The bar, one of those weird little spots that could only exist in a city near a university with a large computer science department and plenty of techies like me, is rockin’ for the type of customers it collects. On one side of the place, three of the interns from the company are engaged in a sick Starcraft battle royale, while around my table are a gaggle of people tossing back European microbrews, trying to look hipster and utterly failing. But we’re having a blast, and that’s all that matters.

“So, what’s next?” my co-worker asks as he looks over at me. “Plan to take over the world?”

I shake my head, sipping at my wine. “Nope, team lead for the new game app. Apparently, they need a healer.”

It’s a cheesy as fuck joke, but I’ve already downed a few glasses, and we’re all at that point where we can set aside our worries and just be silly. Thankfully everyone else is maybe drunker than I am, and they all laugh even if it wasn’t that funny.

Cheers go up, each of them congratulating me. I finish off the glass of Merlot I’m drinking, and just as I set my glass down, my phone rings. I grin, figuring it’s Derrick on a song break on his show.

I hate that I’m missing it tonight, listening in has gotten to be such a daily dirty habit. His voice coming through my stereo, or even my earbuds, all sex and silk, just warms me up for when he whispers dirty things in my ear later, that softness turning to sex just for me. Sure, it’s meant a few nights of working different hours . . . but then again, I’d say the benefits have been more than worth it.

I look at my phone, and see that it’s not Derrick.

It’s Elise. Getting up, I head out into the chilly night air, where it’s not quite so insane and the cool helps me clear my head. Still, the music is easily heard “Hey Elise! What’s up?”

“Kat? Where are you? It’s loud on your end. Can you hear me?”

“Sorry, I’m out with people from work. They loved my new app, we’re sort of celebrating. Why, what’s up?”

“So you’re not listening to the show right now?”

There’s something in Elise’s voice that does more than the cool air to pierce through my wine-induced haze. “No, why? Should I be?”

“Honey,” Elise says, in that voice that she uses whenever shit’s hit the fan somewhere and she knows I’m going to need her to be strong, “I need you to come to my place right now. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, just stop and come here now.”

The fact that Elise isn’t telling me what’s going on scares me, and I rub at my face, another part of me already in emergency procedure mode. I need to settle tonight’s bar tab, get a ride, get to Elise, and . . . well, I don’t know from there. Ugh, I hate being buzzed and adult at the same time. “Elise, what’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Just come,” Elise says. “Now. Get over here.”

That settles it, I trust her with my life. “I’m on my way.”

I head back into the bar, prepared to make half-hearted excuses, but as soon as he sees me, Tyler sets his drink aside. “You okay?”

“A friend called, something important came up,” I tell him. “Listen, can you cover the tab? I mean, I don’t want to-” I look at the door, the urgency live in my chest.

“You can PayPal me the tab on Monday,” Tyler interrupts, waving me off before hooking a thumb at the assembled crew. “As long as these fuckers don’t drink five thousand dollars of cheap beer and wine, I think we’re okay.”

“Deal. Thanks, Tyler.”

I gather my purse and head out the door, flagging down the first taxi I see to head to Elise’s place. “Hey,” I ask as I settle in, “you got satellite radio?”

“Sure do, this baby’s almost brand new,” the driver says. “Whatcha want me to put on?”

“Think you can put on The Love Whisperer?” I ask. “Channel fifty-seven I think.”

“No problem,” the cabbie says. He turns his dial a few times, and soon enough, The Love Whisperer pops up. “You ain’t the first lady who’s asked to listen to that guy, he’s got a voice that could talk the panties off a mannequin.”

They’re in a song break, and when they come back, my heart skips a beat.

“We’re back everyone,” Susannah says, and I give the radio a raised eyebrow. What the hell? “I’m Susannah Jameson, and welcome back to The Love Whisperer. We’re continuing our evening chat on technology in dating before getting to our special guest tonight. More specifically, how to use technology to spice up your love life, and get you to the bedroom, since some folks need a little help even getting there for some real-time action.”

“Ain’t that the damn truth,” the cabbie mutters.

“So let’s continue our discussion of phone sex and video chat sex, and how it can spice things up for long distance relationships, new hook-ups. Or even for regular Joe-and-Bettys who want to try something a little more . . . dirty, raunchy, or dare I say . . . naughty. Whether its Skype, FaceTime, or whatever new app you like, technology can lend a lot of fun to your nighttime activities. Hell, maybe your daytime ones too. But really, once you decide to try a little verbal foreplay beyond just flirting, what do you actually say? Any suggestions, oh Love Whisperer?”

There’s a pause and Derrick’s satin voice comes across the radio, “Just keep it hot, hot, hot, and it’ll do the trick. Guaranteed.”

There’s a hint to Susannah’s voice that I don’t like, an edge that makes me think things aren’t right with her. She sounds . . .angry. And I wonder what’s happening in the studio to cause that. Maybe something happened on air? Did her and Derrick have an argument? Maybe that’s what Elise is calling about?

“Now, we’ve played a few clips already, as shared by our generous Love Whisperer from his personal collection, but we saved this one for last, the crème de la crème of some crazy-hot phone sex. Make sure you’ve got a pen to take notes listeners. Maybe a towel too . . . for the drool.” She giggles throatily. “Let’s take a listen, and we’ll open up the lines for you after this.”

Derrick chuckles, saying “Let’s hear it.” And there’s a split second before the recording starts.

From the first grunt, all the blood rushes from my face as I recognize who it is. “You know I love your tits,” Derrick growls. “Show those perfect tits to me, rub your thumb across your nipples until they're pearled up for me.”

It’s edited, but not for content. Instead, every mention of emotion, every dimming of anything except lewd, nasty fucking sex is stripped out. I listen as my voice comes through the radio, mewling that yes, I’m Derrick’s dirty little slut, my breath audibly quickening and the squelching noises obvious even over the radio as I finger fucked myself for him.

Just as I call out his name, the cabbie reaches over, switching it off. The taxi driver looks at me in the rearview mirror, “Sorry Miss, that’s a bit much for me. The wife would skin me alive for listening to something like that with a lady in the car.”

I nod absently, the ice in my gut rushing through my entire body. Why is there a recording of our conversations? What’s this shit about a personal collection?

I thought those were private, just Derrick and me. I guess he never said that, but obviously I assumed. Why wouldn’t they be? And why would he play them on the air?

Oh god, I’ve been getting played this entire time. The thought hits me like a grenade in the stomach, and the shakes start. I’m barely keeping it together when the taxi pulls up to Elise’s apartment and she’s outside waiting for me.

“I can tell by the look on your face that you already know. What the fuck is happening, Kat?”

Her matter of fact tone gives me some stability, and I hug myself, shaking my head. “I don’t know. That’s us, our private conversations. Why?”

Elise gives the cab driver his fare, and leads me into her place. “I don’t know what’s going on, but that shit’s not okay.”

“Why would he even record them in the first place?” I ask softly, hurt and confused. “I . . . they weren’t meant for the public, they were me baring my heart to him.”

Elise looks at me with pity, then sighs. “Well I could see why he would, they’re pretty fucking hot. Maybe he was just recording them for later . . . spank bank type deal?”

I snort, if Derrick needed spank bank material all he had to do was give me a call, the way we’ve gotten it on over the past few weeks. “He never told me he was recording me, us. Oh god, Elise! He played it on the air, everyone heard me have an orgasm and tell how hungry for his cock I am. He said my name!”

The last fact saps the last of my reserve and I dissolve into tears. Elise does what she can as she gathers me up, pulling me into a hug. I collapse on the couch and she covers me with a blanket, mistaking my shivers of heartbreak as cold. “It’ll be okay, Kat. I listened to the first couple before calling you, he said your name, but there’s gotta be what, a million ‘Kats’? Nobody can prove it was you.”

She rushes into the kitchen, making me a cup of coffee but I just hold it, not able to take a sip with my heart in my throat.

“People will know,” I whisper. “God, he’s been to my place, I’ve been to his. Kevin knows I’ve been with him . . . it’ll get out, Elise. If Kevin knows, he’ll make sure of it. It’ll get out, and I’ll be ruined.”

Elise slips an arm around my shoulders, hugging me from the side. “You need to call him. Figure out what the hell is going on!”

I sigh, looking into the black mirror that is the surface of my coffee. “You’re right. Maybe there’s some reason . . ..” I look up at Elise again, but the truth is clearly written on her face. “Guess not, huh?”

Elise shakes her head. “Damn it, Kat. I’m so sorry. I pushed you into this, I really thought he was a good guy with all the things you said about him.”

“I felt like I had a good feel on him from our dates and his show too, but I guess that’s all façade. Love Whisperer, my ass. God, I should’ve known better, hell I do know better! Guys are always out for themselves and a piece of ass. But he made me believe, and I played right into his hands. This hurts so much worse than before, because he made me . . . hope.” The tears come, hot and burning as they roll down my face, and I cry my heartbreak out for Elise, who strokes my hair and kisses my forehead.

“I promise you Kat, I don’t care if the whole gender of men is going to hell, I’m right here with you.”

“I guess I need to get this over with,” I whisper. I reach into my bag, grabbing my phone. It hurts to see his name in my recent contacts, surrounded with little heart-eyed face emojis, but I need to get this over with before I lose my nerve. And I need answers.

The call rings . . . and rings . . . and rings. “Hey, you’ve reached Derrick King, leave me a message. Or, as this is the twenty first century, send me a text. Bye.”

The phone beeps, and I clear my throat before speaking, but my voice is still wavering. “Derrick, it’s Kat. You need to call me.”

As I hang up, I look at the time and I realize the show is over. He should be able to pick up his phone if he wanted to, just like he has countless times before. He’s avoiding my call. Ignoring me after what he’s done. He doesn’t have the balls to face me.

The ice in my veins freezes. He’d systematically broken down all my defenses from the beginning, one by one pecking away at them to get me to open up to him, and make me think he was one of the good guys. But he lied. This is so much worse than Kevin or my other boyfriends cheating on me, this is a public betrayal at a foundational level. I loved him, truly and deeply, and I thought he loved me. But obviously not if he can air our private life without even asking me. Fuck, he even joked and laughed about it, like it was no big deal.

I don’t know why he’d do this, but fuck him if he thinks I’m some fuck toy he can screw around with.

I’m done with him, done with men.

Forever.

I turn my phone off and hug Elise in tight as the tears roll down my face. I’ll cry out every last tear so that there’s nothing left and then I’ll turn my heart off and never risk loving some backstabbing asshole again.

I’m done, my heart shattered into unfixable shards in my chest.