“Hey, I’m a long-time listener and first-time caller. My girlfriend and I have been going out for about two years and I have a little bit of a problem. She...well, I don’t know how to say this. She wants a breast reduction. She is pretty well-endowed in that area, and she says it hurts her back and clothes don’t fit her right, and she doesn’t like the attention they draw. But I love them. I love all of her, of course. That goes without saying. But I love her tits, and I really don’t want her to get the surgery. I mean, I want her to be happy, but I’m afraid I’m going to be less attracted to her if she goes through with it. Do you have any thoughts on this? Thanks, man.”

I tap my bottom lip and consider my answer before adjusting the mic, bringing it down so it’s just in front of my lips. The questions we receive are pre-screened by the interns, and I get a quick run-down of what’s going to be thrown at me, but this question has been bothering me since I found out about it.

“I don’t know if you’re going to like my answer,” I say, leaning back in my chair and moving the mic with me. I glance over at Kayla, my production manager, sitting there in front of her laptop and sipping an iced latte with whipped cream on top. She looks over the edge of her computer and shrugs. She isn’t going to give me any help, but I don’t need it.

“Look. You can’t help who you’re attracted to, right? But think about it from her perspective. Imagine if your dick was too big to fit in your pants. No, really imagine in. Imagine that you needed a sling just to carry the thing around. Now, imagine that your girlfriend really loved big dick. Not just big dick in general, but your big dick. You get what I’m saying?”

I pick up my pen and start flipping it around in my fingers absent-mindedly, leaning forward in my seat and resting my forearms on the desk. Adjusting my mic again, I look out the window at the rolling Hollywood Hills as my thoughts go back to the girl I took home last night. She loved big dick, and she wasn’t shy about telling me how much she loved mine. She licked it like a damn popsicle, and thinking about her bright red lipstick smeared all over my cock is making me hard right now.

“Listen.” I adjust my boy and grab the mic. “Like I said, you can’t help how you feel. But remember that there's going to be a fucking line of guys waiting for your girlfriend if you dump her over this. Plus, tits are tits. Small, big, and the sexiest thing about a girl is just when she’s comfortable, isn’t it? How comfortable is your girl if she’s got to consider a fucking elective surgery to fix something about her? Something that, I’m sure, is perfectly fine as it is, but something she just wants a little help with?”

“I agree, Ryan.” Kayla lifts her eyebrows and nods in approval at my answer. “For her sake, I hope she’s listening to this and dumps this jackass for wanting to put his own physical preferences over her health. Hello, ever heard of a padded bra?” She shakes her head and her black bob haircut swishes around her heart-shaped face, all perfect alabaster skin and bright blue eyes and cateye glasses.

“Good point,” I chime in. “Gift your girlfriend a new padded bra once she has the surgery. Something nice and lacy, you girls like that shit, right?”

“We do, Ryan,” Kayla smirks. “You know women so well.”

“So the matter’s settled, man. You’ve got to support your girlfriend in her journey, spring for some fancy new lingerie to celebrate the occasion, and have her leave it on the first time she lets you fuck her once she’s post-op.”

“Sometimes I think leaving something on during sex can be hot,” Kayla offers. “So maybe you can get some crotchless panties to go with the new bra. Get one that pads her out to some nice double Ds, and you’ll both be happy.”

“Compromise. It’s what you need to make sex work.”

This is just another day at work for me, and I fucking love it.

“This is Dirty After Dark, giving you answers to all the questions you have about sex and love. New episodes come out every Friday morning at half past midnight. That’ll wrap up the show. Next week, we will be talking live in the studio with a man who…” I trail off and rub my eyes with the palms of my hands as I squint, checking the document I have open on my computer in front of me.

I shoot a look at Kayla and she reads my mind, closing her eyes and nodding slowly.

“...we’ll have a man from Portland who likes dressing in latex full body suits and having his wife and her friends make fun of how small his dick is. Catch you next week. Dirty After Dark out.”

Kayla kills the recording and stands up, stretching her tattooed arms over her head as a few of the interns come into the glass-enclosed recording studio.

“Good show today.” I clap a couple of the interns on the back and walk over to the window. “Tired, Kay?”

“Ugh, yeah.” She pads over in her bunny slippers with her iced latte and joins me at the window. “I got in late. Actually, I got in early.”

“You ever even make it to bed?” I look down at her. She’s like a sister to me. We’ve been working together since before I can even fucking remember, back when we roomed together in New York City before making our way out west to Hollywood.

“Nah. I just showered up and grabbed myself my much-needed drug.” She holds up her coffee and shakes it in my direction, the ice cubes clanking around inside the plastic cup. “My true love,” she adds, taking a sip.

I snap my fingers and go back over to my desk as the interns tidy things up around me, one of them stacking up a few plastic cups from the brainstorming session we had last night to prepare for next week’s show. Shit, I’m pretty fucking beat myself. The interns will clean up the audio for the show, my editor will put all the ads where they belong, and everything will be ready to release tonight at twelve thirty on the dot. I gather up my laptop and walk over to the door, heading back to my office as Kayla follows behind me.

“What else do we have going on today?” We shoulder our way through the plush, tufted purple hallway, covered with framed posters of the recording greats and sex experts of our time and before. We get to my office and I ease into the chair behind my desk and put my feet up. There’s a lot going on right now, and between the show and a few endorsement deals we have going on, it’s a lot to juggle.

“You have interns coming in this morning to interview,” Kayla says, handing me a folder across the desk.

“Shit.” I take my feet off my desk and lean across to take the folder from her. “That’s today?”

“Afraid so. This is the best group of candidates we’ve had so far,” she says, taking a seat in one of the big white leather club chairs on the other side of the desk.

The crop of interns we have now is good, but we’ve had some bad luck with interns. I take full responsibility. I have a habit of wanting to surround myself with beautiful women, but a lot of the interns I’ve hired in the past haven’t had their head in the game. They look good on paper, but then they get here and act like spoiled princesses. It might be a show about sex, but that doesn’t mean it’s all fun. It’s still work, which is what a lot of people tend to forget when they walk through the door. Just because I’ve got a plaster cast of my dick displayed on my bookshelf and our guests frequently include sex educators and strippers doesn’t mean this isn’t hard work at times.

“Have you screened these yet?” I say, thumbing through the pile of resumes on my desk. I flip through, and it’s a diverse mix of recent college grads who want a start in broadcasting and media and, because it’s a paid internship, some older folks who have careers in either sex education or sex work, who just want something different to do. I’m open to both groups.

“Yeah, I went through them,” Kayla responds, sinking back into her chair and throwing her legs over the side, opening her laptop. “You want to review them together?”

“I guess so.” I keep thumbing through, until I get to a resume that looks a little different. “This is interesting.”

Her name’s Sara Montgomery, and her resume jumps out at me. She’s in her senior year of college, with a major in biology and a minor in environmental science. The only job she’s had so far was as a math tutor for the SAT.

“You see this one? Ms. Montgomery?” I grab the resume and slide it across my desk to Kayla.

“Yeah,” she says, nodding her head, eyebrows raised. “I thought she looked interesting. Not exactly the kind of background we normally look for, but I thought she could bring a fresh perspective.”

“I agree.” I tap my bottom lip and turn her name over in my head, imagining what she looks like. Sara Montgomery. It’s got a nice little ring to it. I wonder what she’d sound like with my name on her lips, calling me boss and doing what I tell her. I picture her standing next to me at my desk, leaning over me, saying sign here, boss, pointing to a signature line on the last page of a contract before I grab her by the hips and bend her over my desk.

Shit, but her background makes her sound serious, studious, and just what I need to get some fresh blood pumping through my veins.

“Bring her in,” I say, “and this one, too.” I pull another interesting resume out of the stack and hand it over to Kayla. “He sounds like someone we could use around here, too.” He’s a retired high school health teacher.

Between him and Sara, I have two good candidates - and I’m sure to find someone who’ll give me something different.