by Inez Kelley
Caz’s eyes flitted across the bedroom to the open door of the master bath. His question was soft. “Charlie?”
“Guest room,” Bastian said, earning a laugh.
“You’re a glutton for punishment. I need your keys. You’re blocking Heidi in.”
“Which one’s Heidi?” Bastian tossed his keys from the dresser.
“Redhead. The blonde’s Amy. And FYI, I’m having company over tonight, so I doubt I’ll be around when you get up later.”
“Which one’s staying?”
Caz raised his eyebrows thoughtfully before giving a shrug. “Don’t know yet. Maybe both.”
“I don’t need to know this,” Bastian groaned, returning to the bed and burying his head under his pillow. “We’ll be out of here by ten. Use latex and be quiet.”
“Uh, yeah, about that…” Caz’s tone turned sheepish. “I came straight from the airport. Got any extra?”
Biting back a lecture, Bastian fished a condom box from the nightstand and threw it to his brother. “Close the door.”
“Sure you don’t want to keep a few in case—”
“Close the door, Boo.”
Chapter Four
“…Time for a break, so sit tight, lovers. Do a Kegel or ten. Doc and I’ll be right back.”
Charlie flicked off the console mike, keyed up the muted station identification music and swiveled to face him. Bastian had a wiseass grin on his face that never boded well. He sported the same look each birthday and Christmas. One of these years she was going to worm her gift out of him early.
“Going to share whatever has tickled your fancy?”
“Later.”
“Later when? Later tonight or later next year?”
Golden brows rose as he ignored her question, his fingers skimming over the laptop keys. Bastian normally kept the Medical Library page pulled up in case he needed a reference point, but tonight’s show hadn’t called for much research. With only twenty minutes left, she couldn’t imagine what he could be looking for until she recognized the station email logo. It was his job to pick the final email reading of the night, so she ignored the computer as the wireless printer surged to life.
“Did you check your station mail cubby?” Charlie asked. He never looked up from the inbox page. “I got the entertainment lineup today for the Summer Kickoff.”
The statement brought his head up with a fast snap. “No. I mean it.”
“I already accepted in both our names.”
He groaned. “Why? You know I don’t want to emcee the damn thing.”
“Because it’s our turn, it’s for charity, and it looks great on a résumé. Besides, anything that will get you in costume is worth it. It’s a few hours. You can tough it out for that long.”
“Fine, whatever. But enough with the crappy-assed costumes.”
“We always wear cute coordinating costumes. They get comments every year.”
“Yeah, and every year you put my ass in a skirt. I want pants this year.”
“When did I put you in a skirt?”
“Pick a year. Last year—”
“I was a harem girl and you were a sheikh.”
“Long skirt and sandals.”
“The year before I was Cleopatra and you were Marc Antony.”
“Short skirt with a sword.”
“Ha. The first year I was Maid Marian and you were an adorable Robin Hood. No skirt there.”
“Charlie, I’m never wearing tights again. Either you pick a costume with pants or so help me, I’m going in scrubs. Here’s a thought, how about we go as late-night sex jockeys? No costumes required.”
“But I thought we could go as Tarzan and Jane. A loincloth is not a skirt.”
Shock value was priceless. He stared at her with undiluted fear as she keyed up their theme music. The blinking red light stole any words he might have wanted to throw at her. Wiggling her eyebrows at him changed the fear into a promise of retribution.
“Welcome back, lovers. Did you miss us? Doc is sitting here with his mouth hanging open so let’s give him a second to recover. When I blow his mind, it takes things a while to come back online. Caller, you’re here with Doc and Honey, what can we help you with?”
“Yeah, I got a question for you, Honey.”
“You got me, baby. What’s your name?”
“Uh, Mike. My new girlfriend and I are just getting together, ya know. But she’s a little shy in the bedroom. I want to make things happen but she won’t tell me what she wants. She just says anything I want. How do I make her talk to me?”
His eyes snagged hers and they smiled over the dual microphones. Bastian nodded and Charlie took point.
“If she won’t talk, you have to listen harder, Mike. If you’re doing anything right, she’ll make some sound, a whimper or a moan. When you hear it, keep doing what you’re doing. Go slow, go easy and let her know there’s no rush. Put yourself on the back burner, make the night about her, her pleasure, her orgasm. Talk to her, Mike, keep asking her if she likes it. Most women can give you a simple yes or no. And no means no. Just remember there are more erogenous zones than her breasts and her vagina. Try her neck, the backs of her knees, her belly button, anyplace. Something will get you a reaction.”
Before she’d leaned back, Bastian had leaned forward, their movements coordinated from familiarity. He’d shunned a headset microphone early in their dual career so she rarely wore hers during the show to put their voices on an even platform. “Even” did not do justice to his voice. It spilled into the air like hot buttered rum.
“Pay attention, Mike. Use your eyes. There will be some physical sign, a skin flush or a change in breathing pattern. Her nipples might peak or the lubrication might increase. Her eyes will tell you a lot unless she keeps them closed. Even then, she may squint or raise her eyebrows, make a face of some sort. Sit and watch, my man. An aroused woman is a thing of beauty. Knowing you did it is a power high.”
Charlie stared at Bastian in awe. Sometimes he amazed her. She forced her mind back to the caller. “Mike, the best thing you can do is talk to her outside the bedroom, over dinner or when driving, anyplace she’s relaxed and doesn’t feel immediate pressure. Just tell her you want to make your sex life the best you can but she has to help you. Talk is foreplay. Use it. Good luck, lover.”
Closing the phone line, Charlie brushed a stray hair from her face and caught her partner’s grin. She flirted with the airwaves still open.
“A thing of beauty, huh? Mighty poetic tonight, aren’t you?”
“I’m with you, Honey. That’s enough to inspire poetry in the hardest of hearts. Besides, it’s true. An aroused woman is a beautiful thing.”
“Now, see, I’m not too sure about that. Orgasms cause some seriously painful-looking faces.”
His deep laugh filled the radio room. “That may be, but it’s just the intensity of release. Like jumping off a cliff. You’re not going to be smiling when you hit the ground but the flight down is fantastic.”
“Hit the ground? Dang, Doc, what kind of women are you hanging out with if you equate an orgasm with pulling a Wile E. Coyote off a cliff?”
“Honey, I’m on sexual sabbatical so I’m pulling from memory here. Cut me a break. Take a call.”
“Chicken. All right then, caller, you’re on the air with Doc and Honey. What can we help you with, sugar?” Static buzzed for a few seconds and both their eyes flew to the control room. From behind glass, Justine shrugged. The line was open. “You there, lover?”
“Yeah, I want to talk to Doc.”
She sounded so scared. Tension crept steadily into the room as Bastian pulled the mike closer to his face. Some callers had serious issues that couldn’t be addressed on the radio, and most inevitably asked for the doctor. Many, like this one, sounded young.
“I’m here, sweetie. What’s your name?”
“Lanie.”
“Lanie, what can I do for you?”
“I think I’m pregnant.”
H
is head bowed. Charlie watched Bastian stifle a sigh. Unfortunately, he’d gotten these calls before.
“How late are you?”
“Two days.”
“Have you taken a test?”
“No.”
“Sweetie, you have to find out. If you’re already late, then any test over the counter will do. Or you can go to a clinic. It’s free, they won’t tell your parents, and you’ll get some good advice there. Don’t wait on this, Lanie. Time is important. Can you talk to your mom?”
“She’ll kill me.”
“She’s not going kill you. She might yell and get mad, but it’s because she loves you. And if you are pregnant, you’re going to need someone in your corner. Don’t freak out yet, it’s early. Just get tested, find out one way or the other. If you are, talk to your mother or even the people at the clinic. They’re going to have a better chance to help you than I can. If you’re not, get some birth control. Hang in there, Lanie. Let us know what happens.”
A quick wave of his hand begged Charlie to disconnect the line. She filled a minute with idle chatter before going to a commercial break.
“I hate those calls,” Bastian spat.
“Basic information, you covered your ass.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t help Lanie. What time is it?”
Diversionary topics always came after these calls. Charlie slid a friendly hand up his thigh, more to soothe than to entice. Bastian took some calls to heart. He couldn’t solve the world’s problems even if he wanted to. He always wanted to.
“Almost one. Another call or two and some bullshit and you’re out of here. What time’s your shift tomorrow?”
“Seven. I’m going to go crash at your place. Boo has company. No more calls, Charlie. Let’s just end with emails, okay?”
“Sure. You have them pulled up?” At his nod, she keyed the mike and slid into Honeypot mode. She fixed him with a twinkling grin, determined to lighten his mood.
“Welcome back, lovers. Doc’s been playing with cyber porn again so I had to take the computer away.” His chuckle carried across the air, the vocal gauge bouncing. “So I tapped into the email account for some of your letters. Just a reminder, you can drop us a line on WTXT’s website under the message board or send us an email at DocandHoney, one word, at WTXT dot com. But don’t add us to your spam list. If we blackball your IP, you’re S.O.L. for Let’s Talk about Sex. So let’s see what the internet has brought us tonight.”
A quarter-inch thick, the stack of papers he handed her was strangely large. Bastian normally only picked out a couple for them to read. Her querying look was met with an eyebrow lift. “Doc, you looking for overtime? This email stack is thicker than some men I could name.”
“And as flat as some women I could name, present company excluded. Pick one.”
“Okay. First one is from Billie725. She—or he, I guess—writes, ‘Dear Doc and Honey, I listen to your show every chance I get. You guys are hysterical and I love your back-and-forth. But I’m curious. Are you two really friends? I mean, do you hang out off the air?’ You want to answer that, Doc or am I flying solo tonight?”
“Hands Solo, Honey. Go for it.” He loved throwing tidbits like that out when she couldn’t respond back. But she had stronger firepower.
“Watch it, Doc, or come WTXT’s Summer Kickoff, you’ll find yourself staring at a fig leaf instead of a loincloth.” His fiery blush was enough to make her smile. The smile carried into her voice. “Yes, Billie, we are friends. In fact, Doc is my best friend, he has been for years. And it’s time for him to pull his share of the work around here. Read the next one, Doc.”
“I just love listening to your voice. Pick one for me.”
Handing him a random paper, she checked the clock, gauging the show’s end. The theme song was cued and her closing prepared but she’d never gone over time before and wouldn’t start now.
“Frazzled writes in, ‘Dear Doc, you flirt with Honey every show and constantly tell her how beautiful she is’—you wrote this one, didn’t you?”
“I’ll never tell. Keep reading.”
“‘—how beautiful she is. Tell me the truth, is she a knockout or is it an act?’ Frazzled, check out the website. Honey just uploaded new pictures and you’ll see in no way am I lying. Honey is not only beautiful, she takes my breath away just by sitting beside me.”
“Doc, how sweet. But if you’re bucking for a raise, I can’t help you. I can help you with a rise in other areas but not in your paycheck.”
“You manage to get enough of a rise just by looking at me, Honey. Read another.”
“SuzieQ4u wants to know, ‘Dear Doc and Honey, when you are off air between callers, what do you do?’”
“Sit and stare at Honey and try to keep the drool off the control panel.”
Charlie laughed and flipped through the emails. “He’s not lying, folks. Mainly, we joke around, occasionally sneaking in a verbal quickie in between calls. Okay, I’m skipping out of turn here but too bad, this one’s too good to pass up. It’s all for you, Doc, so pay attention.
“Beastiegirl writes in saying, ‘Dear Doc, Your voice sends shivers down my spine and one guess where those shivers stop!’” Knowing exactly what the writer meant, Charlie let her lips curve into a teasing grin. “‘So give me a little fuel for my fantasies. Boxers or briefs?’ Now, I know this one but I’m going to make Doc answer. Give Beastiegirl a shiver, Doc, enlighten her as to your clothing preference.”
Lips twitching and cheeks shining, Bastian shook his head. “Hi, Beastiegirl. Mostly plain cotton boxers, hope that helps. What type of underwear do you wear, Honey?”
“Who says I wear any? Last email. Your turn.”
Rather than reach for the stack, Bastian pulled a single sheet of paper from beside his laptop. He didn’t look in her direction but she saw the determination in his eyes.
“We’ve gotten this question a time or two, but I think now’s the time to revisit it. Lady Lumps writes, ‘Dear Doc and Honey, my husband and I listen to every show. You two have such chemistry it’s actually caused a bit of an argument between us. I say you two are married, he swears you’re not. So who is right? We have an hour-long massage riding on the answer.’”
Trepidation slithered up Charlie’s spine as Bastian turned his face to hers. His words were directed to the mike but aimed at her soul.
“Sorry, lady, your husband’s right. We’re not married. But not because I don’t want to be. I love Honey. I asked her to marry me and she told me no. So I’m asking the listeners for help. How can an uptight sawbones convince a Honeypot to marry him? Tell me some way to win her heart, to show her sex might make the world go ’round but love is what keeps it centered. She’s the center of my world. Help me make her Mrs. Doc.”
In all the years she’d known him, he’d never played so dirty. Her temples throbbed in a sudden headache, and her vision tapered until he existed only in the narrowest slits of her eyes. “Tell me you didn’t just do that.”
“I did it and I meant it. I want to marry you. And I need all the help I can get.”
Dead air, the bane of disc jockeys everywhere, reigned for several deafening seconds as her brain fried. The phone lines lit, blinking small squares in hazy yellow. In the control room, Justine was frantic, answering calls and tapping computer keys. Bastian didn’t drop his gaze, nor did she. She snapped her body back to the control console.
“Nice little bombshell you dropped, Doc. But you left out half the story. You see, listeners, Doc’s suffering from a severe case of mistaken identity. He thinks he’s a broken ATM machine. He won’t put out.”
A tawny head crashed into his hands, just visible from the corner of her gaze. It didn’t slow her impassioned speech.
“Hard to imagine, but Dr. Hot is running cold in the bedroom. So you tell me, lovers, what’s the best way to get the good doctor to drop his pants and cough it up? Because this Honeypot doesn’t buy a car she hasn’t test-driven.”
“Touché.” Un
bridled laughter flavored his tone as his face creased in humor. “So it’s an on-air battle. Who will say yes first?”
“You have a male appendage, Doc. All I have to do is get naked. You’ll be screaming yes before the next show.”
“Don’t count on it, Honey. I made it through Neuroanatomy and Organic Chemistry. I can handle anything you want to dish out.”
A flicker of enjoyment skittered through her stomach, and Charlie fought a smile. Fighting with Bastian was almost as much fun as kissing him. But he wasn’t getting off easy.
“Say hello to your palm then because I’m going be on your butt like those Fruit of the Loom. Okay, then. Everyone has their assignments. Send your emails to DocandHoney, all one word, at WTXT dot com. Pick a side and make sure you put one of our names in the subject line. Send the spicy ideas to me, the sweet ones to Doc. Just remember, you catch more flies with honey, and I’m after one fly in particular.”
“News update, Honey. I’m going to catch you in my web and put a ring on your finger.”
The switch keying up the theme song nearly broke in her hand as she whirled to face him. All she saw was his empty chair and the swinging door to the broadcast room. It took her a few seconds to cue up the next commercial segment but she was out the door before he made it down the hall.
“What in the hell was that? What gives you the right to broadcast your personal mission on the air without talking to me? That shit had no business in the show. Don’t walk away from me, Bastian! Get back here.”
The long line of his spine stopped just before the exit door. Broad shoulders straight, he faced her, jagged fortitude carved in his face. Three long strides brought him back to her. Her lips flew open to hurl more insults but were silenced by his kiss. Deep, passionate and full of resolve, he snatched the breath from her lungs. The power took her by surprise. Since last night, he’d kept their flirtation light and sweet.
This was not sweet. This was spicy. This was Doctor Hot.
Twenty-four hours of being free to kiss him had spoiled her hands and they crept along his arms to circle his neck without getting clearance from her brain. Her tongue danced with his, a tango of wet heat and unspoken promise. Tacks and papers slid from the bulletin board as her back met the cork.
