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From: freddy fox <freddy.fox27@somewhere.net>
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Subject: Re: #1 ***** NEW EROTIC TG JOB DESCRIPTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Date: Mon, 28 Dec 2009 22:24:46 -0000
===================
Why the bloody hell post this SEVEN times, once would have been enough!
"newsgroup" <""admin\"@(newsgroup)tgstories.com"> wrote in message
news:19Kdnaefb55-ORHXnZ2dnUVZ_hGdnZ2d@giganews.com...
>
> For the best TG stories:
>
> http://www.tgstories.com
>
>
> JOB DESCRIPTION
>
> "No, mom, I haven't found a job yet." Jason sighed into the phone. He
> closed his eyes and massaged his brow as he listened to his mother's
> voice.
> The muscular, dark-haired man shifted in his seat. "Yes. I remember you
> told me that choosing to become an actor was a bad idea." Of course he
> remembered - she never let him forget. Nor did she ever let go of the
> topic she suddenly switched to next. He sighed again. "No, mom, I'm not
> seeing anyone right now... Uh huh... I know, but..." It was impossible
> to get an word in edgewise against her vocal tirade.
> "Look, mom...mom... MA! I have to go, okay? Yes, I'll talk to you next
> week. Love you. 'bye."
> With great relief, Jason dropped the receiver into it's cradle, stretching
> to do so. His shoulders slumped wearily as his mother's shrill voice
> echoed in his mind. Ever since he'd moved to L.A. to get away from her
> over-bearing presence, his weekly telephone calls had been near exact
> carbon copies of one another. It was starting to get a little more that
> annoying, he thought angrily.
> Giving the phone one last, angry glare (which he'd never dared to give his
> mother), Jason Dixon pushed his muscular, six-foot three body out of the
> worn easy chair. Grabbing his keys from the table beside the door, he
> slipped on a pair of sandals and trotted down the stairs of the apartment
> building to retrieve his paper.
> Reading the headlines, he slowly mounted the staircase and absently
> re-entered his apartment. Dropping his keys in their usual place, he
> kicked off the footwear, the wandered over to the kitchen table.
> Collapsing onto the chair, he spread the paper on the table and flipped
> over to the employment section of the paper. Picking up a pen, he began
> to scan the job listings looking for work.
> Twenty six years old, Jason was finally starting to live his own life.
> Until three months ago, he'd lived in a large, rambling old farmhouse in
> Iowa, the sole offspring of a shrewish, overweight woman who had raised
> her son alone ever since her husband had died when the boy was three.
> Definitely over protective, Mrs. Dixon had raised her son in an
> oppressive atmosphere. In retaliation, Jason had started to rebel at an
> early age.
> Since she didn't want him involved in sports ('You'll break your neck
> playing those damn games!'), he'd joined nearly every team he could in
> both junior and senior high school. Likewise his decision to become an
> actor came almost immediately after his mother's angry tirade about those
> 'useless, shiftless, overpaid people in Hollywood'. After he'd finally
> graduated from the states only collage offering Film classes, the decision
> to move out to the coast had been easy.
> Where, he found almost immediately, an acting degree from a school in Iowa
> meant next to nothing. As one agent had put it - 'That and a quarter will
> buy you a cup of coffee'.
> Like hell it would. The cheapest cup of coffee to be had in California
> was seventy-five cents, and could double as roofing tar.
> The death of his father had been on the job, and the insurance had left
> Mrs. Dixon fairly well off. He'd come to the coast with a old, but well
> maintained Mustang, and a few grand in his pocket to 'tide him over'.
> Now, that nest egg was almost gone, and the pressure to find work - any
> work - was increasing. Still, Jason would rather end up as a bum in L.A.
> then ever go back home again.
> Well, maybe not. Time was running out, and he was beginning to get
> desperate. Now, as he sat hunched over the paper, he scanned every single
> listing for the slightest chance for employment, and a continued life away
> from his mother.
> The ad, three pages in and halfway down the page, almost slipped by him.
> The heading - LADIES! NEED TO EARN EXTRA INCOME FROM THE COMFORT OF YOUR
> OWN HOME? - meant that he almost skipped it completely, until the tiny
> disclaimer at the bottom of the ad caught his eye.
> 'Applicable male applicants may also be selected.'
> Mentally shrugging, Jason went back to the top of the add and read the
> whole thing.
> It was an add for 'phone sex girls'.
> Oh, it didn't state it that way - adult tele-entertainers was the wording
> used. But the possible income, up to ten grand a month, looked nice. The
> way Jason figured it, that number was greatly exaggerated - still, half of
> that would be more accurate, and five grand a month was nothing to sneer
> at.
> Now, most men would sneer at the idea of doing this work. Not only
> pretending to be female over the phone, but to have a verbally simulated
> sexual encounter with another man? No way.
> But Jason seriously considered it, for two reasons.
> In film class, he'd learned he had an amazing gift to imitate voices, male
> AND female.
> And, he was really, really desperate.
> Picking up the paper, he carried it over to the phone. He sat for several
> minutes, staring absently at the paper in indecision, the finally,
> reaching forward and picking up the receiver. Before he could change his
> mind, he punched in the number listed in the add.
> "Omni Tele-Entertainment." A rusty voice answered after four rings. "Can I
> help you?"
> "Uh..." Jason said uncomfortably. "I'm calling about that job listing.
> The one in the paper."
> A short pause. "Look, buddy, you do know what we're looking for, don't
> you?"
> Jason took a deep breath. Calling his talent into play, he forced his
> voice into it's higher registers and replied in a breathy, sensual voice.
> "Oh, yes, I know what you're looking for. I know exactly what you want."
> He couldn't believe how utterly stupid he felt 'coming on' to another guy,
> but if it paid the rent...
> "Is that really you buddy? Holy Shit! That's amazing!" The voice,
> previously lack-luster, had taken on some animation.
> "Oh? Do you really zink zo?" Jason asked in a sexy soprano with a French
> accent. He switched suddenly to a warm, chipper contralto with a strong
> southern accent. "Y'all think I'se can get a job? Earn me some
> greenbacks?"
> There was a couple of seconds stunned silence at the other end. When it
> spoke again, the hoarse voice was filled with reverence. "Mister," it
> said, "you sound sexier than most of the women I got working for me. I
> can guarantee you'll earn at least eight grand a month, if you still want
> the job."
> Well, it wasn't a job to brag about - and definitely not one to write home
> about - but it would pay well. Jason and 'Gordon, call me Gordo, McNair',
> the owner of the rusty voice, discussed it. Gordo promised to come by the
> next morning. He'd bring a phone technician to install a second line into
> the apartment, and have Jason sign the employment papers.
> When Jason finally hung up, he sighed. As odd as it was to think about
> what he was going to be doing for a living, at least it beat the hell out
> of having to go back home.
> * * * * *
> Gordo was as good as his word.
> A short, ferrety looking man with a shock of greasy hair, he showed up
> first thing in the morning wearing a rumbled brown suit that looked like
> he'd slept in it. With him was a bored looking man in a blue jumpsuit,
> wearing a tool belt and carrying a red phone in one hand.
> While Jason and Gordo had signed the necessary papers, the telephone guy
> had installed the phone. Unlike regular phones, the red device had no
> key-pad - merely a red light and a small switch.
> "This is how it works," Gordo had explained, showing Jason the phone.
> "Whenever you're available, you push this switch up, and the red light
> goes on. That means the main switchboard knows it can route calls here.
> If you ain't available - even if it's a bathroom break - you switch it
> off. This phone's got a special ringer, see, so you'll know which phone
> is ringing."
> The pay structure was equally as easy. Jason would earn a buck fifty each
> minute he was on the phone. He set his own hours, working as many hours a
> day as he wanted. Of course, the peak hours - five in the evening to five
> in the morning - were the best to work, if Jason didn't mind changing his
> sleeping habits to accommodate it.
> Now, having watched the little man and his silent companion leave, Jason
> gingerly lowered himself into the comfortable easy chair beside the new
> phone. Warily, as if afraid it would bite him, Jason reached out and
> flicked the switch, to be rewarded with the glowing red light. Since it
> wasn't peak hours, he settled back into the chair and tried to read a
> book, since it might be some time before anyone got routed to him.
> The first call came twenty two minutes later.
> Startled by the low, thrumming ring, Jason quickly put down the book -
> which he'd been unable to focus on - and took a deep breath. With a
> slightly trembling hand, he reached for the phone. Taking a deep breath,
> he picked it up.
> Shifting into a low, sexy female voice, Jason said "Hi. I'm Veronica.
> What's your name?..."
> * * * * *
> Two days later, Jason was feeling more comfortable - if no less weird -
> about his new job.
> He had shifted his sleep cycles to match the peak hours, an was doing good
> business - his phone was very rarely on the hook. He'd learned the basic
> trick to this line of work, as well - let the client set the tone, then
> give him what he wants. It worked well.
> It still felt weird though.
> He'd just hung up from a call when the phone buzzed again. Picking up the
> receiver, Jason picked a voice that was simultaneously cheerful and sexy,
> and said. "Hi! I'm Randi. What's your name?"
> The voice that replied held a faint undercurrent of amusement, as if it's
> owner was indulging in a private joke. "Hi Randi. You can call
> me...Joe."
> The hesitation before the innocuous name didn't surprise Jason. Many of
> his callers gave fake names. "Hi, Joe."
> "So," Joe asked, "where are you from, Randi?"
> Jason faked a bright, sexy laugh. "I'm a true California girl, Joe." It
> was a standard 'opening', and Jason always matched the birthplace to the
> voice - Yvette, his 'French Maid' was from St. Lo, for instance. Jason
> had thought it would lend verisimilitude to Yvette if he didn't pick the
> obvious, Paris.
> The next question was pretty standard, too. "Describe yourself for me,
> Randi."
> "Well, I'm laying on my bed," Jason started, making it up as he went
> along. "The phone is between my long, sexy legs. The long, red
> fingernails of my left hand are lightly stroking my crotch. I'm using the
> other one to hold the phone to my ear."
> "Go on." The voice, still laced with humor, urged.
> Jason gave Joe a giggle. "My long, wavy blonde hair is spread out beneath
> my body. It doesn't quite reach my firm, sexy ass. It stops at my really
> slim waist." Jason paused, then threw in "I had to exercise a lot to get
> my waist so wonderfully small." He finished that statement with a giggle.
> "What about your face?" the voice urged. That was a little unusual - most
> callers didn't care about the face, after all - but not unheard of.
> Well, since he'd said he was a blonde... "I've got pale, blue eyes and
> really long lashes. But people say the best part of my face is my sexy
> lips."
> "And your breasts? How big are they?" Joe asked.
> Jason paused for the barest instant. This call was unusual. By now, the
> other voice was usually getting excited. Also, with a loaded question
> about 'her' breasts - usually, tits or boobs, actually - the tone usually
> gave some indication of what the caller wanted to hear. But Joe's voice
> was the same calm, amused voice as when they'd started.
> Jason decided to 'Go-for-broke'. "They're huge." He cooed, hoping that
> Joe liked 'em big. "Absolutely enormous."
> The voice still held no trace of either approval or disappointment. "The
> nipples?"
> "Really big, sexy ones."
> "What kind of shoes do you like to wear, Randi?"
> Definitely getting weirder. By now, they'd be into the 'sex' part, not
> discussing footwear. "I love high-heels. The taller the better. They
> make my walk so sexy."
> Joe continued with his questions. "And what type of clothes do you wear?'
> Jason was really starting to wonder about this guy. "I love sexy clothes
> that show of my fabulous body. Clothes that really turn men on." He said.
> Where the hell was this going?
> Then again, Jason thought, it didn't really matter. As long as Joe stayed
> on the line, Jason kept making money.
> "So, Randi, what do you do for fun?" Joe asked next.
> "Oh, I love to be in public and turn men on." Jason improvised off the
> cuff. "One of my goals in life is to give every man who sees me a raging
> hard-on. I want to be a walking 'come on' to every dick on the planet."
> Jason 'giggled'. Randi was quite the bimbo, Jason thought with a smile.
> "What about sex?" Joe asked. Still, the same amused tone.
> "Oh, I love sex. I'm so great at it too. I have this incredibly long
> tongue, so I give mind-blowing head. My cunt is really tight, and I know
> just how to use it. I also love getting tit fucked - in fact I just love
> the feel of cum on me, everywhere." Finally, it was getting back on track.
> Joe's next question was heading in the right direction too.
> "Tell me, Randi." He asked, "What's your ultimate fantasy?"
> Hmm... "I'd love to meet this group of guys - collage students," Jason
> said, making it up as he went, "who are all, like, perfect studs. They'd
> invite me to this party. I'd get all dressed up, really sexy, and go to
> their frat house. We'd party for a bit, then they'd ask me to strip,
> right? So I would, real sexy like. They'd all get really turned on, and
> it would get all their huge, thick cocks hard."
> Jason paused for a second to see whether Joe liked where this was going.
> Apparently he did.
> "Go on," he urged, "tell me every kinky detail." Oddly enough, his voice
> was still level. Oh well, let's see if I can't change that, Jason
> thought. He didn't realize that, for the first time, he was actually
> enjoying a call. It was a challenge, and Jason loved challenges.
> Kinky details, hmm?
> "Well, this is what would happen...."
> Half an hour later, voice still perfectly level with a hint of amusement,
> Joe thanked him and hung up.
> For some reason, Jason felt vaguely... cheated.
> Hours later, the odd call was forgotten, blurred by the dozens of roughly
> similar calls in the interval.
> * * * * * *
> Jason yawned and blinked, rolling over to check the time on the clock. The
> late afternoon sun was kept of the apartment by the drawn blinds, leaving
> the apartment dim.
> Jason rolled out of bed and stretched mightily. Slipping a bathrobe on
> over his boxer shorts, he headed to the kitchen and started a pot of
> coffee brewing, then popped into the bathroom for his 'morning' ritual of
> shit, shave, shower and shampoo.
> Returning to the kitchen, he fixed himself a cup of coffee. Opening the
> fridge, he leaned against the open door and tried to decide what to make
> for 'breakfast'.
> Just then the phone - his regular phone - rang. Letting the door to the
> fridge swing shut, Jason carried his coffee mug into the living room.
> Taking a sip of the steaming liquid, he put the mug down and picked up the
> phone.
> "Hi, Randi speaking." He said in a bubbly, sexy voice.
> And stopped dead, a shocked look on his face. He hadn't tried to use a
> feminine voice, and why the hell had he called himself Randi?
> A voice was issuing through the receiver, trying to extol the virtues of a
> long distance company, but Jason wasn't paying attention. Absently, he
> hung up the phone.
> "What the hell is going on?" he asked out loud, hearing the same chipper,
> feminine soprano. He cleared his throat repeatedly.
> "Testing, testing.... What the fuck is wrong with me?" he said angrily,
> unable to change to sound of his voice to anything other than the same
> bright, sexy voice.
> Closing his eyes and forcing himself to calm down, Jason concentrated on
> producing his own, male voice.
> "I am Randi Dixon....FUCK!" He finished. Not only had he still used the
> same voice, but he'd said Randi when he'd tried to say Jason.
> Jason tried to say his own name again, then again when he failed. No
> matter how hard he tried, all that came out was 'Randi', in a feminine
> voice.
> "This is too fucking weird."
> He took a deep breath and tried a different line of attack.
> "The name of that guy from the horror movies is...Jason."
> So far, so good. He smiled at the sound of the name he wanted to say,
> even if it was in a sexy, feminine voice. Next step.
> "My name is the same as his."
> Okay. Now, the sneak attack.
> He concentrated hard. While he spoke, he pretended he was that horror
> character. He was that guy, so, his name would be...
> "My name is Randi"
> "GOD DAMN IT TO HELL!" Jason roared. Well, tried to, any way. The cute,
> sexy voice he was helplessly speaking in was particularly ill suited for
> roaring.
> What the hell was going on?
>
> Just the beginning…
>
> IF YOU WANT TO READ THIS REST OF THIS STORY, IT CAN ONLY BE FOUND AT:
>
> http://www.tgstories.com
>