Payphone Perverts

Greetings, readers, from your friendly fellow film freak, C.J. For my submission to this months issue, Ive decided to do something different. I think we could all use a break from the movie reviews, right?

Today Im offering an expose on the secret world of payphone perverts! Thats right, there really is an entire population of anonymous sex junkies who most of us never meet because we never bother to pick up that annoying payphone that always seems to be ringing as we walk past. And in this article, well scratch the surface of their seamy, sticky world! Until an experience I had about 10 years back, I, too, was oblivious to this secret world of sex freaks living just below the surface of our normal society.

The story Im about to share with you is 100% true, with some obvious paraphrasing due to the length of time and amount of pot smoked since it occurred. But I want to assure you; its ALL TRUE!!

My tawdry little tale takes place in Pittsburgh, Pa., at the beginning of the last decade, when I was an oh-so-young man. As I said earlier, most of us have passed public payphones that are ringing at some point. In my neighborhood, there was one payphone that seemed to be ringing every time I passed it. This particular phone was on the side of CoGos Convenience store on Potomac Avenue, across the street from the subway stop in Dormont.

Things got interesting one hot summer when I stopped at the store with my good friend and co-worker, Kevin Kizer, to pick up a pack of smokes and some Doritos. As was often the case, I noticed the phone ringing as I walked past on my way out, preparing to get into my truck. Curiosity and my normal good cheer got the best of me and I decided to go back and answer the phone.

Hello? I said. Who is this? answered the throaty voice on the other end. This is Tom, whos this? I responded. This is Angela, what are you doing right now Tom? OK, at this point, Im more than intrigued. Remember, I was only 19 at the time and the level of libido at that age is ridiculous. Despite a little trepidation at the level of bass in the voice, I decided to proceed with this interesting conversation and I waved for Kevin, who was waiting impatiently in the truck, to come over to the phone and provide assistance.

So, Tom. If you came over to my place right now and came in and saw me laying naked on the floor, what would you do to me? Whatever you want me to, was my lame-o response. Would you fuck me? was her next question. Before I answered, I had to ask The Question, because I had doubts from the beginning but my level of horniness held all doubt in check up to that point. Are you a man Angela? No! Why would you say that? she replied in the same voice which was now sounding more deep and raspy rather than throaty. Because you sound like a man. I reiterated. Im 100 percent woman baby, and I need cock, now. How big is your dick? I need a big dick to satisfy me.

In half of my mind at this point, were preparing to recreate a scene from Penthouse Letters, the other half was thinking more of a scene from Kiss of the Spider Woman. Once again, my current poon drought and outright horniness pushed me onward despite my increasing doubts. My response to the penile question was the typical male exaggeration: Sure, Ive got a big ol dick for ya baby! What would you do with it if I brought it over right now? This immediately got the interest of my buddy, who up until that point was alternating between gesturing and trying to force me to hang up the phone. He immediately began trying to pull the receiver from my hands as she responded,

Lets just say I can deep throat and I swallow... I needed a break to collect myself so I offered the phone to Kevin after introducing him first, Hey, Im here with my buddy Kevin, hes got a big dick too. Can he COME over? Angela seemed game for us both as she said, Sure, Id love for both of you guys to come over right now and treat me like a piece of fuckmeat. Heres what I want you to do for me baby, OK? I want you to drive over to the alley in back of Crenshaw, behind the bank, and park your car there. Then go to the fence that runs up to the corner of that alley and the street, and act like your taking a piss. I want to see your dicks first, so face the fence and toward the corner so I can see them. Theres a streetlight shining right above there, its the only light on that end of the alley and I live right next to that, so Ill be watching from my window

At this point Im starting to think this is not all its cracked up to be. The whole, I need to see the dicks angle was a little worrisome for me for reasons more than the obvious Irish Curse anxiety.

So you want to see our dicks first? I said, because I wanted to be clear on that. Thats right baby, I wanna make sure you have enough meat for me before I let you in, OK? Come over right now, OK? Im really horny, she continued, as my doubts continued to rise. Heres Kevin. I said, passing the phone to him.

Hey girl, you feeling horny? he asked. Yeah, Ive got about nine inches. You like that? Whadya mean am I black? Do I sound Black? Uh, no, no Im not Black. He was, in fact, of African-American persuasion, and Im sure we both felt just as uncomfortable at that point, as the situation imploded. This chick is calling anonymous strangers and inviting them over to have hot animal sex and shes a racist! This world never ceases to amaze me.

OK, girl. Were on our way over now. Yeah, well go the corner and show you our dicks. Okay. Yeah. Bye. This was how we concluded our interaction with Angela the racist payphone nymphomaniac. We decided to drive over to the alley, since we both agreed 100 percent that the person we were speaking to on the phone was indeed a guy, and we had to see this freak in person. I drove to the location, we got out and walked up the alley to the lights, but refrained from exposing our glans.

The rest of the story is obviously anticlimactic, but we did see Angela on the unlighted steps in front of the Apartment building as we drove out of the alley. In my typically comedic fashion, I called out in the darkness, Angela? Angela? Its me, Tom, and the door of the building on the corner opened a crack to expose an individual who was a near dead ringer for the Phillip Seymour Hoffman drag queen character in Flawless. We laughed hysterically as we left the scene with a great story that would normally seem unbelievable if it werent for the fact that we could act as each others witnesses to a night of near transsexual debauchery.

Looking back, I would imagine the scenario we were involved in probably worked successfully at some point for Angela. Once, someone at work shared a similar story after I told her the tale. Her story was about a toothless 40-something-year-old alcoholic woman who lived in an apartment with an actual view of the phone she was calling. That story ended with real sex, though, so it was much better than mine. Oh well. I guess the moral of this story is, if you answer enough ringing payphones and are open minded enough, you could probably get laid.

Celluloid Junkie ( celluloidjunkie@toosquare.com )