So Sheer. Really sheer! Sheer Sheer.

Originally posted September 24, 2007

I tend to like my 30 minute calls. Not only because I get paid more, which is nice, but because the guys usually have their whole fantasy planned out and I just have to make sound effects in the right places. I'm like the black guy from the Police Academy movies, only phone sexier. It seems that, for a lot of them, just the act of telling me their fantasies gets them off.

Take Oliver for example. Mindy tells me he calls from time to time and he's really into pantyhose and stockings and violent humiliation and choking. I make sure I have my belt ready for spanking and tell her to put him on.

When Oliver says hello to me, his voice is already thick with anticipation, and he starts right in. "So, I have this really strong fetish for stockings and pantyhose, are you familiar with this sort of thing?"

"Oh yes, I am."

"Do you like to wear stockings or pantyhose?" he asks. He's talking in a hoarse whisper so I have to listen very closely. You don't really want to make them repeat themselves.

"I LOVE them! But, not the cheap ones you get in the drug store in those little eggs..."

"Oh, no!" he exclaims, as though that's the worst thing one could do.

"Oh no. I'm talking about the expensive ones you get from the department store, the ones that feel like silk." I try to make my voice as silky as the pantyhose.

"Oh yea! Me too! You know, you can pay like $25 or more for a good pair of pantyhose." He sounds like he's panting.

"Oh, I know, but it's worth it because they feel soooo good." We're whispering excitedly, new friends who've discovered a sexy common interest. I always try to match a guy's tone, his inflection, his volume, his excitement.

"They soft...I like them when they're really sheer, though, you know," he explains, his voice thick and husky.

"Oh yea, so you almost can't tell I'm even wearing pantyhose until you run your hand up my leg."

"Ultra sheer. I love when they're so sheer you can see right through them."

He repeats this another 317 times throughout the conversation.

"Did you know they have a measurement scale for pantyhose?" he asks me.

"They do?!" The shock and surprise in that statement is genuine.

"It's called the denier." He launches into a lengthy, detailed explanation of the denier. Now, I can't remember the name of this scale or really how it works. I'm dumbfounded that he knows down to the technical details how sheer he loves his pantyhose. I have to do a Google search after the call to fill in the blanks in his explanation.

Essentially, the denier is a number expressing the weight of the material used to create the stockings. The lighter the thread, or the lower the number of deniers, the finer the weave. Your regular, everyday pantyhose are 30d, ultra sheer can go from 15d, 12d or 10d.

As immensely uninteresting as the pantyhose measurement scale may be, Oliver gasps frantically through the explaination. Especially when he gets to the 8d, his favorites. So delicate, they won't even last through one wearing.

"Oh, so they're practically invisible, huh?" I say.

"Yea. Do you like stockings?" he asks me. I'm momentarily confused, I thought we'd already covered this information. Then I remember that there is a difference between pantyhose and stockings. Stockings are thigh-highs.

"Yes, I like stockings better than pantyhose even!"

"You do?" He sounds disappointed. I wonder if I said the wrong thing. I have to stick by my story, though.

"Uh huh. They're so much naughtier," I try to reason, "I like going out in a nice dress, or even to work in my suit, with my thigh highs on."

"Yea, I like that too," he confesses. Phew! "Do you ever wear them for a guy when you go out?"

"Oh, absolutely! I like to tease him a little bit. Like, when I get in your car, I'll move so my skirt rides up a little so you can just see the tops of my stockings and know I'm wearing them."

"But the sheer ones right?" he says, thickly.

"Uh huh. I like the vintagey look, with the clips and a garter belt. They're softer than your skin even, and it's so hot to take your hand and slide it up my thigh and see the look on your face when you realize that I've got stockings on..."

He's breathing fast and hard, and his voice gets thicker with every sentence. "Have you ever seen the movie Rider on the Rain?"

"NO! Tell me about it, Oliver, is it about stockings?" Such a seemingly random transition! I guess we're getting down to the nitty gritty, my work is pretty much done.

"Well, kinda. See, it's an early 70s movie, so the main actress was wearing those stockings with the clips like you were saying."

"Really?!" I gasp. "The sheer ones?"

"Yea! The sheer ones, and she holds them up to the light and you can barely tell she's holding anything," he says, so excited now.

"And you could see right through them, I bet!"

"Yea, she holds them up and you can see her face through them. So sheer. . . And there's this guy, he sees her coming home from work so he starts following her. And one day, he breaks into her apartment before she gets home."

"Oh! This sounds like a good movie!"

"It is! It's called Riders on the Rain, you should rent it."

"I will!" I actually write "rider on the rain" across the top of my notebook. "Tell me more, what happens when he breaks in her apartment?"

"Well, he hides in the closet, and he takes off all his clothes, and he can see her through a crack, and she's on the bed and she takes one of those stockings off." He talks quickly, disjointedly. He is thoroughly enjoying telling me this story.

"Oh, that sounds so hot!" I circle rider on the rain and scribble the circle so it looks like a big cloud, then I draw a lighting bolt and some fat rain drops.

"It is! And you know what he does then?" his voice drops back down to a whisper, so mine does, too.

"No, what does he do?" I try to make it sound like I'm on the edge of my seat, with my eyes wide.

"He jumps out of the closet and just jumps on her..."

"He rapes her?!" I gasp.

"Yea, he does, and you don't see anything, you just see their feet and you can tell they're struggling and he's inside her now. And then you see her moving her arm, like she's trying to find a weapon and she grabs her stocking she took off before, and you know what she does with it?"

"What does she do?"

"She chokes him."

I gasp. Shocked. Scandalized!

"Yea, you see her wrap her stocking around his neck and she looks mad, you know, and you know how mad she is?"

"How mad is she?"

"So mad she kills him!"

"Oh wow! Have you ever been choked with a stocking, Oliver?"

"Yes!" His breath is really fast and shallow now.

"Can I choke you with my stocking, Oliver?"

"Will you?" his voice falters. "Tell me what you would do if I jumped out of your closet and started to rape you?"

"Well, I'd try to fight you off, but you'd be so strong and so turned on by my one leg with that stocking on, so soft and silky, so sheer, rubbing up your legs and back, teasing your inner thigh...I'd grab that extra stocking and wrap it around your neck, but I'd want to tease you before I killed you."

"You would?" he gulps.

"Uh huh. I'd take that stocking and rub it slowly back and forth across your throat as I pulled it tighter, and I'd squeeze you as tight as I could with my legs because I can feel you getting ready to cum."

"I am! I'm ready to cum!"

"I know," I grit my teeth, "so I'm pulling that stocking tighter, and tighter, staring you right in the eyes as I choke you."

He loses it here and I high five myself. He thanks me and tells me that was fun. I tell him I had a great time and I'm going to rent this movie tomorrow. He laughs and thanks me again.

I think it's so sweet that they thank me. The majority of my callers thank me at the end. I've worked customer service jobs before, and I've never been shown this much appreciation. It's sort of nice in a completely fucked up way. Often, after a call, I'll IM Dennis with my tally.

"Made three guys come so far! HIGH 5!!"

"God, you're such a whore!" he replies.

"I know! YAY!!" I laugh, "I remixed a Queen song."


"Dun. Dun. Dun. Another guy shoots his load!"