What nice comments on my previous entry…So yes, I will talk about Thunder, but I'm too brain-fried from my weekend to write coherently about that right now. Perhaps tomorrow…
 
Meanwhile, I'm listening to my voicemails. I cleared them twice while I was gone, but still, the phone messages stack up fast…
 
YOU HAVE 13 NEW MESSAGES. PRESS 1 TO HEAR MESSAGES.
 
Beep!
"Hi, Matisse, it's Pete, just following up on our email. I'll definitely see you Thursday at 2. Oh, I have a request, if you don't mind? Would you wear that PVC skirt and the boots that lace up? You look so hot in that. I'm looking forward to seeing you again. Bye."
END OF MESSAGE.
 
It's so nice to have good regulars.
 
Beep!
"Hi, my name is John. I'm going to be in Seattle this weekend and wanted to know about an appointment for Saturday night at around 8. My cell number is XXX-XXXX, area code, XXX. Give me a call."
END OF MESSAGE.

He sounds nice enough – but he didn't read my webpage, bad boy. It states "Monday through Friday" quite clearly. The trouble with guys who don't read the webpage is that not only do they not know my schedule, they often don't know a lot of other things – like what I will and won't do, for example. I may call him back and tell him my schedule and see if he wants to do a weekday appointment. Or I may not, depending on how busy I am.
 
Beep!
"Hi. This is Bob. I want to see you. Call me at XXX-XXXX."
END OF MESSAGE.
 
There's a flat, staccato tone to this guy's voice that I don't like. He speaks as if his sentences don't have any relationship to each other, like someone repeating the sounds of a foreign language that they don't really understand. It's not a good sign, and I've learned to always go with my gut response to stuff like this.
 
Beep!
"Hello? Hello? Are you there? Is anyone there? Can you hear me? Hello?"
END OF MESSAGE.
 
Jesus, what decade is this guy living in? Answering machines where you can screen calls are like dinosaurs these days. He sounds like an old guy, though, so if he calls back we'll cut him a little slack. I like older guys. My oldest client ever: seventy-seven. And horny as hell, no blue pills required.
 
Beep!
"Hi. This is Bob. I called earlier. Call me soon. XXX-XXXX."
END OF MESSAGE.
 
Oh, that's not good. I check the time of this message and it's about an hour after the first one. I don't like that.
 
Beep!
Ooooooo Mistress, I wanna suck your –"
MESSAGE DELETED.
 
Beep!
Hello, Mistress, it's Andrew. I saw you once before about two months ago and I'd love to see you again. I don't know if you remember me or not, but I was the guy who brought you a wooden cutting board and you spanked me with it. Can you call me – discreetly – at my work number, XXX-XXXX, after 11am tomorrow? That would be great. Thanks, bye."
END OF MESSAGE. 
 
I do remember him, he was a sweetie, and I loved the originality of the cutting-board-as-paddle. Top of the call-back list for Andrew.
 
Beep!
"Hi. This is Bob again. Please call me at XXX-XXXX."
END OF MESSAGE.
 
Forty minutes since his last message. Bob is definitely creeping me out.
 
Beep!
"Hi, Matisse, my dear, it's James. I just wanted to tell you what a wonderful time I had with you last week. You're a beautiful lady and I really enjoy our time together. Oh, and I know you were a little concerned about that bruise on my cock, but I don't want you to worry, it's gotten much smaller and it's not terribly sore at all. You know I've done worse just playing around by myself. So don't worry, I'm tough, and I wouldn't change a thing about our scene. Take care and I'll see you soon."
END OF MESSAGE. 
 
Oh, how sweet of James to call and reassure me. Cock and ball torture is a favorite of mine, and when I'm playing with someone who likes it as much as I do, occasionally we get so enthusiastic that, well, there are bruises. I always worry about this when it happens. I've never done any long-lasting damage to anyone, and I'd like to keep it that way. But James is an experienced CBT practitioner and, like many boys who enjoy heavy CBT, he's tried out a lot of creative and extreme forms of that art on himself. So I do trust his judgment, and I'm sure he's got the situation well in hand. (Yes, I had to say it.)

Beep!
"Hello. This is Bob. I called before. I really want to see you. Call me back at–"
MESSAGE DELETED.
 
No, Bob, I will not be calling you, because nothing says, "I'm a serious weirdo!" like calling me every half-hour.
 
Beep!
"Hi, Mistress Matisse, my name is Brandy, I was wondering if you were hiring assistants right now? If you are could you please call me back at XXX-XXXX? Thanks a lot, bye."
END OF MESSAGE.
 
Sorry, Brandy - not now, not ever.
 
Beep!
"Hello. My number is XXX-XXXX. Please call me."
END OF MESSAGE.
 
Ah-ha. Bob's trying a different tack – leaving a number without a name. I don't return calls like that anyway - but there's no disguising that Thorazine voice of his.
 
Beep!
"Oh, um, hi, this is John. I called before asking about a Saturday appointment, and then I read on your webpage that you don't do weekend appointments, so I feel kinda dumb. So would you be available on Monday? You can call me at XXX-XXX-XXXX. Sorry about the confusion earlier."
END OF MESSAGE.
 
I'm charmed by this message. I look favorably upon people who cop to mistakes, and what a nicely contrite tone of voice, too. Okay, John, you made it to call-back list. I do like a man who's trainable.