FanStory.com - Phone Sex (a repost)by Spitfire
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Phone Sex (a repost) by Spitfire

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.


CHARACTERS:
                    HE:        28.   Unattractive.  Jeans and a muscle shirt 
                    SHE:     76. Wrinkled and grey.   Housecoat and slippers.

SETTING:  A bare stage except for a comfortable chair SR and an end table with a telephone
                    book on it.   A  rocking chair SL has an end table with a fruit bowl, phone and 
                    knitting basket .

AT RISE:  Two spotlights, one on each chair.   SHE is knitting. HE enters SR with a cell
                  phone, picks up the phone book and chooses a page at random, sits,  dials         
                  a number.  SHE hears her phone ring and answers. Her voice is young, friendly
                  and full of life in spite of her age.

SHE: (picking up a phone that just rang) Hello. (silence) Hello a second time.

HE: (heavily breathing into his phone.)

SHE: Oh dear! You have the wrong number. Dial 9l1.

HE: You were so hot last night.

SHE: I’m sorry?

HE: Your mouth on mine.

SHE: I get it! You need artificial respiration.

HE: What?

SHE. Give me your address. I’ll call 911.

HE: Lady-- I mean-- honey, I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t hurt you last night.
       We were at it for a solid two hours. You’re a great –

SHE: Oh geez, you’re one of those.

HE: One of what?

SHE: A dick weed.

HE: I love it when you talk dirty. Say, Sweetheart, did I leave my jock strap in your bed?

SHE: What’s it look like?

HE: You’re kidding.

SHE. I have twenty in my basement right now. Describe it.

HE: Never mind.

SHE: If you want it back, send me money for shipping and handling.

HE: (seductively) I stole your black lace panties. I’m sniffing them right now.

SHE: Really? I only rinsed them after my last bout of diarrhea.

HE: You’re crazy, lady. How old are you anyway?

SHE: Twenty something. And you?

HE: That’s confidential information.

SHE: What do you weigh?

HE: Huh?

SHE: (louder) What do you weigh?

HE: One hundred and eighty. What’s it to ya?

SHE: Check the scales tomorrow.

HE: I don’t understand.

SHE: (primly) I should have told you from the start. I’m a Christian. When I ask, God answers.
        Tonight I’ll pray your body parts fall off.

HE: May you grow old and wrinkled!

SHE: Too late. (hangs up) I love these calls. They make my day.

 Curtain.


        


Recognized

Author Notes
Many of my fans have read this, but I wanted to repost it for those who missed it.

     

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