February 5, 2013


I lived in dread of mixing up my phone-sex job with my tech support job. While a sexy laugh and a description of my breasts might have gotten me good results from retirees who needed their televisions fixed, I couldn’t imagine it going over well with my managers. What I didn’t realize was that that wasn’t the way the mix-up was actually going to go.

The session itself wasn’t anything to write home about. I told him all about how good he made me feel and how much I wanted him, and he was done in pretty short order. He was one of the ones who stuck around for pillow talk. More time means more money for me, so I asked him how his night was going.

“Well, after that, I’d be great all around if my fuckin’ Internet worked!”

“Oh,” I said without thinking about it. “Are you going through a router or are you plugged straight into the wall?”

As it turned out, he was using a router. One hard reboot later, he was back online, and I realized that my life was getting seriously weird.

21st Century employment.

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