jerk my ear back from the noise, realizing "slow" is code for absolutely retarded.

I don't know if he had Down Syndrome or Muscular Dystrophy or what, but he was some brand of tard, complete with overly loud, overly enthusiastic, thick tongued vocalizations.

"Hi!" I reply with a little less enthusiasm, "What's your name, honey?" I realize I'm talking baby talk, and try to make myself stop and go back to sultry.


"My name is Sarah. . .what do you look like, Joey?" I try to bring the whisper back.

"I have brown hair. . .AND PANTS. . .I WANT TO HAVE SEX!" Joey is on a cell phone, and it keeps cutting in and out. He said something before pants. I pretend he said suspenders, because picturing a retard in suspenders makes me giggle.

"You do? I want to have sex, too!" That's such a fucked up sentence to say in baby talk. Try it.

And why is it that I want to use clinical terms for everything? I don't think I've ever said the words "have sex" in the course of this job before now.

"Are you on a cell phone, Joey?" I've stepped above baby talk, and now I sound more like a concerned mother.

"Yes. IT'S MY CELL PHONE!" When I ask him a question, his one word answer is always quiet and thoughtful. Then there's a pause, and he yells more information at me.

"It keeps breaking up sweetie, I have a hard time hearing you..."

"Ok. . . WHAT IS YOUR NAME!?" He asks me.

I breathe into the phone, "My name is Sarah. Do you want to know what I look like Joey?"


"Oh! Well, I'm ready for you Joey! I'm going to start by. . .licking your. . .uh..,"

Ok. I have this whole routine for telephone blow jobs. It's a standard outline, and I just throw in the details depending on the guy. With Joey, I couldn't say the words. I wanted to call it a penis. I wanted to ask him if he wanted me to put his penis inside my mouth. In baby talk!! You have no idea how hard it is NOT to talk baby talk to a tard.

"CAN WE HAVE SEX NOW?!" Joey interrupts me, "I want. . .Are you READY?!" He fades in and out again.

"Joey, I want to have sex with you, too, but your phone keeps breaking up, sweetie. You should hang up, and call the number and tell them that you had a problem with your phone, and then we can start all over."

"I'm going to go outside now. I'm going to go outside so you can hear me. Oh no, there are PEOPLE OUTSIDE!"

I panic envisioning a giant adult tard jacking off in his front yard, "Joey! We can't have sex outside! That's very naughty!" I can't stop the baby talk, and it's pissing me off.

"SHUSH! DON'T SAY THAT!!" He's very loud and very agitated.

"Say what? Naughty? Joey, I want to have sex with you, but I don't want people to watch us!"

"SHHHHHHHH!! Don't say that word!" He whispers loudly.

"Sex?" I'm so confused, "You don't want me to say sex?"

"SHUSH!!!!!!! SHHHHHHHHUSH!! Don't say. . .sex," He whispers it so quietly, "There are people outside! I don't want them to hear what we are saying!"

"Ok, Joey, I'm sorry. What should we do?"

"WE SHOULD GO FOR A WALK!" He says, excitedly.

"Oh, I like going for walks, Joey. Can I hold your hand when we go for a walk?"


"I am! But, Joey, I feel sad that you called me and we couldn't have. . .you know."

"WE CAN'T TALK ABOUT THAT! The people might hear you say those words and they WILL CALL THE POLICE! They will arrest me and I will GO TO JAIL!"

"I don't want you to go to jail, Joey." I realize that I can have an actual conversation with a tard and my mind races for questions to ask him.

"Are you my girlfriend?" He interrupts my train of thought, but he asks this quietly.


"Do you love me?"

"I do!"


"I live in Wisconsin. Where do you live?"




"Oh. . ."

Don't ask me where that is. I'm a phone strumpet, not a geographer!

"I bet it's nice there."

"I will come visit you! I WILL COME TO VISIT YOU WHERE YOU LIVE! I WILL TELL MY WORK..." He gets very excited and trips over his words. After a pause, he says, "I don't know if...I don't know. My work. Wait. Wait, I will go to the Stop sign then I will tell you."

"Ok, Joey, let's go to the Stop sign."

It's quiet for a moment, then suddenly: "I have to tell my work that I want to visit my GIRLFRIEND! I have to know if I have extra days. EXTRA DAYS BECAUSE SAM IS NOT AT WORK BECAUSE HE IS ON VACATION...so I have to work hours to make money to VISIT YOU."

I hear the beep telling me our time is almost up.

"Are you sad we didn't get to talk about you know what?" I ask him. I genuinely feel bad. Poor guy just wanted to get off!


"You'll call me again when your phone works in the house?!" Back to the baby talk.


"Do you remember my name?"


"That's right. Because I have to go, and if you want to talk to me, you can ask the lady for me when you call again, ok?"

"WHY! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO GO SOON?!" He sounds distraught! Poor guy.

"Because Joey, you told the lady we were going to talk for ten minutes, right?"


"Yea, and ten minutes is almost over."

"Ok. Are you my girlfriend?"

"Yes I am."


"Yes I do."

"Ok. Bye." Click.

I'm a little relieved, because I really wasn't sure if I'd be able to pull off convincing phone sex with him. I never did entirely leave the baby talk behind. It's hard to say cock and pussy and fuck in baby talk. I feel bad that Joey didn't get what he called for, though. All this time, I've been feeling bad for these guys that can't tell their girlfriends they want to wear panties. Or fuck a tranny. So they call me. Here, this poor guy just wants a girlfriend to bang when he gets off of work, and I can't even do that for him! He'd have an easier time completing a calculus course than getting some phone action with me. I am disappointed.