Chapter Nine
“And you’re back with Doc and Honey on Let’s Talk about Sex. We’ve been discussing the intimate act of oral pleasure. Just a reminder, as on all our shows, we have a three-second delay to help us smooth out anything that might ruffle the FCC’s feathers. So be nice, don’t make me bleep you. Caller, you’re on the air. Welcome, lover, do you have a question?”
“Yeah, can you…you know…do that if you wear braces? I just got them and my husband is scared.”
Over red-rimmed eyes, Bastian’s brows shot upward. He shook his head before leaning into the mike.
“Can’t say as I blame him. Is it possible? Sure, just go slow, be easy and keep it light. The more metal there is, the more it’s going to bother you. Opening your mouth wide enough for…certain things may be painful. Just remember that metal and flesh together mean proceed with extreme caution.”
“More Popsicle, less bobbing for apples, if you get my meaning,” Charlie piped in. “And word of warning, pubic hair in your braces is never a good look. Carry floss.”
Bastian groaned. “Now there’s a fashion tip you’ll never see in Vogue.”
“Hey, I provide a service no one else can, Doc. Ready for another caller?”
“Sure. Let’s hear it.”
“Hello, caller. You’re on the air with Let’s Talk about Sex. What can we do for you tonight?”
Across the partition, Justine held up a coffee cup and arched her eyebrows. Bastian nodded, holding up two fingers. Double strong, he needed the caffeine. Although he’d fallen asleep for an hour on her couch after work, Charlie ached for how tired he looked. But still, he listened intently to the stammering male voice on the open phone line.
“My girl and me…I mean, she wants it…wants me to…I can’t. I just can’t. I don’t want to make her feel bad, but I don’t like it. Is that wrong?”
Charlie hopped in to cover Bastian’s silent yawn. “What’s your name, lover?”
“Sam.”
“Okay, Sam, there’s never anything wrong with saying no to something you’re not comfortable with. Got that? No is fine, for men as well as women. But you shouldn’t chuck the whole idea without trying different things. What don’t you like about it? Can you tell me?”
“I don’t know…it…I mean…when she…”
“Sam,” Bastian said gently. “Did you like your first sip of liquor? The very first one?”
“Nah, it tasted like sh—I mean—crap, but, you know, my dad drank it so I thought…”
“It’s kind of like that, an acquired taste you have to grow into sometimes. And every woman is different. If that’s the problem, there are flavored gels and oils that make things more appetizing, catch my drift?”
“Yeah, I see what you’re saying but that isn’t really it.” A loud sigh blasted the airwaves. “I don’t like raw oysters either, get it, Doc? Texture, that’s it.”
“Ah.” Charlie arched her brow at Bastian in silent question. He nodded. Blowing out a soundless breath, he locked his eyes on the microphone.
“Okay, Sam, try this. Get in the shower with her. Lean her back against the wall. Go down on your knees. Make sure the water is hitting you in the back of the head. Put her leg over your shoulder and go for it. If things start getting too…slippery, congratulations, you’re doing something right. Move your head to the side for a few seconds and let the water…rinse things off…then go back to a clean slate. Understand, Sam?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that might work. I could try that.”
“Good luck, man. Thanks for calling.”
Charlie stared at Bastian in rabid fascination. “My, my, my, Doc, you went above and beyond the call of duty with that little tidbit. Just a fount of information, aren’t you?”
“I take my job seriously.”
Seriously maybe, but humor lurked in his tone.
“I see that and now I’m seriously wishing for a shower.”
“Showers are nice, but I like oysters, Honey.” His tease brought swift warmth flooding her panties. Dr. Hot was turning up some heat of his own.
“Ah, yes, but can you find the hidden pearl?”
“No sense in going oyster diving if you’re not going to find the buried treasure.” Sizzling lust beamed from his eyes, a promise veiled in innuendo.
Charlie canted her head. “Nice to know, Doc. I like a man who can handle his gemstones. You ready for another caller?”
“Yep.”
“Hello, caller, you’re live with Doc and Honey. What can we help you with?”
Behind her, the door creaked and the rich scent of coffee filled the room as Justine brought a heavy-bottomed station mug in. Bastian took it with a grateful look and she ruffled his hair. Justine treated Bastian like one of her college-aged sons, including scolding him when she thought he needed it. Charlie shook her head at the silent offer for a cup and tuned in to the young woman on the line.
“Hi, Doc. Hi, Honey. I love your show. I learn so much. I just have a quick question. Are flavored condoms as strong as regular ones? Someone told me the flavoring weakens the latex or whatever.”
“Flavored condoms go through the same testing and regulations nonflavored ones do.” Charlie kicked off her sandals and pulled her leg up under her behind. “The only thing with flavored condoms is the closer they get to their shelf-life end, the more likely the taste is going to change and sometimes it gets nasty. They are just as durable in every other way.”
“Great, thanks, Honey. Give Doc a smooch for me. Bye.”
“Okay, I’m going to take that caller’s advice and spend a few minutes smooching on the good doctor. You all do some smooching of your own and we’ll be back in three. See you soon, lovers.”
With the commercial plugged in, Charlie muted the sound and hit the seldom-used timer before spinning her chair to the man beside her. “Oysters, huh?”
“The caller said it, not me.” Behind the spill-proof mug, his smirk preceded a chuckle. “So are you going to start smooching anytime soon?”
“Want a kiss, do you?”
“I want more than that but I’ll take a few kisses.”
Reaching behind her, she grabbed a handful of silver-wrapped chocolates and placed them on the console before him. “Have as many as you like.”
“Not exactly what I had in mind, but the sugar won’t kill me, I guess.” He reached for a candy, his eyes locked on her. “So are you playing hard to get now?”
“Getting hard is your department. I just like torturing you.”
“You do it well.”
“So how are your boys doing, Bastian? Sure they don’t need a little smooching to take the sting away?”
“Let’s quit talking about my balls, okay? They ache enough without you getting things all worked up and turning them blue.”
He unwrapped a chocolate and popped it in his mouth. Deliberately, she shifted on her seat, raising her bare feet to his leg. It wasn’t an uncommon position for them and he dropped his palm to her arch, intent on rubbing her foot. His hand stilled as his eyes fell to her bare leg beneath the hiked green print skirt. Provocatively, she bent one knee further, the skirt sliding higher.
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 physical. 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.
“I know. Assholes like that just piss me off. I should’ve read the damn thing before printing it. If I’d had more sleep, I would’ve used my head and done it. I’m sorry, Charlie, but I felt it needed to be dealt with.”
“He’s right.” Swallowing her pride, she shared another of her private fears. “He’s not the first to feel that way and he won’t be the last. I’m not ashamed of who I am. I danced for four years, Bastian. There are hundreds of men who have seen me nearly naked and I’m okay with that. It was a job that paid very, very well when I needed tuition money.”
The dam had been breached and there was no escaping the rush of words as they spilled from her lips. She laid out the truth in all its harsh lines and angles.
“I’ll never be June Cleaver. I don’t want to be. Sexualized banter is my trademark and I’m good at it, but it gives people a reason to shun me, think less of me, devalue me as a human being. There are doors in society that will never open for someone who brings the bedroom to the airwaves in frank and honest words without apology. It’s okay for Howard Stern but not a woman. Women will always be judged more harshly than men for the same behavior. Do you really want to tie yourself to me knowing all that?”
Bastian drew a deep gulp of oxygen and forced it out with a loud sigh. He turned his chair, arms still crossed, and glared at her.
“I don’t give a flying rat’s ass what narrow-minded people think about me or you or our choices. I am tied to you, Charlie, and that’s exactly where I want to be. My butt has been in this chair since Let’s Talk about Sex first went on the air, and I don’t regret one minute of it. Sure, it’s fun but we do help people. How many have called back and thanked us for answering stuff they can’t ask to their doctor’s face? How many people have emailed saying we helped them talk to their partners, saved their relationships? I refuse to feel dirty because we help people.
“As for your dancing, who cares? You danced on a stage to pay for your education. It’s not like you were selling yourself on a street corner. I’ve seen thousands of people in this area buck naked and in much more embarrassing positions than talking about orgasms and condoms. If someone wants to judge me, let them. If they want to shun me, let them. I’m not ashamed of anything we’ve said, done or may do and I will never be ashamed of who you are. If I wanted June Cleaver, I’d have looked for her. I want you, just the way you are.”
Clapping came across the intercom as Justine applauded his words. Hot liquid filled Charlie’s eyes, sealing her throat and preventing words. The harsh lines of his face softened as he wheeled to her and pulled her close. Bastian gave the best hugs. She let loose a single sob and buried her face in his shoulder.
He kissed her. He didn’t care that Justine was watching, he just gave her his love. He gave it as he’d said, unashamed and not caring who thought what. The kiss lasted until Justine spoke a five count, ticking down the last seconds of the break. Charlie wiped her face and turned to the console, Bastian’s fingers wrapped tight around her own.
The Honeypot took control.
“Welcome back, lovers. Are you ready? It’s time.” One light finger press and the mixed and mingled songs of 2 Live Crew and the Dixie Cups filled the room. The back-and-forth opposing lyrics faded as she drew a cleansing breath. “Tally sheet. Who’s ahead in the Race for Wed or Bed? Last show the score was tied at two each. What’s the verdict, Doc?”
“Still no ring on your hand, Honey.”
“And no prying that zipper down. So ante up, how many points have I scored since Wednesday’s show?”
“Six.”
“Six? Okay, I know three came from tonight’s show. Where are you getting the other three?”
“Ah, the note you put in my dinner. That was cruel and definitely worth a point. Those words alone kept the cornbread hot.”
“Liked that, did you, Doc?”
“You could say that. Plus, there was a dream those words inspired tonight when I took a nap. Absolutely worth two points.”
“A dream? About me?”
“Oh, yeah.” His lusty sigh banished the heavy aftermath of turmoil.
Her giggle felt good after the emotional upheaval and she gave it free rein. “And just think, Doc, I wasn’t even trying.”
His groan spiked the vocal gauge into the red zone. “Okay, Honey, your turn. I admit I’ve been a little busy, so my point value—”
“Nine.”
He whipped his face toward hers. “Nine? How did I score nine points?”
“You underestimate yourself, Doc. Two points for trusting me to pick out costumes for the Summer Kickoff even though you’re scared to death I’m going to put you in another skirt or tights. Trust is a big thing. It’s worth two points.”
“I do trust you. Plus, I plan on carrying scrubs in the car just in case.” He winked.
“And another two points for actually eating my cooking. That takes bravery.”
“And antacid. I’m kidding. The chicken wasn’t half-bad and I did appreciate you bringing me dinner.”
Charlie tongued her lip and closed her eyes. Honey took a backseat for a minute. He deserved her public gratitude.
“And five points for not having to think twice about supporting me on that email rebuttal. Your anger on my behalf and your words meant more to me than any diamond ever will. No man has ever treated me with as much respect as you did and always do. Thank you, Doc.”
His hand pulled from hers to stroke the crown of her head, a gentle caress of immeasurable tenderness. He could have crowed but he didn’t. He let his fingers glide down her cheek and gave her a smile. “Does this mean I win, Honey?”
“No,” she tossed back saucily. “It just means you’re slightly ahead between the tally sheets. Score of eight to eleven for Doc. But we have a long weekend coming up and you’re not the only one with a few surprises planned. Better padlock that zipper.”
“Long weekend?” He frowned before understanding dawned on him. The indulgent smile lifting his lips widened as he leaned to the mike. “Oh, that’s right. Since the federal government has yet to officially recognize Honey’s birthday as a national holiday, she insists on taking it off every year and makes me do the same. So no live show on Monday.”
“That’s right, lovers. Instead, we’ve compiled a bunch of our most memorable moments on Let’s Talk about Sex. Sit back and reminisce with our recorded selves. Personally, I’ll be out doing my birthday thing on Doc’s credit card.”
“I guess this means I’m supposed to take you out?”
“You better. And there better be presents. I know one particular package I’d like to see.”
“Not until you say the magic words.”
“And what would those be? ‘Open Sesame’ whispered toward your zipper?”
“Cute. More along thing lines of ‘I thee wed.’ Remind me again, how old will you be?”
“All you need to know is I’m legal…and lethal in the dress I bought. You can concede the contest right now because you haven’t a prayer of making it through the weekend unmolested. You’ll be dialing 911 before I’m through with you.”
“Here’s a number for you, Honey. 1-800-marry-me.”
Keying up the closing music, Charlie began the familiar ritual of signing off. “In your dreams, medicine man. Speaking of, it’s time to send Doc off to dreamland with visions of Honeypot dancing in his head. Farewell, our listeners. Remember talk is foreplay, use it and use it well. Love and kisses from Honey…”
“Be safe from Doc.”
“’Til we met again on the crest of the night, take care, lovers. Goodbye.”