“You know when you’re pressing every inch of yourself against that person, and while staring into their eyes, regardless if it’s pure lust or true love, there’s that tiny spark that’s strong enough to pause time? When the anticipation of what’s about to come next makes your heart pound so effin’ hard you hear it in your ears? And then…you join your bodies in slow motion, and it’s pure perfection.”
My carnal groaning left nothing to the imagination. After a pregnant pause I went on to add, “With every thrust, the pressure builds until you can’t stand it any longer. And by the grace of the universe, your orgasm forcibly releases with every ounce of sexual energy from your body, leaving you drained. The experience is both heaven and hell at the same time. You never want it to end, yet, if it doesn’t end soon, you’ll never recover. That sensation you get when you’re coming—there’s nothing on this goddamn earth that even comes close. It doesn’t matter if the sex was mind-blowing, mediocre, or even routine—if done right, the moment you release is always nirvana.”
“Damn, man…” Hank chimed in. “Whew, did it get hot in here?”
“It’s always hot in here.” My eyes cut to the clock on the wall. Time flew by at supersonic speed, and I still had so much I wanted to say. But I was out of time, and for the last hour I’d have to sit back and listen. “Okay, L.A. Let’s go to the phone lines, since they’re lighting up like the Fourth of July. You’re on with Vaughn. How can I get you off?”
“Hi, Vaughn. I’m Susie. I just wanted to tell you the sound of your sexy voice has been the last thing I’ve heard every night before I slipped into my bed.”
“Thank you for your support, Susie. Nothing needs to change. I’ll meet you over at Galaxy next month. Date?”
“I’ll be there.”
“You’re on with Vaughn. How can I get you off?”
“Hey, Vaughn. I wanted to thank you for getting me through one of the worst times of my life.”
“I’m glad I could help, and I appreciate you telling me that. You’re on with Vaughn. How can I get you off?”
“Many ways, thank you. Vaughn, because of you I’m no longer intimidated by trying new things and asking for what I want. I now know my body intimately, and that has turned my ho-hum sex life into a fucking awesome one.”
“Aw, honey, I’m sure they dumped that out. But I appreciate you telling me. Thank you. Every woman deserves her mind to be blown. Always be sure to please yourself first. You’re on with Vaughn.”
“Hi, Vaughn…before you, oral sex had no appeal until I realized he just sucked at it.”
“Darlin,’ if your toes aren’t curling, he’s not doing it right.”
Call after call was more of the same. With the way the boards lit up, there wasn’t enough time to get to everyone. A few of my regulars got through, as thousands of others waited and waited, hoping to be connected. Some that I’d never spoken to before made sure to tell me they’d been listening for years but were too shy to call. The support, well wishes, and compliments came in droves and time ran out before I could speak to them all.
It wasn’t just females calling to sing my praises, the men had their own thanks to give.
“You’re on with Vaughn. How can I get you off?”
“You’re a genius. After hearing your show on foolproof seduction, my wife now wants sex more than I do.”
“Make sure you keep pleasing her, and she’ll keep pleasing you. You’re on with Vaughn.”
“Because of you she finally tried anal and loved it. Thank you, man.”
“You’re welcome. You’re on with Vaughn. How can I get you off?”
“Dude, that tip you gave over the air on how to correctly suck a cock…um…”
“They dumped it, no worries. Go on.”
“Sorry, I mean correctly suck a penis. My girl tried it on me. Brilliant, man…just brilliant.”
“It works every time. You’re on with Vaughn.”
“Vaughn, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“You’re over six feet tall. With your amazing body, dark brown hair, steel gray eyes, killer smile, and the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard in my entire life, how are you still single?”
I chuckled over the phone line. “Not sure. I guess I haven’t met the right woman yet.”
“I’ll marry you. I’ll move to New York, bear your children, feed you grapes, and give you massages. I’ll even perform any sexual act that floats your boat, anal included.”
“That sounds like quite an offer. But I’m cranky, stubborn, and an unorganized mess, ask my assistant.”
“I’m fine with that. Your producer has my number if you change your mind. I give amazing head,” she said before hanging up.
Hank my producer shifted in his seat and shrugged at my smirk. As a professional, I could detach myself from the eroticism discussed in detail while doing my job. Most of the guys I worked with, and even some of the women, weren’t as capable of hiding their arousal when listening to callers.
After being on the air at WJAR FM Los Angeles for just over five years, I heard it all. Over time, I accumulated quite a fan base. Some of my critics argued the content of my show made me popular. Well, fucking duh. Sex sold. But it depended on who did the selling. I don’t recall Dr. Ruth ever being dubbed the hottest sex therapist alive.
Yes, my voice reeled them in. But once they stuck around a bit, listened to my advice, searched me on the Internet, and saw my face they became fans for life–especially the females. Most between the ages of twenty to fifty in southern California had heard of Dr. Vaughn Lair.
I was the Best on the Air award recipient three years in a row, featured in Hot Button Magazine’s Hottest Doctors to Watch issue, and dubbed the sexy sex therapist on the radio. Yes, I may not have been the first person to bring sex therapy to the airwaves, but I made my mark by doing so.
With a Ph.D. in psychology, it was while minoring in sexual therapy when I found my passion. Helping couples work through the barriers that prevented them from having a healthy sex life was my forte…and my golden ticket toward a radio career. No one from my generation tackled the plethora of problems that could hinder a healthy sex life, both psychologically and physically…until me. I did so by melding my clinical sex-pertise with sensuality and humor.
Add a deep raspy voice, and it turned out to be the magic formula for radio success.
Tonight my amazing run on FM radio would end as I moved up to satellite pay radio.
Where censorship wasn’t a constant thorn in my side.
Where the money was abundant.
Where I was about to make broadcasting history.
At five minutes before eleven, Hank spun his finger around signaling me to wrap it up.
“Well, L.A…it’s been a great ride. You all have made this possible for me. Night after night you called in with your questions, stories, and problems. Night after night you gave me the absolute privilege to step into your sex lives and help you make them better. Sex is a very important component to our well-being, and a necessary one. It’s no secret sex boosts self-esteem and reduces stress. Studies have shown intimacy through healthy consensual sexual relationships improves overall health. Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah…the bottom line, sex is good for you. So keep doing it.
“I may be moving to New York City, but my heart will always be in L.A. This isn’t a goodbye rather than a talk to ya soon. I expect to hear from you guys next month the first time I flip that On Air switch at Galaxy Satellite Radio. So until then, I’ll leave you all with one more very important piece of advice. I already asked my buddy handling the dump button to let this one go. I say this knowing damn well this will get me fined, but screw it. I might as well go out with a fucking bang…pun intended. For the last time from WJAR.FM Los Angeles, this is Dr. Vaughn Lair. Remember to fuck with all your heart, and fuck like your life depends on it. Good night, L.A.”
Five minutes after I got home from the station my doorbell rang. Before answering, I knew who it was and why she was there after midnight.
“Good show,” she said the moment I opened my door.
“Why, thank you.”
Haven stepped into my foyer holding out a bottle of Dom Pérignon. “I know it’s late, and your party is Saturday, but we must toast now or it’s bad luck.”
“Of course we do. Wouldn’t want the sky to fall or anything.”
“Knock wood!” She barked.
With a sigh, I gave a few knocks on the wood door jamb before leading her into the kitchen. Haven Castell was my best friend, personal assistant, and the biggest OCD pain in the ass I’d ever known. Certain things needed to happen at certain times, and over the years I found it was easier to go with her flow than try to argue.
She watched as I pulled out two crystal flutes from the cabinet. When she removed her jacket, I laughed at her ancient Daffy Duck T-shirt and yoga pants.
“I see you dressed for the occasion.”
At my comment, she looked down and shrugged. “Why waste an outfit?”
Opposite every girl I dated, she rarely wore makeup, lived in yoga pants and T-shirts, and her mess of chestnut curls was always in a haphazard ponytail. If she needed to dress for an occasion, a pair of black slacks and a silky blouse was the outfit of choice. Funny enough, she didn’t need the primping ritual most girls lived by.
With naturally curly hair, big brown eyes, and curves in all the right places, Haven was a natural beauty.
Haven was never one to follow the masses and preferred to walk to the beat of her own drum. While at UCLA, I dated her roommate, Chelsea. Haven barged in to see my bare ass as I pounded Chelsea on her bed. Our heads twisted from the invasion. Unfazed, Haven stood smiling at us for a long minute. She then waved, grabbed a water from the mini fridge, and called out, “You forgot to tie a scarf on the doorknob, Chels…and whoever that is, nice ass,” before walking out of the dorm room.
That day earned me the nickname Mooner, and I then nicknamed her Perv.
A few months later, my relationship with Chelsea ended badly. Haven and I crossed paths several times that year at parties and on campus. When I found her during finals in the campus Starbucks fighting with the barista, I stuck around in case she needed someone to bail her out of jail. By sophomore year we were great friends.
Her mad organizational skills were one of the reasons she worked for me. The other was because her Liberal Arts degree failed to help her find a decent job after we graduated.
One day at lunch, she was on the brink of tears while venting how much she despised fetching coffee for the asshole she worked for. At the time I was new in my radio career and jokingly said I’d pay her to be my assistant until something better came along. The joke became a bona fide offer when months turned into a year with no better prospects in sight for her. Haven Castell has been with me ever since. She kept my life sane and organized, and I paid her well to do so.
Most importantly, she was my best friend, the one person who knew everything about me, or who never lied to me. Honesty was the foundation of our friendship. We were each brutally honest, and that’s why it worked so well.
“So, you couldn’t resist, huh, Mooner?” she asked with a smirk.
I knew just what her question referred to. “Nope,” I said on a short laugh. “The FCC fined me so many times over the years I needed to give them something to get their balls in a twist over. No doubt they’ll miss my contributions to their fat bank account.”
“You could refrain every now and then.”
“Nah. You know it’s what I do.”
“If by what you mean give me heartburn daily, yes…it’s what you do. I won’t miss sending those checks.”
“I’m sure I’ll find something else for you to have heartburn over once we get to New York.”
“Yay, I can’t wait,” she responded with feigned sarcasm before an electric smile lit her face. She watched as I filled the flute before taking it from my hand and raising it in a toast. “Here’s to an exciting new career for both of us.” We clinked glasses and took our obligatory good luck sip. Setting our glasses to the side meant that was the end of the Dom Pérignon, since neither of us liked champagne.
“Speaking of new careers, did you register for classes?”
“Yep, I’m all set. The semester starts the end of January.”
Galaxy came to me. An agent didn’t represent me, nor did I want one to. I had been solicited by a few, and I ended up having a fuck-only relationship with one, effectively putting an end to our agent-client relationship. Lesson learned.
I felt that between my lawyer and Haven, I had all the support I needed. Haven vehemently disagreed. She felt the bigger I got, the more I’d need the proper support system. So, my response to that was that I wanted her to represent me. And she responded, “Okay then, I’m going to go back to school to do it the right way.”
Once she got to New York, she planned to take marketing and entertainment law courses at NYU. Meanwhile, with my producer’s help, she booked me on the three biggest late night talk shows as well as a few during the day. After the New Year, I’d move across the country, begin my press tour and my new job, all organized to the detail by my best friend.
“I still think you need a professional.”
“Who cares what you think.”
“If you had listened to me years ago…”
“Shut up, Perv.”
Her response was to flip me the bird while sporting a smirk. “Ouch,” she said when I leaned over and bit her middle finger.
“Stop harping. We’ve had this argument over and over. No more regrets.”
Haven was always living with regrets. Her latest was that she spent three years with her asshole-ex. The jackass went from being quiet, shy, and reserved to an obnoxious loudmouth B-list actor whose head got too big for his shoulders. The day he broke up with her it took everything I had to not show up at his swanky L.A. condo to beat the shit out of him. Not because I felt he was her perfect match, but because he broke her heart.
“Fine, no more regrets. In fact, I made a bucket list. It’s time to start living.”
“That statement both thrills me and scares the fuck out of me,” I mumbled.
“Why?”
“Because I predict some ridiculous activities in my future. You know how much I hate sightseeing and all that touristy shit.” She shrugged at my assessment with a lopsided grin. “Crap.”
Truth be told, just as I would do anything for family, I’d do anything for Haven. There was one upside of her breakup with the asshole. When I landed the Galaxy spot, I was convinced I’d lose her. Her roots were in California. But once her relationship ended, she said she needed a change and surprised me by saying if I still wanted her then she’d work for me in New York.
“You’re still coming to my parents’ for Christmas Eve dinner?” I asked, knowing she wouldn’t miss it for the world. Haven adopted my parents as her own years ago. Being an only child myself, they welcomed her into their lives as the daughter they never had.
Ironically, Haven was adopted. Although, her story wasn’t one of a tragedy where a baby lands with abusive parents and spends years to come trying to get away from them. Haven’s adoptive parents were lovely people. Her sister, Ruby, also adopted, was a sweet, kindhearted girl.
Haven loved her family, but could never get over why she was given up in the first place. Many times over the years I offered to help her find her biological parents. She absolutely refused. She preferred to believe the story she conjured up rather than the truth. In her heart she needed to believe her mother didn’t have a choice in giving her up. But I felt that without closure, the unknown had led to her constant struggle with abandonment.
At the mention of my family another brilliant smile lit her face. “Of course I’m joining you on Christmas Eve. I’ve been keeping your mom up to date with your itinerary. I assume you also saw it?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Right after New Years, I was hitting a press tour starting in L.A., then Chicago, and landing in New York on the fifth of January. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
“I’m sure. I have so much to do, and if you need me I’m a phone call away. I’ll be there by January 15th, a few days before your first show. You think you can handle being alone for a ten days?”
“Yes,” I responded with an exaggerated eye-roll. “Despite what you think, I can survive without you.”
“We’ll see,” she said with a devious grin. “Twenty bucks says you’ll be a hot mess.”
“You’re on.”
Her eyes drifted to her phone and widened. She flipped it around before thrusting it into my face. “It’s 1:11, quick make a wish!”
I rolled my eyes at her stupid quirk, and muttered, “Yeah, I’m the hot mess.”