For some of the time I was doing it I had a boyfriend. I was a phone sex operator before we met, so he knew from the beginning. He always thought it was a little sexy, and asked if he could listen in on some calls. I let him, and it was fun for a few minutes. He got bored pretty quickly, though, and decided that if someone else was going to be the center of attention, he’d rather watch the basketball game.

In this business there is no such thing as a standard customer. Half my calls were from new customers, the other half from regulars. This, of course, is in addition to the guys who attempted to dodge expenses by asking innocent questions while trying to jerk off. I would have adolescents try to bluff me about their age and clients as old as 73. Though they came from all walks of life, a disproportionate number seemed to be lawyers and computer programmers. They were married, single, engaged, separated or pretending to be one of the above. The only common thread was that they were all horny.

Occasionally it felt sleazy, when I was just “performing” for men I didn’t like at all, but mostly it was fun, intellectually interesting and even sexy. Schoolgirl and dominatrix fantasies were common, but there were also the men who wanted me to perm their hair, or set their nipples on fire or act like a monkey. My most unusual call was from a man I dubbed “the sandwich guy,” who wanted me to pretend to be his prom date. He described driving up to my house, ringing the doorbell and greeting me in his tuxedo with his fly unzipped and his penis sticking out. His fantasy was for me to get down on my knees in the foyer of my house, wearing my prom dress, and give him head. Not too bizarre, right? The important part is that while I was doing it, he was eating a bologna sandwich. With mustard. This idea really turned him on.