by Inez Kelley
He swallowed quickly and glanced away. “Uh, Charlie, are you wearing underwear?”
“I don’t know, am I?”
He focused on the partition and sucked in a loud breath. Justine silently went about her work, ignoring them in her normal way. He didn’t drop his eyes from the older woman.
“Okay, that’s not fair. Now I’m dying of curiosity. You can’t expect me to sit here thinking about this for the rest of the show.”
“So find out.”
Low and sultry, her tease dared him and she parted her legs a fraction more. His hand slipped under her calf and slid upward. Even with his long arms, he was too far away to reach past her midthigh unless he leaned over. She waited and watched. Bastian pulled his hand away, wheeled his chair a foot closer and cupped her calf once more. His eyes never left the control room window as his fingers traveled up the outside of her thigh. At the curve of her hip, his chest began to rise and fall rapidly. His touch slipped under the fabric and skimmed up nearly to the band of her skirt.
“Tell me they’re just really high-cut.”
“Could be. Don’t you want to find out for sure?”
“Justine—”
“Isn’t paying attention and can’t see below the console.”
“She can hear us.”
“She has her headset off.” Placing her hand on top of his through her skirt, Charlie slid it over the front of her thigh. He continued the slow move, curving between her legs, never lowering his gaze from the manager. His caress sent her stomach into quivers. Every ounce of her focus was centered on his journey. The very tips of his fingers grazed bare flesh. He drew a loud gasp and held it. It eked out with a soft groan.
“You’re killing me.”
“Killing you is not my intention.” Wantonly, she let her legs part, the skirt hiding their connection but both of them very aware. His hand moved higher, liquid silk smoothing his butterfly-light path. His eyes closed as he traced the outer dampness of her sex.
The buzzing timer jerked his hand away. Charlie pulled her feet from his lap, silenced the buzzer and keyed up the theme music. Justine slid her headset back over her ears. Bastian tugged at his crotch. The look he gave her was pure agonized awe.
“Welcome back, lovers. Did you miss us? I missed you. Poor Doc was falling asleep during the break and I had to do something to wake him up. You okay, now, Doc? Was that little bit of sugar enough to get you up and moving?”
Bastian had to lick his lips before speaking. “Thanks, I’m wide awake now, Honey. Wide. Awake. And up.” The hurried sip of coffee seemed hard for him to swallow. Silently, he shook his finger at her like a naughty child though his eyes were sparkling.
“Glad to hear it. There’s more chocolate in my bag if you need another lift, okay? Let’s go straight to the phone lines.”
While a woman told a rambling prelude, Bastian leaned in and pressed his lips to Charlie’s ear. “That’s one point.” He brushed her cheek with a soft kiss before pulling back, a glazed film to his look.
“…so is it possible?”
Charlie had to scramble to recall the question. Bastian’s hot breath had stuttered her brain and blanked her mind. “Uh, just to clarify, you’re asking if it’s possible to have an orgasm just from kissing? No intimate touches at all, just lips on lips?”
“Yeah, because I don’t believe her but she swears it’s true.”
“She’s right. It’s unusual but not unheard of. The largest sex organ is the brain. If you turn that on, things just kind of kick in naturally. So, yes, it is possible but between you and me, there’s a whole lot missing in that scenario. Kind of like Thanksgiving with a turkey but no pie, potatoes or cranberries, you know?”
“I hear you.” The caller laughed and Charlie disconnected the line before opening another.
“Hello, caller, you’re live on Let’s Talk about Sex with Doc and Honey. What can we do for you tonight, lover?”
“Can you answer something for me?” The rich masculine voice was softened in shyness, and Charlie cocked her head in curiosity.
“We can try. What’s your name?”
“Simon. I have never done oral sex. Not opposed to the idea, it just hasn’t happened. I’m not sure how. I mean, I’ve heard guys say write the alphabet with your tongue, others say it doesn’t work. Does it?”
Bastian chuckled and leaned forward. “Simon, if you’re concentrating on the alphabet, you’re thinking too hard. Forget what you hear in the locker rooms. Just listen to your partner, talk to her if you’re really unsure, find out what she prefers. There is no one technique. It’s what feels good to both of you.”
“Doc speaketh wisely, Simon, so listen closely. Think about it. What’s interesting about the letter K? Not a thing. Although the letters O and T are pretty nice, B, Z and H are a waste of energy.”
“You’ve thought about this a bit, haven’t you, Honey?” Bastian laughed.
“Sure have, Doc. I learned my ABC’s in kindergarten; I don’t need a refresher course in the bedroom.”
“Okay, I got that,” Simon broke in. “But like I said, I’ve never done that, yet. I have a lady friend that…I want to do this for her but it’s a little…Oh, never mind. Why can’t there be an instruction manual for stuff like this?”
“Simon, relax.” Soothing and gentle, Bastian’s bedside manner flowed over the airwaves like melted chocolate. “A lot of it will come naturally if you care about your partner, a lot more when you listen to what she wants, what she likes. Don’t get stressed over it. It’s not a competition or a test. It’s pleasing your partner and, in turn, feeling good about that.”
“Hey, Simon.” Charlie straightened her spine and laid her hands flat on the console. “Go buy a can of halved peaches in heavy syrup. Trust me on this, okay? Similar size and shape, texture’s not too far off and the syrup is self-explanatory. Think of it as a visual training manual.”
“Really?”
“Really. And the best thing you can do is look for the little nub that holds the pit inside the fruit. That is the key to a successful…session. Remember, nubbin, good, alphabet, bad. Good luck, lover.”
“Peaches?” Bastian’s tone was astonished as the phone line closed. Mouth open, he stared at her. “Where’d you get that idea?”
“Now, Doc, if I told you all my little hidden talents, it’d ruin a few surprises in your possible future. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
“I don’t know. At this minute, I have to say my brain is no longer functioning properly. You’ve totally floored me with that exercise. Never again will I look at canned fruit the same way. And I don’t know about any of the listeners, but I have a sudden intense craving for honeyed peaches.”
She swayed one leg back and forth. Like a magnet, his eyes fell to the skirt bunched around her hips, barely hiding what he knew didn’t lurk beneath. “Now, I can arrange for that treat any time you like, Doc. Just say the word.”
“The word is stop. Two points to Honey for driving me crazy,” he growled, yanking his head up and grabbing for a silvered kiss. “Take a call. Fast.”
Her laugh rang loud as she clicked the phone line. Through the male caller’s greeting, Bastian ran an unsteady hand down his face, blinking several times. He drank deeply for long seconds before lowering the mug.
“…vasectomy mean you have less feeling or, you know, are less…aggressive in bed?”
“No.” Regaining his voice, he sat straighter in the chair. Defensiveness flashed in his eyes and a forced calm cooled his tone. “All a vasectomy does is block the live sperm from mixing with the seminal fluid before ejaculation. It does not affect testosterone levels, masculinity or anything of that nature. Aggressiveness, sexual competency or skill in bed…Being a man doesn’t come from a sperm count.”
Catching Justine’s eye, he held up his empty mug with a pleading look and she nodded. A more normal flow to his words poured out.
“Most times, if there are issues, they’re more emotional than physi
cal. A large number of men find sex better, more pleasurable, after a vasectomy because the worry of birth control is removed. If you or your partner are having any sensation problems, you need to talk to your doctor. There’s always the extremely small chance there was some nerve damage, but it’s not likely.”
Silent as a deaf church mouse, Justine slipped into the room to take his wide-bottomed cup for a refill. The door made no sound as she closed it behind her.
“Good to know, Doc. Time for a quickie in the broom closet, so sit tight, lovers. Doc and I will be right back with emails from you. Then we’re going to lube up and slide on into the tally sheets in the Race for Wed or Bed. Stick around. We’ll slide back in three.”
As Charlie fingered the controls, Bastian reached for her. His tongue burst into her mouth on her surprised gasp. Cupping her face, he plundered and captured. Hunger laced his kiss. Her hands flew to his before sliding onto his arm. His biceps hinted at how he struggled with his desire, filling her with intoxicating feminine power.
There wasn’t a damn thing lacking in his sexual aggressiveness.
“The no-underwear thing was bad enough, but peaches? Do you know what sitting beside you, talking about oral sex, knowing you’re naked under that skirt, is doing to me?”
“Yes,” she whispered with a smile. “I believe it’s called seduction.”
“It’s called twisting me inside out. Stop it. My nuts hurt and I’m too tired to fight,” he grumbled against her mouth. He nibbled and nipped, sharing his flavors of chocolate and coffee. Each taste was exquisite, surging lust through her until it settled deep between her thighs with a dull wet ache. Buried in his chest, a sound she now recognized as want rumbled, increasing the sweet pulse.
The click of the door handle forced his lips from hers. Bastian spun to the sleeping laptop as the door opened wide.
“Here you go, Doc. This is only regular strength or you’ll never sleep tonight.”
“Thanks, Justine. Appreciate it.” She set the mug on the console edge and left the room as the printer fired up. Charlie faded the commercial block down and the theme music up and used her toe to nudge his backside. Over his shoulder, they shared a secret smile of stolen kisses.
“Welcome back, lovers. Our own Dr. Hot is over in the corner yanking things out of the printer so let’s see what lover-ly letters you sent to us via the World Wide Web. Having trouble yanking there, Doc?”
“Not at all, Honey. It’s just too hot to handle at the moment. Want to blow on it and see if it cools down any?”
Charlie let a purr trill out. “Oh, I love it when you talk about warm email, Doc. It makes me all tingly.”
“Tingly, huh? Then hold out your hand and feel the heat in this.” Bastian handed her the four sheets of printer-warm paper and blew her a kiss.
“Oh, Doc. You can be naughty. Is this all for me?”
“You can have whichever emails you like. Top or bottom of the stack?”
“Now, you know me, I’ll always take the top position.”
“I’ll remember that.” His promise glided across the air, registering higher on her libido than on the vocal gauge. The smoldering blaze in his eyes burned her, stoking a fire he wasn’t willing to douse.
Taking the top two sheets, she handed him back the bottom two and turned to the face the microphone. He slid his chair beside her as she read, his hand falling to the small of her back. A jolt of electricity spiked from his touch and she blanked for a second, scrambling to remember what she was doing.
“Ready?”
“In a minute.” Bastian angled her microphone so they could share. “Just a message to Devin if you’re listening. I got your last text and that’d be great. I spoke with…the big guy and everything is all cleared. I really appreciate what you’re doing and I’ll give you a call in the morning to wrap things up. With your help, I’m sure she’s going to be blown away.”
He wouldn’t look at her. She narrowed her eyes as he sent coded messages over her airspace. She hated surprises.
“You and Devin blowing somebody, Doc?”
“You wish.”
“Well if it isn’t a BJ, then is it blowing someone away as in cement shoes in the river?”
“You’ll see.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Wait, tomorrow? Are you going to knock me off and dump me in the river?”
“Of course not. I want to marry you, not murder you. Now read your emails like a good girl.”
“If you’d give it up, you’d see how good a girl I can be.”
“Read, Honey.” The smug look he sent her shot frustration through her blood. But letting him know that would be stroking his ego and she wouldn’t do that, even though not knowing was killing her. It would serve him right if she slipped naked into his bed in the morning with peach-flavored lube.
Which might not be a bad idea. Reminder to self, call Deborah at the Pleasure Palace before signing off.
“Fine, be that way.” She stuck her tongue out. “Email number one comes from Candygirl. Candygirl writes, ‘Dear Doc and Honey, do you ever get embarrassed by some of the questions people ask you?’ Personally, it takes a lot to embarrass me so I’d have to say no, I really don’t get embarrassed. What about you, Doc?”
“There have been a few that have surprised me, but I don’t think I’d call it embarrassed. Of course, I hang out with you so I’m pretty much immune to embarrassment by now.”
“Don’t tempt me, Doc, or we’ll have another contest on our hands, but there you have it, Candygirl. We’re very hard to embarrass so keep calling us.”
Against her back, his thumb stroked in slow lazy arches. His leaning into her mike pressed the hand firmer to her skin, and her mouth went dry. His voice made it water.
“Tinkle Flower writes, ‘Dear Doc and Honey, What has been the strangest call you’ve ever received?’ Oh boy, the strangest call? I don’t know.”
“The duct tape guy,” Charlie said.
Remembrance dawned on his face and he grimaced. “Oh yeah, I’ve tried to block that call from my memory. Hands down, that was the strangest call ever. And no, I’m not repeating the story. It gave me nightmares for a month.”
“Poor Doc. Not much into lots of silver sticky stuff in delicate places?”
“No.”
“Me either,” she giggled. “Okay, Dreamchaser491 sends, ‘Dear Doc and Hiney’…she called me Hiney, look. ‘Dear Doc and Hiney.’”
“No comment.” He chuckled.
“Cute, Doc. Wait until some replaces the o in your name with an i and we’ll see what comments I make.”
“Read the letter, Hiney.”
“‘Dear Doc and Hiney, I’ve heard you talk about the Summer Kickoff Charity Show. Autism is a special interest of mine. My son was diagnosed three years ago. Where can I buy tickets?’ Well, Dreamchaser, you are now forgiven for calling me Hiney.”
Charlie let the familiar commercial fall from her lips with barely a thought. “You can click on the Summer Kickoff icon on WTXT’s website or call in here anytime during normal business hours. Tickets are also for sale at over fifty businesses in the tristate area. There’s a complete list on our website. Hurry, time is running out. And we’d love to meet you, too! Doc and I are emceeing this year so you won’t be able to miss us, will she, Doc?”
Caught mid-jaw-popping yawn, he took a second to answer her. “Nope, although I have no idea what I’ll look like since Hiney, I mean Honey, won’t tell me what costumes she picked out.”
“Live in fear, Doc.”
His hand fell from her spine. The tease on her lips faded in silence as she turned to him. Bastian sat stone-faced, brows locked and jaw stern. The wheels of his chair slid noiselessly across the small console to his own microphone where he laid the paper flat and glared at it.
He drew a slow breath. “Last email. Normally I just pick a random couple letters to read on the air. It’s about the only job I claim exclusively on this show, the rest is all
Honey. We do get some nasty notes occasionally.” Steel framed his words. Each seemingly chosen with surgical precision, they sliced out with clarity. “I usually ignore those. If I’d read this before printing it off, I wouldn’t be reading it on the air now. However, I have it in my hands and I want to address it.”
His lips curled in disgust, viewing the paper as if it were contaminated. “Spacecowboy writes, ‘Dear Doc, I applaud your stance on the no relations with Honeypot until marriage. But I am worried. Her show is informative to many married couples and I understand the privacy issues that lead people to seek answers from a woman…of such low moral standards. Thankfully, you are there to lend medical credence to her claims of expertise. I plead with you to think before you enter into a union with a…tramp like her. There are many women of higher values than your radio partner available. She’s not worth your devotion.’”
In the control room, Justine sat with her mouth gaping wide.
Bastian pushed the offensive letter away. “Spacecowboy, first, this show is for any consenting adult who wants or needs information, period, regardless of marital status or orientation. Secondly, you have no idea who the woman sitting beside me is or what she’s like. She’s intelligent and caring and not ashamed of her very normal and healthy sexuality in the face of closed-minded people like you. She doesn’t cheat or lie or hurt innocent people out of a twisted sense of superiority. I will consider myself lucky if she does decide to marry me. Lastly, if you have issues with the subject matter of this show or of the moral character of its hosts, I suggest you turn the radio dial. The gospel station is three clicks to the left.”
Rage contorted his features as he pushed away from the console. Charlie longed to stroke the lines from his brow and ease his temper, but she faced her mike and looked at Justine in calm resolution. The need for an unscheduled break was easily communicated and the manager whirled to hit the local pre-recorded news-and-weather segment.
“Let’s take a short break for station identification and the weather update, lovers, while I turn a hose on Doc. He’s a bit agitated and needs some cooling off. Back in two.”
“He’s a crackpot, Doc, shake it off,” chimed Justine’s authoritative voice the second the airwaves closed.
