On Collision Course

On Collision Course

Word count:2,910

Monday April 15 - 3 PM

It's hard for me to talk about what troubles me. Dr. Lewis said I must write a diary. He calls it "therapeutic treatment." I have no idea what he expects to read in it. I'm not going to write anything I haven't told him already or about to tell him on our next sessions.

My name is Leah. I am blonde, with slanted green eyes and have large pointed tits… Oh, sorry. This is not what I meant to say. This is what I say when I work on the hot chat line. The customers can't see me. I can say whatever I like. I'm not blonde and my tits have seen better days. I like my work. I talk to all those poor guys who don't get what they need from their wives, or don't have a wife and need an outlet. I talk real nice to them. I let them see my body by describing it. I touch them where they want me to touch them and I let them do to me anything they fancy. They always come with my help. I have by now regular customers. They feel loved and pampered with me.

My father and family know nothing about my job. They would say I'm a whore. But I'm not. I can't remember the last time I had sex. I'm single, you see, and not very young. My body is still ok. I used to work before this job on another sex line – with a camera directed at my body, but concealing my face. My customers could see and hear me, and I used to play with myself and talk to them. Same effect. They always came. The boss died on us one day so they closed down the operation. Pity.

I have to go now to see my shrink. He gets cross if I'm late. Bye. Talk to you later.

Monday April 15 - 11 PM

Just finished my shift on the phone. I had a stubborn customer who wouldn't let me talk to other customers and insisted that I'll make love to him only. My boss always tells me to keep the customers on line as long as possible. The money comes from the telephone charges. But the other customers who were listening started a loud discussion and finally I had to get rid of that maniac. I need to keep my clientele happy.

I'm going to shower now. Dr Lewis said I must love myself and my body. He said that I have a low self esteem and I must work on it. He said to look at my body in the mirror before showering and after coming out. He said my body will look softer and cleaner afterwards and I must apply some scented body cream and feel sexy and desired. He knows nothing this doctor. Low self esteem my foot! I know what I am and where I can go with that. He thinks that making sex on the phone is not an appropriate profession for a judge's daughter. So what if my father is a judge? I live my life as I see fit, and working from home suits me fine. The pay is good and my identity is protected. There are so many poor lonely souls out there, so why not help them?

Good night diary. Tomorrow I'll hand you over to Dr. Lewis. For a couple of hours anyway.

Tuesday April 16 - 8 AM

I didn't sleep well last night. I worked the late shift until 2 am and there were a few nutcases on line. They called me names, played loud music and all my regulars disconnected their lines without getting any satisfaction. That is bad for business. I think it's the competition. They would do anything to ruin our successful chat line. There must be laws against it…

I'm going now to see Dr. Lewis. I'll stop at the liquor store. I like to have some wine after dinner. It helps relax me. And some cigarettes too. Yes. I know I gave up smoking a year ago, but I feel the need. Why on earth am I so uptight? Oh no, Diary. I'm not going to tell you. If I'll tell you, Dr. Lewis will read it. I don't want him to know why I'm upset. He will go straight to my father. I know all the bull about confidentiality and the crap about doctor-patient relations, but since father pays for my visits, don't you think he expects the doctor to report to him?

Tuesday April 16 - 1 PM

My friend Jess came over for a visit. She's been my friend since primary school and she knows what I'm doing. She doesn't like it and always tries to talk me into finding a secretarial job, but who wants to work in an office, day in and day out, serve coffee to a boss and type all day business letters? Not me.

Jess brought a cake and a bottle of bubbly. It is my birthday today and I completely forgot. Even Mom forgot. She always calls me on my birthday.

We had the sparkling wine and Jess served the cake. Chocolate. My favourite. I was a bit tipsy. I felt beautiful and started to dance to music from the radio. An old Elvis song. I was floating around the room and Jess sat there watching me and smoking her thin long cigarettes. She looked worried about something, and when I asked her about it she evaded the issue and poured another glass for me. She left after a while, promising to go to the movies with me on Saturday night.

Wednesday April 17 - 12 Midnight

Just finished my shift. I didn't enjoy my work today. I had that old geezer that wanted to be flogged. Even on the phone, I don't like to do the sadism bits. His voice sounded familiar but then he started to cry and begged me to punish him 'cause he'd been a bad boy', and I talked to him as if I was his mom and helped him come.
I can't sleep again. That crying old man reminded me of someone, but who? I mustn't think about my customers. Perhaps a couple of sleeping pills will do the trick.

I must go tomorrow to the bank and cash father's cheque. I need to buy some food and a scented body cream. Dr. Lewis insists that I do as he says. Night Diary. Talk to you tomorrow.

Thursday April 18 - 10 AM

People think I'm a whore. But why? All I do is talk on the phone. I'm not selling my body and no one is touching me. Dr. Lewis said that people treat strip girls the same way. It is stupid. Would anyone call a famous actress a whore if she takes off her clothes in a movie? I've seen Siguorney Weaver's tits in a movie, but she is still respectable, isn't she? Well, people are narrow minded. I've seen it all my life. The more respectable one's position is, the more hypocrite he becomes. The façade some families put up just to avoid scandals… I can picture my father saying, "What will people say…?" All he wants to do is protect his bloody reputation. Me and mom could ruin him if we chose to tell what we know about him…

Thursday April 18 - 8 PM

My session with Dr. Lewis didn't go well. He is starting to put the pressure on me. He says I drink too much and that I shouldn't have started smoking again because it aggravates my insomnia. But it relaxes me. When I work on the line and talk for hours, I smoke now and it makes me think more sharply.

I told him about that old man who cries every time he calls me and wants to be punished. Dr. Lewis was surprised. I never before mentioned any of my customers so he asked why I chose to tell about that particular one. I don't really know, except that I would like to hear that customer talk in his regular voice, when he's not crying. The crying changes his voice and I always have a feeling that I know that voice. I've heard stories from the other girls of recognizing their landlords on the line, and one girl even had her old school master needing relief… As they say, it's a small world. I might write one day a story about a house wife whose husband was often away on business and she became a call girl just to keep busy. The punch of the story would be when she comes to a hotel to a customer and he is her husband… That would be a great story. I can write, you know. I was always good with words. Even Dr. Lewis says he enjoys reading my diary.

Saturday April 20 - 1 PM

Mom called. She was sorry for not calling me on my birthday and said she will make it up to me soon. I know what she has in mind. She would take me out for lunch, then drag me to the stores and insist on buying me some new clothes and accessories. She always does that. What do I care? I don't need fancy and expensive clothes. I'm not going out much.

I asked about father and she said he's been depressed lately because he's about to retire in a month time and doesn't know how he's going to cope with retirement. Ha! He should have acquired a hobby or two except for that golf game, something like gardening, collecting coins and stamps, photography or cycling. Something that would keep him busy when his days as a judge would be over. But no! Not my father. He was too busy to do anything for relaxation. Work, work, work! That was all he thought about. He never let mom invite friends or family for dinner. The only ones invited were his colleagues and an assortment of influential people. Nothing was too good for those! The best wines and food, light entertainment in the house like classical music played by a quartet or a pianist, a few opera singers – that kind of stuff. He is a pompous snob, my father, and from what I've heard, a real mean judge.

I am his oldest child, and a thorn in his side. He nearly killed me when I dropped out of law school and said I was leaving home. But he sends his cheque every month. He can't afford having an unemployed daughter who lives in a loft in a "not so respectable" neighbourhood.

I'm going to take a bath now and smear on that scented body lotion. I will smell like a harlot, but I want to prove Dr. Lewis wrong. The scent, nice or not will not make me love myself more. I do like myself, most of the time, and I don't like strong odours coming from anyone. My father used to pour on himself bottles of aftershave lotions and always said that a judge on a bench should be noticed not only by his presence but also by his scent. Where he got that notion - I haven't got a clue. It is nowhere in any of the law books I studied…

Saturday April 20 - 11 PM

Went to a movie with Jess. Lord of the Rings – The Two Towers. Was not bad. A bit long, and doesn't go exactly like the book which I've read many times. The scenery from New Zealand is breathtaking, and that actor who plays Aragorn, he's a real charmer. I like him. Jess liked the movie too.

We went to a nice Italian restaurant and had a late dinner, then we walked a bit and said goodnight. Jess thinks I must find a regular job. She keeps nagging at it. She can form an alliance with Dr. Lewis. He might like her and ask her out. He's a widower. Not bad looking. Not my type by the way. As if I know what my type is…. Oops… He's going to read this! Well, never mind. If I'll cross that out he will start nagging with questions about the "deep secret" I'm hiding from him! Let him read it. At least he'll know I don't have a crash on him like many female patients have.

I'm due on my chat in ten minutes. I'm sure that old crooner will be there as soon as I get on the line. I wish he wouldn't call anymore. I'm not cut out to be anyone's mother.

Sunday April 21 - 5 AM

Dr. Lewis, if you're reading this, I must tell you that this is going to be the last time I'm handing over my diary to you. I've been thinking that since I'm not telling you anything that can be used against me when you report to my father, why should you read it at all?

Let me go get some rest. 3 hours on line can sometimes be tiring. The crying old men was a load-full tonight. He said he's depressed and that he needs extra attention. He tried to muffle his voice when he made regular conversation, and I had a feeling that he did it on purpose, as if trying to hide his identity. It bothered me since I never ask the customers for their name and I don't give out my real name either. Protection for both parties. The general way he spoke sounded familiar. Perhaps he's the Mayor? Or the Police Chief? God knows. Good night Diary and dear doctor. Talk to you soon.

Tuesday April 23 - 5 PM

Thank God I have you Diary. They wouldn't let me bring in here any of my personals, but I heard the nurse say it was written on the admission form to let me have a pencil and my diary.

They committed me to the mad house. Asylum. Hospital for the mentally ill. Call it what you will. It must have been my father. I didn't think he was going to do it. One word to the media and he would really be embarrassed. I can blow the whistle on him, but being a "guest" here, who would believe me?

I'm feeling dizzy. They had to sedate me because I didn't go willingly. Why did I resist? Well, I'm not crazy. They said I was when they came to fetch me: An ambulance and two body-builders for male nurses. Cute tight asses. I argued and wanted to call Jess and my boss but those goons wouldn't let me move. One of them stuck a needle in my arm, but before it took control over me, I flung my right arm straight at his nose. I managed to see him wipe the blood from his face before I succumbed to the wonders of induced sleep.

Tuesday April 23 - 8 PM

They let me have supper with some of the local loonies. I'm considered neither dangerous nor suicidal so I'm safe to join those unfortunate misfits.

After supper they all went to the lounge to watch a video. I went along but one old lady kept clapping hands every few minutes and a young man with a shaved head whistled every time the hero in the movie opened his mouth, so, I got up discretely and went back to my room.

I know you have a lot of questions Diary, and since Dr. Lewis is never going to put a hand or an eye on you, sweetheart, I can tell you everything.

Remember that crooner I told you about? Well, on Monday morning, as soon as I got on the chat line, he was there. He shouted and cried and said that his Mommy insists that he'd quit his job, sit at home all day and do nothing. I listened to him and at one instant when he said, "What would people say?" I knew who he was. Beyond any reasonable doubt. He forgot to muffle his voice and when he said that sentence, I just knew. He was my honourable father, the judge. The one that couldn't come unless his mom punished him first. The one that cried and said he was a bad boy. My father. I was so stunned by the realization that I said to him, "Is that you, father?" He nearly choked in the middle of a sentence, cleared his voice and said, "And who are you young lady? I was talking to a friend and I believe we have a case of crossed lines. Would you clear the line please so I can continue my conversation?" Always was a quick thinker, my father. But it did him no good that time. I knew who he was, and I'm certain he realized what has happened. He didn't know about my occupation, but there was only one female in the world who could call him "father" and that was me.

He disconnected the line and I sat there, thinking what would be his next move. I felt sick thinking of the intimate talks I had with him, the many times I helped him come… his tearful thanks and my smiles when he promised to be a "good boy"…

So, here I am, in a private hospital for the insane, which is where he sent me in order to protect his precious reputation. My sick old judge of a father.


Hanna © January 2004