My name is whatever you want it to be. Some days it varies. I’m known as Amber, Rachael, Kira, Monique, Jessica, Danielle, Jaqueline, Talia, Brandy, Ashleigh, Sarah, Lisa, Giselle, and many more. I’m a 5’10” busty blonde today; tomorrow I’ll be a 5’7” brunette stunner. I like it sweet, I like it slow; I like it rough, I like it dirty. I’m the girl next door; I’m the bad girl your mother warned you about. I’m all your wildest fantasies rolled into one, at the meager price of $4.95p/m.

Yes, that’s right, I’m a telephone operator, specialising in taking calls of a sexual nature.

Calls can last anywhere from 2 seconds to two hours. The shorter duration calls are when most people get scared and hang up, the longer calls are sometimes more intimate, however most just sit and breathe heavily down the phone while mumbling to themselves. (hey, it’s your money, you can spend it however you like). By the way, two hours at $4.95p/m will cost about $600

When most people find out what I do for a living, their first question (after they try and disguise the standard look of surprise on their face) is usually, “How did you get into that?” to which I mostly give a simple one-lined answer: “I just sort of fell into it.” But because you just went out and spent your hard earned, I’ll give you a little more detail.

It’s not a long story, although I refrain from telling it to people because I’ve found that others generally aren’t interested in what you have to say in the first place. It’s like when people ask “How are you?” and nobody waits for an answer, because essentially the question was hypothetical anyway.

Some people are genuinely interested to know the story though, so if I receive a look that suggests that I should elaborate, then I’ll gladly continue.

The truth is, I really did just fall into it. Literally.

I was coming from a job interview in downtown Sydney. The position was in management, for a company that outsourced to many different professional organisations and their respective businesses and call centers around the world. I had waited months for this opportunity and I was really excited when I got the call.

So off I went, dressed in style, hair tied back, strutting in with my amazing résumé, thinking that it would have been impossible for them not to hire me.

Long story short, I blew it.

The amazing dream job, the career building opportunity of a lifetime, had just fluttered away from me in less than forty-five minutes.

I was devastated.

I left the interview proudly, though when the elevator doors closed behind me, I let out a long sigh. My shoulders slumped and I hung my head, staring at the floor for the nineteen-level journey as the feeling of rejection grew.

I got to the foyer and was walking across the marble floor when I heard someone call out my name. I turned around, only to see my rotten ex-boyfriend coming towards me. I politely said hello, as he asked what I was doing in this particular part of town. I told him I’d just come from an interview that I’d completely blown and mentioned the company that it was for. He roared with laughter and told me that the same company had asked him back for a second interview, and that was where he was headed now.

I felt the fury build up inside of me and I quickly excused myself, lying about a hair appointment I was supposedly late for. The image still burns in my mind of him standing there laughing as I made my exit from the building.

After passing through the revolving doors I paused momentarily for a breath before continuing down the stairs that led to the street below. I was so flustered at the time, emotions tearing through me, that I lost my footing and fell down the stairs (very un-gracefully), and slammed into a dark-skinned man wearing a suit and carrying a bunch of papers. Needless to say, he (and his papers) went flying as I bowled him over.

That was the last straw. The tears started flowing down my face as I apologized to the man and helped him collect his belongings.

“I’m sorry,” I cried. “I’m so, so sorry.”

I glanced up at the man and realised that he was rather handsome. His voice was so gentle, it made me feel at ease.

“Sweetheart, why the tears?” He asked as he helped me up from the ground. “Such a pretty young thing shouldn’t have a reason to cry.”

“It’s been a hard morning,” I replied.

“Why don’t you tell me about it,” he said, raising a hand gently to my tear-stained face. “I’m on my way to lunch, would you like to join me?”

His touch was so soft, my face almost quivered as he moved his hand away. He then did something that surprised me. He pulled me in closer and wrapped his arms around me for a hug. It was exactly what I needed just then, and as I stood there blubbering in his arms I noticed that he smelled amazing. This stranger was [excitedly] intoxicating. He leaned back and peered at my face. His mouth was inches from mine and our eyes met; I was deeply under his spell and all bad feelings of the morning were gone. I agreed to lunch.

So far it's better than anything Dan Brown has ever had published. Keep up the good work.