Dirty Talk

by Lauren Landish

  “Good advice. Thanks for the female point of view. Also, Eric . . . man-to-man here, this might not be about her. Are you making it attractive for her to want to put her face in your crotch? I mean, what’s your lifestyle like?”

  “Uhm, I’m pretty busy. I work long hours but do my best to stay healthy. I take vitamins, stuff like that.”

  “All good, but before you want to get down with your lady, make sure you’re showered and fresh, and stay hydrated,” I reply. “And lay off alcohol, caffeine, and if you do smoke . . . well, this is another reason to quit. Eat right too. All of these things have been shown to affect the taste of your cum. Keep it clean, keep it healthy, and hopefully tasty.”

  We continue, and I give Eric a few pointers. Once we’re done, it’s time for a music break, so I turn it over to Susannah, who spins Madonna’s ‘Like a Prayer.’

  “Little old school, isn’t it?” I ask once the mics are off. She gives me a look, and there’s something different about the way she’s looking at me. Back to that upset look, I don’t know.

  “Best song about blowjobs ever made,” Susannah says before singing along with some of the lyrics. I raise my eyebrow. She’s got a point, but I’ve got other things on my mind.

  Leaving the booth, I pull out my phone, texting Kat. You listening?

  Of course. And no, I’m not Kitty, just in case you were wondering. I know just how to make you come in my mouth. And don’t worry, it’s delicious.

  I moan, thinking of the sight of her and text back. I wish I could see you naked and with my dick in your mouth right now.

  Well, we’ll see if I can make that happen later.

  I hear the song wrapping up, so I hop back in the booth while Susannah grumbles. “We’ve got work to do.”

  “Chill Suz, we’ve got this,” I reply. Madonna finishes up her ode to the sacrilegious blowjob, and we go to an email about a woman who gets off most when she’s got her head tilted back off the edge of the bed. The idea’s hot, though I’ve never tried it. I toss it to Susannah. “I dunno, Suz, sounds like a good way to get a head rush for the sucker, not the suck-ee.”

  She laughs a little. “Maybe some people like a little head rush? For real, don’t hang upside down too long, this is a finishing move that will get you past your gag reflex like we talked about earlier with Eric. But don’t go falling off the bed and blaming your concussion on us.”

  We bounce back and forth, taking calls and doing music breaks for the next hour. I try to stay focused on my job, but about halfway through, I get another buzz on my cellphone. Dad.

  How is the show going tonight, Derrick?

  That’s Dad, never uses a single text contraction or emoji or anything. Not bad. Hey, Jacob will be at home to play in a few weeks and got us box tickets. Can you go?

  Of course I can go. It’s football so I’ll be watching either way, there or at the house.

  Growing up, that was what he and I bonded over first. Not that he didn’t let me explore other things, but where some fathers would tell their son about the baseball greats, or take their sons camping, with us, it was football. Oh, we’d still go fishing or hiking, but his ‘old man stories’ weren’t about fish that got away, but about watching Dwight Clark make ‘The Catch,’ or Doug Flutie’s miracle throw while at Boston College. We bonded over the somehow fated Super Bowl win of the Patriots after 9/11, and now that my former college roommate is a pro and relatively local . . . well, Dad’s got a reason to closely follow the team.

  I know he felt like it was the end of an era when I quit playing, but ultimately, I think he’s glad I did reporting. Especially with all the medical data these days about players getting their head smacked on the field. Now, I think he’s still trying to understand just what this whole Love Whisperer thing is about. Personally, I’m glad he’s probably not listening in tonight. Better for him to think I talk about love and relationships than blowjobs and swallowing.

  OK, I text him. I’ll send you details tomorrow, Jacob should have them to me by then.

  “Yo, Derrick!” Susannah growls, and I look up guiltily. “We’ve got a show to do!”

  “My bad,” I reply, setting my phone down on the table. The light comes on saying we’re live. “We’re back, and I hope you’ve been drinking plenty of water, because it’s getting warm in here. What do we have next, Susannah?”

  “A little offshoot from the norm,” she says, grinning wickedly. “We’ve got Jamie, who has one of my personal fantasies happening in real life.”

  “Go ahead Jamie, I’m listening.”

  “Hi Derrick,” a woman says. “I’ve just started a new relationship with a guy from France, and he’s had a lot more experience than me. Last Friday night, I came home and he . . . well, he was on his knees with another man. They invited me to join in, and while the sex was mind-blowing, I’m a little worried in that my boyfriend seems to be more into sucking cock himself than into me. He’s asked if he could invite his friend over again this weekend, and I’m not sure what to say.”

  Well now, that’s awkward. I get through the call with the same advice I normally give, communicate and be honest with each other, because what the fuck else can I really say to that? But by the time we’re done, it’s time for another commercial break. As soon as the clear light goes on, I reach for my phone, tapping out a message to Kat.

  1 hr left.

  U can do it!

  I smirk, naughty thoughts running through my head. Got anything to motivate me?

  I seriously don’t expect her to reply, and at first I think maybe she’s busy. With about thirty seconds left in the commercial break, my phone buzzes again and I pick it up to see it’s a pic.

  “Oh Jesus,” I whisper as I see Kat, naked from the waist up, her hair framing her face as she shows me a mouthful of what’s obviously milk or something, but the image gets through, especially as she’s let a little dribble from the side of her mouth.

  Motivated enough?

  I gulp, my cock surging in my pants until I’m nearly desperate to have some relief. With shaking thumbs, I text back. Don’t plan on sleeping alone. And no panties 4 our date.

  She sends back an evil smiley emoji, and I’ve got a very horny and very worried feeling that I’ve unleashed a long repressed . . . perfection.

  So what is a second date to you?

  Kat’s quick with her reply. It’s late, so pick me up. We can have drinks at a bar around the corner.

  I’m aware enough to see Susannah giving me the signal, and I go back to the show, faking my way through another email. As soon as I can, I’m back on my phone with Kat.

  Still listening?

  Always. Getting some new ideas too. If you’re good . . . maybe I’ll show you. Not second date tho. Gotta wait a little longer.

  My balls are aching, but her message is clear. No sex tonight. Fuck. Okay, I guess I’ll survive. I try to go back to the show, but I’m distracted by thoughts of Kat and I know I’m fumbling my way through some of the calls. Hopefully no one’s noticing.

  During the next song break, Fifty’s Candy Shop, I duck out to not only take a piss, but to get my head right.

  Honestly Suz does have a reason to be upset with me. I realize I’ve phoned it in tonight, on exactly the type of show I shouldn’t be. God, just the idea of three hours of talk about blowjobs has me rolling my eyes while at the same time my cock pulses in my pants, thinking of Kat and her pic.

  But that’s the problem, I should be focusing, I should be able to for three hours. I shouldn’t be focusing on Kat but instead on each of my callers. If I get bored, I crack jokes with Susannah about the calls or emails. I deliver on the mic, not on text.

  “Tomorrow,” I promise myself as I head back down the hallway. I open the door to see Susannah not in her mini-booth but in mine. Surprised, I stop to see her set my phone down on my desk. “Somethin’ wrong?”

  “Sorry,” she says, seemingly all smiles. “Your phone was buzzing around again. I turned it off for now if you don�
�t mind. We really need to focus and finish tonight out right.”

  “I agree,” I reply a little sheepishly. “I’m sorry about tonight’s show. I know it’s been a clusterfuck sometimes, and you’ve saved my ass. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

  “I get it, I really do,” Susannah says. “Derrick, we’ve all got shows that are tough, and lives outside this place. But we’ve got the potential to do really great things here, bigger and better than ever, but that will never happen if you’re fucking around, barely dialing it in for the shows. I’m happy to do the prep, research, and planning. All you’ve got to do is show up and speak, but tonight, you’ve barely done that. I need you to be a fucking pro like usual, okay?”

  The venom in her last sentence irks me and I’m about to shoot back about her own cattiness, but Fifty’s ending and we’ve got to get back on the air.

  Somehow, we get through the rest of the show and ironically things go well enough that as the outro music plays, Susannah’s in a lot better mood. “Hey, D?”

  I’m in a hurry to see Kat, but still I look over, leaning back in my chair. “Yeah?”

  “Sorry about the bitch act before. I’m just worried about you, that’s all. Is everything okay? You keep texting and calling and that’s not you. This isn’t the first time that’s happened lately either. You seem distracted. Anything I can do to help?”

  I shake my head, getting out of my chair. “No, I’ll get it together. I’m sorry too. Do me a favor though, let’s just keep this between us, but I met someone and it’s a little all-consuming. I got this, promise.”

  “Fresh relationships are like that,” Susannah agrees. “Lucky girl. Is that all?”

  “No, I was talking to my dad but he’s fine. Just been awhile since I really spent time with him, so I gave him some more text time than I should have. All good, sorry if I wasn’t pulling my weight. I’ll do better.”

  “Okay,” Susannah says, giving me her trademark smile. “Keep it up though, and I’ll make sure that we do a whole slew of topics that you hate. Should I go crazy romantic until you vomit pink roses, or some seriously kinky fetish that makes your ass pucker? I got it . . . baby talk. Does Derrick-werrick need a little powder-poofy?” She laughs maniacally, and I can’t help but grin at her. This is why we work together.

  “Okay, okay . . . I promise to get it together as long as you never, ever call me that again! You mind wrapping up the studio? I kinda have a date.” I smile, knowing it’s a big ask after the night we’ve had, but hopeful she’ll cut me some slack because I need to get to Kat.

  “Go party, Don Juan de Radio,” Suz says. “But I demand perfection tomorrow. We’re poised for great things!”

  I’m already walking toward the door, thankful for the reprieve, but answer her. “We are doing great things, Suz. We’re actually helping people here.”

  She says it softly, but I hear it anyway. “But we could help more if we had a bigger platform. Syndication, Derrick. We’re so close.”

  “It’ll happen or it won’t, Suz. I’m happy either way. Don’t worry about chickens that aren’t even eggs yet. Anyway, gotta run. Thanks! You’re the best. Tomorrow . . . I promise. I’m back on track and ready to rock.” And before the door even closes behind me, all thoughts of work whoosh out of my head to be replaced with Kat and how she’s waiting for me.

  Chapter 14

  Kat

  “Well, well, this isn’t too bad,” Derrick says as he closes the door to the bar behind me, cutting off the icy wind. The holiday season isn’t that far off, and honestly . . . I’m making a few early Christmas wishes even if I know they won’t come true.

  “It’s no dive, but it’s not so fancy that nobody can afford a mineral water,” I admit. “As long as you don’t mind not having a coat check girl.”

  “Never had a need for that,” Derrick growls, looking me over. “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

  Heat creeps up my neck as he consumes me with his gaze, and I know that I made the right choice in clothes. Sure, my calves are cold, but this hip hugging skirt and tight blouse look sexy as hell. Or at least it seems to tick all the boxes that Derrick likes.

  “Should we sit?” I ask, and Derrick nods, his hand warm on my lower back as he leads me over to a corner table. The lights are low, it’s that time of night where people are here to either drink their sorrows away quietly or find someone.

  “You know,” Derrick says as he takes my jacket to hang it over one of the spare chairs, “you didn’t have to.”

  “Didn’t have to what?” I ask, waiting while the waitress comes over. I order a glass of white wine, while Derrick orders a beer on tap, and we decide on some tapas to give us something to nibble on besides each other.

  “You didn’t have to get dressed up,” Derrick says. “You don’t need to show off for me. I feel like you’ve never been more comfortable than when we hung out over breakfast and you were wearing yoga pants and an old white t-shirt.”

  “I’m trying to be more comfortable,” I admit. “But no way I’m going out with you wearing that.”

  Derrick smiles and nods. “Just so you know. You’re sexy, beautiful, and you’ve got brains. What’s there not to like?”

  “Good question,” I reply. “What about you? You gotta have a few bad tendencies.”

  “Sure,” Derrick says, pausing when our drinks are brought and we toast each other. “For one, I’m terrible at laundry. In fact, I’ve got a single method, I pick up everything on the floor and chuck it all in the washer at once. Main reason I have all dark clothes . . . black, grey, charcoal, navy.”

  “You what?” I ask, sipping my wine. It’s good, and warm as it flows down my throat.

  “Let’s just say . . . pink football practice pants,” Derrick says with a chuckle. “Take one pair of football pants, two brand new red cotton t-shirts, throw in hot water with cheap detergent and magic happens. So yeah, all darks and that doesn’t happen.”

  I laugh, imagining Derrick wearing pink football pants. “Okay, that’ll teach you. Thankfully for me, wearing pink pants isn’t a problem.”

  “Nope, never had a problem with you and anything pink,” Derrick purrs, heat blooming between my legs. “So . . . how was your day? Miss me?”

  I giggle, thinking of all that we’ve done so far today. “How could I have? You were texting me all day.”

  “When I get motivation like you sent me, I have to.”

  “I admit, that was pretty dirty. I hope you didn’t get in trouble.”

  “Not too much. Susannah did almost kill me today between texting you and my dad, but that’s not your fault.”

  “Is he okay?” I ask, worried, and Derrick waves me off.

  “Yeah, he was just checking in. I think he didn’t realize the time at first. He knows I work in the studio, even if he doesn’t listen in often . . . thankfully.”

  “Oh, I’m sure,” I tease. “I mean, what father would want to listen to their son talk all about how to please a man with your mouth. Speaking of which . . . you never answered some questions tonight about what you like best.”

  Derrick leans in, smiling. “I think you know the answer to that one, you know exactly what I like. And for a woman who said that she wasn’t going to do it anyway, you’re waving a red flag at a bull that’s about to charge you.”

  “Don’t let me taunt you at work, I know how serious you take helping your listeners. After all, look where we are,” I joke back, my pussy tingling underneath my skirt. “You’ve helped me a lot so far.”

  Derrick nods, reaching across the table to place his warm fingers on top of my hand, sparks radiating from the contact up my arm. “I take it very seriously. What can I do to keep helping you, Kitty Kat?”

  There’s a thousand things Derrick could do, but as we’ve moved into something more fragile here with actually dating, I know the most important thing he can do. “Maybe just show me a good time, that not all guys are after one thing?”

  “And what one thing is that?�
��

  “You know . . .,” I whisper back, heat creeping up my neck again. “Fucking.”

  Derrick leans in closer, his voice low and seductive. “But what if I do want to fuck you? Right now, as much as I know I should be, I don’t want to be a gentleman. I want to bend you over this table and slip your skirt over your ass. I could make you come right here.”

  I’d let you and come like a freight train, I think, but I have to keep control somehow, so I flirt back instead. “Rather public don’t you think?”

  Derrick glances around, then comes back to me, his eyes burning. “Would you rather disappear to the back? We could do that if you want? Kat, I respect you and if you say no I’ll accept that. But . . . I think you want to say yes.”

  My breath catches in my chest, he’s got me. Sure, I don’t want to be easy to get, but the way he makes me feel, I want him inside me every fucking moment we’re together.

  Derrick leans in, his thumb drawing circles on my hand, making my nipples tighten in my bra and my pussy clench. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting it, I want you just as much. We could sneak back there and find a dark corner, maybe you sink down to your knees and suck my cock right there. I’d stand in front of you so no one could see. No one would be the wiser but us. Only we would know how much you drive me crazy.”

  “I drive you crazy?” I murmur, feeling a little bit of control return. He’s right, we both want it . . . we just have to figure out where. “Little ol’ me?”

  Derrick leans in closer, and our lips are this close to touching when there’s a harsh harrumph next to us, and a sneering laugh. I’m horrified to see Kevin standing there, smirking like he’s busting me doing something wrong.

  He looks a little extra swollen, obviously using his free time in the gym the last few weeks. And like super tan . . . orange fake-bake tan. Eww. I sit back, my elbow bumping my wine glass, but I catch it before it crashes to the floor. I definitely don’t need any more attention in this moment. “Kevin? What the fuck?”