All of Me

by ANDREA SMITH

Fuck no.

  I thought Melanie was going to have a coronary right then and there. A woman in her mid-fifties who still needed to whisper words like sex and lube?

  I gave a nod. “Yeah, okay. Well I might toss out my right of refusal on that one, Mel. I mean come on? I can’t even imagine what the ad copy would be on that one!”

  She looked crushed. “Ohh... no Autumn we can only do those during non-prime time slots. This one pays the most to the station and is contingent on having your sexy voice reading the female part. They’re willing to sign a multi-station, multi-year contract for all of their adult products,” she whined. “Do you know how important that is to Dirk?”

  Wait. What?

  “Hold on Mel, breathe... just breathe.” I cautioned. “What do you mean the female part?” I asked.

  She released a cleansing breath. “Well on these, there will be a male/female couple. We’ll have somebody here do the male part... maybe one of the DJ’s or perhaps Neil.”

  Neil?

  “Neil,” I sputtered, “Neil? I can’t imagine Neil doing the male part.” I started chuckling at the thought which soon turned into a fit of laughter. Even Melanie was giggling at the notion of Neil, with his white bread, down home uber-Christian upbringing doing the voice of a guy who needs to last longer!

  Just then Dirk rounded the corner whistling and stopped in his tracks seeing Mel and I laughing together.

  “Want to share the joke with me ladies?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

  I immediately slapped my hand up to my mouth and shook my head back and forth vigorously.

  Thank God Mel spoke up. “I was just giving Autumn the good news so I might as well tell you while you’re here, Mr. Sexton. We have five new sponsors who want Autumn to do promos for their products and services, one offering a multi-station, two-year contract if she agrees.”

  I looked over at Dirk, hoping like hell he didn’t ask for the specifics on this lucrative opportunity.

  But, he did.

  His eyebrows shot up when Mel handed him a copy of the contract offer. His eyes had gone straight to the bottom line.

  Of course they did.

  Dirk Sexton was a bottom line kind of guy.

  He then looked over at me. “Autumn, do you have any reservations with these?” he asked, and I was grateful that he was at least considering my feelings on the matter.

  “Well, um... I’d like to see the copy on it first, would that be okay?” I asked. My inner Ramona was kicking my ass with her stiletto heels. What was I? A prude? Certainly, that was not the case. I relished the idea of having my seductive voice over the radio waves in several major cities, but I also didn’t want these endorsements bringing in the looney-tunes on my call-in show. That was something to be considered.

  Dirk read my indecision. “Melanie, call the people at... he glanced down again at the contract offer to get the name of the company and a smirk appeared, “the people at ‘Sexnificant’ and have them send advance copy over before we agree to execute the deal.”

  “Yes, Mr. Sexton,” Mel said, disappearing back into her office.

  Dirk turned to me. “These personal endorsements are good for the station, Autumn. It looks like you’re becoming a hot commodity.”

  I blushed.

  “How about you stop in my office tomorrow around noon? We can have lunch, go over the copy, and set the schedule for the rest of the promo spots. Melanie did tell you that you get a nice stipend for each promo, right?”

  I nodded. “Yes, she mentioned it. I’m thrilled to do it, Dirk, I just have a bit of trepidation on the Slather promo.”

  There. I’d put it out there. He probably thought I was a big wimp.

  “Yes, I thought about that,” he replied, tapping his index finger against his chin as if in thought. “I don’t want any of your listeners who might be borderline creepers to start stalking you or turning the calls into a Triple X freak show. Why don’t we brainstorm it together tomorrow?”

  My belly did flip flops for some reason. Maybe Dirk wasn’t all about the bottom line after all. I seemed to be peeling his psyche apart like an onion: one layer at a time.

  “Sounds great,” I replied. “See you then.”

  “Have a great show tonight. I’ll be listening,” he called after me.

  I was in the parking garage heading toward my car when my cell rang. I fished it from my pocket and looked at the caller. It was Summer.

  “Hey Sis,” I greeted, a lilt in my voice.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Well what?” I replied clicking the remote to unlock my car.

  “Did you talk to Dirk? Did he take it okay?” she pressed.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry . . duh. I’ve had a busy morning, but yes, I’m leaving the station now. I did have the discussion with him, and while he was naturally disappointed, I do think he’s dealing with it as best he can.”

  There was a pause. “Then everything with your job is okay?”

  “Right as rain,” I chirped, and then I filled her in on the deets for my new promotional gigs. Summer seemed thrilled for me, saying my future could indeed hold the promise of my own syndicated show.

  “Well fingers crossed on that,” I replied, “but it does certainly boost my income a bit.”

  “Well,” she replied. “I think a celebration is in order, don’t you? Maybe we can get together later in the week for a cocktail or two?”

  “Maybe so,” I replied, “but if it’s a show night only one. I do have to be sober for my show.”

  “Well it can’t be Friday because I have a date with Chip.”

  “Chip? Who the hell is Chip?”

  She giggled. “Only a doctor I met at the symposium. Ear, nose, and throat.”

  “Whoa, wait, a doctor named Chip?” I was having some difficulty putting that together in my mind.

  “That’s just his nickname silly. His official name is Charles Edwin Lemaster. He lives in Fishers and we’re going out to dinner on Friday.”

  “Well, sounds good, Summer. Tell me, is he letting you pick the restaurant?”

  “Of course,” she replied.

  “Do yourself a favor, Sis, avoid sushi with this guy.”

  “Oh you!” she said with a laugh, “Wanna meet now for a quick one?”

  “Can’t,” I replied starting my car. “I’ve got to get home and see if I have all of my crabs still kicking.”

  “Yuck,” she said, “Later then.”

  Twenty-Two

  Dirk

  I was looking over the revenue charts for the month. The station was adjusting formidably well with my five-year plan changes and Midnight Caller was breaking station records not only in that time slot, but it was doing better than some of the daytime slots that were usually a well-oiled machine.

  The Golden Ticket, baby. Autumn Dey in all her profitable glory.

  It was Tuesday and we’d met through lunch and the rest of the afternoon discussing changes and then unanimously decided to scrap the original copy and start from scratch.

  It needed to be intimate while tasteful. The sounds of moaning and groaning in one scene for Slather was a little too trashy. I would lose my shit if anyone thought they could just treat one of my employees like a two-bit whore.

  So, Autumn and I had put our heads together and composed several different copy options for Slather.

  I had Melanie email the scripts over to the Sexnificant rep, who immediately phoned back that he loved all of our copy options and elected to use all four which gave us additional revenue. She and I had even rehearsed a couple of them over a working dinner of enchiladas and a strawberry smoothie for Autumn while I had a Burrito and pop.

  It was fun, of course. Autumn was hilarious and smart with facial expressions that communicated more than just words. We also agreed she would make her ‘Slather’ voice a bit huskier versus her signature Midnight Caller voice. And I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t brought my dick to atten
tion.

  We laughed continuously at the various scenarios we created making sure the potential male customers for this product weren’t made to feel their virility was in question or found to be lacking.

  We scheduled the first recording session for Thursday afternoon with one of the weekend DJ’s, Craig Freeman, who we both agreed had the voice to be the poor, but lovable schmuk who apparently had premature ejaculation issues.

  Autumn arrived just after lunch Thursday afternoon to prep before Craig was due to arrive. I’d given her a supportive pep talk to calm her nerves. We were still waiting on Craig Freeman to arrive before we could start. With fifteen minutes to spare, Autumn repeated her lines until they ended up making no sense. By this point, I had already memorized the male lines for no other reason than to support her.

  “Mr. Sexton? You have a call on line four. Craig Freeman.” I heard Bridget say over the intercom.

  Winking at Autumn in a last-minute attempt to encourage her, I picked up the hand-held receiver and brought it to my ear.

  “Dirk Sexton.”

  “Hi Mr. Sexton,” said a hoarse and nasally sounding voice that was more than just raspy but practically on the verge of giving up on life. “I won’t make it today for the recording. I’ve caught a bug and seem to be losing my voice.”

  Fuck.

  “Right. Well, Mr. Freeman, please take care of yourself and get back to us in perfect health.” On the outside, I seemed calm and collected. On the inside? I was ready to punch someone.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Autumn turn to face me, practically giddy from the news. She was nervous and this was a reprieve for her.

  Sorry, buttercup. A deadline is a deadline.

  “Change of plans, everyone,” I announced, shrugging my jacket off and heading for the soundproof studio. “I’m doing the male part. Freeman’s down with laryngitis.”

  I must admit, I took a little sadistic pleasure in watching Autumn pale. I was a nice guy but I wasn’t losing money because a virus decided to fuck with my business.

  No sir.

  “Um, Dirk?” She blinked. I smirked.

  “Autumn?” I answered with a low octave making sure to use eye contact. “Is there a problem?”

  She blushed which I found kind of cute and then waved her hand dismissively, “Oh, what the hell. Let’s lube it up, boss.”

  The entire crew choked on her words and I just laughed like a lunatic.

  With everything set up, we both stood at the microphones, our headsets on, Neil would dub in the seductive porno sounding background music after we’d nailed the script. We looked at one another, with our scripts in hand, desperately trying not to laugh. Time was money and we weren’t stand-up comedians.

  Watching for Neil’s hand signals, I brought my eyes to Autumn and watched as she began the narrator voice-over, using a deeper timber than her usual.

  Go time, baby.

  “Ladies, you own the world. You are a superhero and you are a mother. You are the boss and you are the doting friend. But there are some things you cannot control. Until now.”

  My turn.

  I looked Autumn straight in the eyes and uttered words that in any other circumstance would have my balls by the HR vice.

  “Baby, is it something I’m doing wrong?” Said no Sexton ever.

  “Oh, no, Phil, you’re perfect. It’s just sometimes I think we need a little Slather. You know, honey, to make our intimate moments last... longer.” Said no woman who had my dick within fucking distance, ever.

  “Let me get that for you.” Phil, Phil, Phil…it’s all in the mind, brother.

  “Ahhhh, you really are the best!” Now, that sounded familiar.

  Again, Autumn brought out the narrator voice and finished it off.

  “Slather is always there, for those moments too intimate to control. Available at your local pharmacy.”

  “Cut” Neil hollered from outside of the booth. “Brilliant! You guys nailed it first take. Want to try copy number two as long you’re on a roll?” Neil asked.

  I looked over at Autumn to see if she was game. “Why the hell not,” she said with a wide grin. “Are you up to it Dirk?”

  I gave her a side long glance. “Always.” And we both sat there in a fit of laughter while Neil scrambled to get up the script for Slather 2. We were like two teenagers who had just said “vagina” for the first time.

  True story.

  Twenty-Three

  Autumn

  Dirk and I were having a ball with these radio commercial scripts. Who needed Craig Freeman? Dirk’s acting skills as the accommodating mate who aimed to please his woman by slathering up were impressive, though I doubted he’d ever needed any type of longevity aid.

  I wondered what his dick looked like. Where the hell had that thought come from? Curious about Dirk’s dick? I blushed thinking about it.

  I was pulled back to reality when he came back into the sound booth and put his headset in place, nodding to Neil we were ready for Take 1, Script 2 for the erection longevity miracle cream, Slather.

  I watched Neil’s hand cues. In this one, the male part started first.

  “Nancy, is it my imagination or have you deliberately been avoiding intimacy with me?” I saw Dirk smirk like this seemed completely implausible. It took every atom of self-control not to burst into laughter.

  I gave a sexy sigh into the mic. “You know I love you Bruce—in every possible way—well, except in bed, darling.”

  “I suspected as much, babe. Is it a timing issue?”

  “You could say that, Bruce. I need more time.”

  “I think I found just what the doctor ordered!”

  ‘What is it Bruce?”

  “Slather. It’s a safe, hypoallergenic lubricant proven to enhance longevity and to transform me into the stud you’ve always wanted!”

  “Ohhhh... Bruce... I don’t know what to say?” Dirk proceeded to give me some kind of signature wink, as though he were living the scenario, a Bruce incarnate.

  “Slather me up, babe.” I almost lost it when Dirk broke out the bedroom voice and practically purred the sentence out like a porn star. Scratch that. Better than any porno actor I had ever seen.

  My narrative voice returned. “Ladies, take charge with your man. Slather him up. He’ll love you for bringing out his inner stud. Available at your local pharmacy.”

  “Awesome job!” Neil called out.

  I hit the button on the floor mic. “What’s next, Neil?” I asked, hoping we’d do the rest of the Slather ad copies. No such luck.

  “We’re moving on to do the Tic-Tac-Tile copy Autumn, and then Hip-Hop Pizza. We’ll start in ten.”

  I deflated a bit. It was so much fun doing these Slather spots with Dirk, but I knew he needed to get back to the business of running the station, crunching numbers, reading reports, and whatever else station owners did.

  I turned to Dirk who was removing his headset. “Well Phil/Bruce, it’s been fun. Enjoy your newfound longevity,” I teased, reaching for the file that held the rest of the ad copies scheduled for today.

  Bending at the waist and keeping his eyes locked on mine, he extended an arm and slathered on the charm like a character from Jane Austen, “Always a pleasure, Nancy. I am the time magician, I can go on and on and on…” When my laughter died out, he cleared his throat and then bolted like a bat out of hell throwing a “Have a good day” over his shoulder and nearly missed getting hit in the ass with the door.

  Men. I would never understand the primitive functions that made up their actions.

  I went on to record the promos for Tic-Tac-Tile and Hip-Hop Pizza without a hitch, but I had to admit, after the Slather sessions with Dirk, ceramic tile and stuffed crust pizza were anticlimactic.

  We’d wrapped it up for the day. I glanced at my watch as I headed down the hallway. It was six-thirty. I debated whether I should drive all the way home, dig out some leftover Chinese from the fridg
e for dinner, and then drive all the way back in later for the show. It didn’t appeal to me nearly as much as treating myself to some pub food at The Thirsty Lizard a couple of blocks away, maybe play some darts until it was time to come back to the station.

  I pulled my cell out and was getting ready to call Summer to see if she wanted to meet me when I heard my name being called out by a male voice from behind. I whirled around to see Heath Sparks exiting Dirk’s office, a big wide grin on his face.

  “Just the gal I’ve been hoping to see,” he said coming up to me. “You know you neglected to give me your digits a few weeks back, Autumn, and I’ve been kicking my own ass ever since then. I asked Dirk for it several times, but so far, he maintains he’s misplaced it. I think he’s worried I’ll woo you away from Quirk-99 to put you on staff at my library,” he teased.

  “Oh no worries there,” I replied, “Me and the Dewey Decimal System don’t hit it off at all.”

  Shit! I didn’t mean to make it sound like he and I wouldn’t hit it off. Idiot.

  “So, where were you off to?” he asked, putting his hands in the pockets of his dress trousers, jingling the coins or keys contained therein. God, I hated when guys did that for some reason. It was like fingernails on a chalkboard. I glanced down at his trousers and the offensive sound.

  “Umm . . ,” I replied quickly looking back up to his face, “Just deciding if I wanted to stay in town and grab a bite to eat before I have to be back here tonight.”

  “Hey, perfect timing,” he replied, “How about we grab a beer and sandwich down at The Lizard? Maybe toss some darts, play some pool? I’m great at helping such a delightful lady as yourself kill time before the show. How about it?”

  I debated for a couple of seconds, the continued jingling from his pockets driving me nuts.

  “Sure,” I said, grabbing his arm, “Let’s do it.”

  Thankfully, with our arms linked and his other hand getting the door for me the insufferable nervous jingling stopped as we made our way out onto the street and headed for The Thirsty Lizard.

  Twenty-Four

  Dirk