Dirty Talk

by Lauren Landish

  But no amount of beta testing is going to be able to catch everything, so I hunker down, obsessively looking at my notes and trying to hunt down which lines need to be adjusted. It’s hard, stressful work, and I’m running out of time.

  Part of me knows I shouldn’t stress. Lots of programs are released without being perfect. That’s what updates and patches are for. But I really want to make sure this is good right off the bat so it doesn’t get a bad rap.

  Still, it’s slow, dull work, and my mind keeps going to thoughts of Derrick. Since my talk with Elise where I realized how hard I was falling, and our subsequent confessions of ‘I love you’, we’ve texted constantly, even as he’s given me time to do work. Pic exchanges helped some, but damn there’s no substitute of being in his arms.

  The day wears on, lunch scarfed while I try to focus, but by the time six o’clock rolls around, my eyes are half crossed and I’m needing a break. Firing up my browser, I go to the website that lets me listen in to Derrick, ready for my own Love Whispering on my headphones.

  “Good evening, it’s my personal second favorite day of the week, Hump Day Wednesday,” Derrick says, making me grin. At least someone enjoys Wednesdays, even if it’s just for a corny opening joke.

  “What’s your favorite day of the week?” Susannah asks. “Friday?”

  “Nope,” Derrick replies. “Saturday. Get to sleep in, watch cartoons in my PJs, and have the whole day and night to do whatever, or whoever, I want.”

  You mean you have all evening to spend with me, if the last month or so has been any indication, I think. I like Saturdays too.

  Susannah gives a grade-school-worthy “Ooh!” and her delight at Derrick’s joke is palpable.

  “Tonight’s show is about something that could even be more important than actual bedroom performance,” Derrick says.

  “Wait, there’s something more important?”

  “Yep. What’s the point of having all the best tricks in the toolbox if you never get a chance to show them off?” Derrick asks. “What I mean, of course, is flirting and the art of meeting someone. Now, unless you get all your dates off of Craigslist, you gotta actually talk to someone and meet them. That takes guts and sometimes reading signals. Not everyone has a blinking sign on their chest that says ‘take me to bed, you big stud.’”

  “You and I must go to very different parties then,” Susannah quips. “Personally, I just have to say one word . . . yes.”

  I giggle, Susannah’s funny sometimes. Normally she’s not, but recently, she’s been a lot more playful as Derrick’s been more straight talking, less flirty.

  “Maybe that works for you,” Derrick says, chuckling, “but for a lot of us, we need some help. I sure did.”

  “You?” I ask in stereo with Susannah. “How?”

  “Way back when, I developed a crush on one of the girls in my school. She was pretty, a social leader, played on the girl’s volleyball team, all that. I was a sophomore and basically ate, slept, and breathed football. Didn’t have much practice talking to the opposite sex. Needless to say, she left me tongue-tied.”

  “Oh really? Mr. Love Whisperer didn’t know what to say?”

  “Nope. Every time I had a chance to talk to her, I found myself acting stupid or posing awkwardly like I was Mr. Chill. In the end, I lost my chance. She started dating a guy, and they stayed together until they both graduated. That’s okay, I’ve moved on and things are great, but lesson learned. Take the shot! I never even knew if she liked me back because I didn’t know how to read her signs or if I was giving out any signs myself other than a Wyle E. Coyote ‘Help!’ sign. Anyway, let’s get to some callers. Who’s up first, Suz?”

  “First up, we’ve got Rich.”

  “How’re you doing, Rich?”

  The voice that comes on has to be partly played up, this guy sounds like he just came out of a Dukes of Hazzard re-run. “Well D, I done got me an issue. You see, there’s this lady that I see quite often, actually she’s my hair stylist.”

  “So you see her how often?” Derrick asks, and I lean forward, forgetting my work.

  “About twice a month, but every time I swear she’s lookin’ at me like she’s interested. I mean, I know she’s single, a little older than me but not too much, and she’s as purty as they come. But I don’t want to make it awkward if I approach her and she says no, know what I mean? I mean, I’ve got one of those heads of hair that just needs a good touch, and she’s about the only one who can keep me from just saying fuck it and shaving the whole thing off.”

  The call continues, with Susannah taking most of the lead on that one. “A lot of how women flirt can be almost subtle, and it’s a combination of things,” she says. “For example . . . Derrick, describe what I’m doing.”

  “You just tossed your hair over your shoulder,” Derrick says, and inside I feel a little jealous.

  “And now?”

  “You did the same thing.”

  “Right, but this time, I smiled and kept eye contact for longer. You see, when a woman is interested in a man, we usually play it like . . . well Rich, do you fish?”

  “Who doesn’t like to fish?”

  “That’s up for another debate,” Derrick says. “But go ahead, Suz.”

  “Sometimes we try to play it like a fisherman trying to get that big bass to latch onto the hook. If we just throw ourselves out there, the fish knows either the bait’s bad or it’s just a trap to get them on a big fucking hook, right? But if you play it too hard, the fish will lose interest and move on to something easier. So sometimes teasing a man along to see if they’re really interested is the best way. But Rich, you’ll never know if you don’t try.”

  “And if there’s a big fucking hook in the middle of the bait?”

  “Some people call that marriage,” Derrick jokes, and even I have to laugh at that one. “Seriously though, sounds like good advice. If you think she’s interested, and you’re obviously interested, go for it. Not saying you have to show up next time singing Alan Jackson for her, but hell man, call her up and ask if she wants to get a cup of coffee or go to dinner. Worst thing that could happen is she says no. Best thing . . . well, there’s a lot of great things that can happen too. Even with big hooks.”

  The calls continues, and as I listen, I notice a trend. I realize the show is about flirting and how to ask the opposite sex out, but I can’t shake the idea of Susannah flirting with Derrick, even if it’s for the radio. Normally, I’m not the jealous, possessive type, but damn . . . I’m ready to kick some ass when the song break comes on and I fire off a text to Derrick.

  How’s the show coming along?

  Fun, but I can’t wait until its over. Getting awkward.

  Relief. He’s upfront about what’s happening, which means he’s just doing this professionally. I can deal with that. Me2. OK, gonna try and work. Call U after show.

  Reassured a little, the show comes back on and I turn back to my code. “Okay everyone, after spending the last hour or so talking about how ladies’ show attraction, let’s talk about how men do it.”

  “Besides popping a stiffy, you mean.”

  “Obviously,” Derrick says.

  “Well, if that’s the case, since I did you, you have to do me now,” Susannah says. “I mean . . . well, that certainly didn’t come out how I meant it.”

  I can hear bullshit in someone’s voice . . . and I’d say right now Derrick’s studio stinks like a dairy farm.

  Derrick laughs a little awkwardly. “You know Suz, I think a list might be better, since our fans listen and don’t watch. Quit pouting, Suz, we’ve only got a three hour show.”

  Pouting? What the fuck, Derrick, are you blind? She’s flirting with you right now! All that shit she’s been doing for the past hour hasn’t been for the show!

  Derrick is trying to get back on topic while Susannah tries to play it off. Finally, he gets around to listing out how guys like to flirt. There’s nothing all that groundbreaking from my point of view. Eye cont
act, compliments, smiles, brushing hair behind ear, touching the small of her back.

  Actually, listening to him makes me smile and forget the anger at Susannah. Derrick’s done all those things to me, plus some. I blush, knowing that Derrick’s little flirts fill my belly with warmth and that he still does them makes me feel . . . I dunno, safe? Appreciated?

  “Okay, time for another caller,” Derrick says. “Now, we’ve been covering a lot of classical flirting, but our next caller’s got a slightly more twenty first century problem. We’ve got Kim. Go ahead, Kim.”

  “Hi Derrick,” a slightly nervous girl says. “I’ve been talking to this guy online. How do I know if he’s flirting with me? A lot of guys just send me pickup lines, or after the bare minimum of back and forth conversation, they send dick pics. But what about the ones that aren’t perverts?”

  Derrick hums. “Sounds like you’ve learned to avoid the sketchy ones. That’s fishing . . . just looking for a hole to put a hook in. Some are just looking for some attention, maybe seeing if they can get some nudie pics without having to actually work for it. Now, maybe you want that, nothing wrong with casual hook ups if that’s what you both want. But if you want more, it’s hard to get to really know someone through words on a tiny screen. Eventually, you need to talk and spend some time together. You need those physical clues.”

  Susannah speaks up in agreement. “You gotta look into their eyes for real. And be on the lookout everywhere. You might find the one person you’ve been looking for somewhere you go all the time, like the coffee shop, the gym, or work. Be open and friendly with everyone, and see who’s receptive and then flirt away.”

  “That’s kinda hard. I don’t really have a lot of guys around.”

  Derrick chuckles, “Kim, roughly half of the population is male, they’re around. I promise. Just stay open to finding them.”

  He ends the call, and hums into the mic. “One other area of flirting we haven’t addressed yet is the flirting you do after you’ve already snagged someone.” His usual velvet radio voice has a hint of gravel and I know it’s for me, a signal that he’s thinking of me with this topic. Warmth builds in my tummy.

  “Even after you’re in a relationship, flirting is still important. Send good morning and goodnight texts or calls, get them little presents if something reminded you of them. It doesn’t have to be anything big, just a sign you thought of them and what they’d like. Maybe get him a coffee cup from his favorite team to keep at your place, or buy her favorite lotion to keep at yours. Speak to each other and more importantly, listen. Compliment them, their body, their brain, their talents. Your partner should always know what attracted you to them in the first place and what attracts you to them today, whether it’s the same things or new things.”

  I smile, thinking that this is nearly a blueprint of how we get along. He’s right, every day he does something to remind me how I make him feel, and he helps me feel beautiful every day. He helps me feel like maybe, just maybe, there’s a silver lining to the clouds in life. Maybe my little Styrofoam cup isn’t so small after all and I can have a bigger slice of ‘happy ever after’ like the one Jessie has and the one my mom is finally getting.

  It also reminds me, he needs to get that too. Reaching for my phone, I send him another text. Just to let you know . . . you’re the sexiest, kindest man I’ve ever met. Just thinking of you. Call me later.

  Count on it.

  They take two more calls, nothing major although one is cute as he says this is his chance to tell the girl he’s interested in her, and then they go to another song break, old school Sophie B. Hawkins with Damn, Wish I Was Your Lover.

  I jam out for a bit, this was a song Mom loved to sing along to before Carpool Karaoke was around, but after a moment, my phone rings. Derrick.

  “I’ve only got a minute while the song plays,” he says, his voice low, “but I was missing you. And thanks for the text.”

  “I miss you too, not just sex but actually being with you. In your arms, hearing your voice turn to gravel just for me. Just hanging out, spending time together.”

  Derrick growls lightly, and I know exactly how he feels. “Damn, Kitty Kat. I know you’re busy and I don’t want to take away from your work, but I need to be with you tonight. I need to touch you, feel you.”

  Just his words already have me simmering and I need him just as much. “How soon can you get home after work?”

  “As soon as this song ends, we’re wrapping up for the night,” Derrick says. “Leave the office, I’ll be home in less than an hour. Hey, Kat . . . wear that teddy and boy short set from the other night. I believe I promised to take them off with my teeth.”

  I whimper at the thought, and remind myself, I gotta start packing a backpack for nights like this. “Fuck, Derrick. Yes you did. I’m gonna hold you to that promise. Oh, one other thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m dropping off my toothbrush too.”

  “Damn right you are.”

  Chapter 19

  Derrick

  It’s only thirty minutes later that I’m opening my front door, rushing to pick up my coffee cup from the table. Usually there’s a post-show meeting, but I bailed tonight with an excuse about having plans.

  Susannah gave me the stink eye, but that seems to be her status quo lately. And it wasn’t a lie, I do have plans. Specifically, to slip that sexy lace right off of Kat’s body, slow and easy with my teeth, licking all along her skin as I do it.

  I rush to the bathroom and give my teeth a quick brush, making love after spicy enchiladas for dinner is not a good idea, and just get my mouth rinsed when there’s a knock on the door and I grin, looking at myself in the mirror. The man who looks back is overjoyed, not just horny, and I know I’ve found a woman who could really be for me like Mom was for Dad.

  Opening the front door, my stomach leaps as I see Kat standing there. There’s none of the elevated heels, none of the little pretentious pieces of armor she used at first to hide her worry and insecurity. Instead, there’s just a five foot two inch, honey blonde beautiful woman in sweatpants and a zipped-up jacket, her eyes sparkling as she looks up at me. “Well hello there lover. Wondered if you might have space to put me up for the night.”

  “I can think of a space I can fill,” I joke, tugging her inside. She’s got a backpack over her shoulder, she did just like I asked and brought clothes for tomorrow too it looks like. “God I missed you.”

  “I can tell,” Kat says, setting her bag down and half jumping into my arms. “I missed you too. How was work?”

  “Susannah’s being kind of a tyrant, but I get it, I’m not exactly putting a hundred and ten percent into each show recently,” I admit, hugging her tight and nuzzling her neck. “I need a bit more practice at work-life balance, because I’ve found someone more important than my work.”

  “Mmm . . .anyone I know?” she teases, her eyes glinting with delight.

  I look up at her, deviling her back. “Oh, just my new pet . . . Kitty Kat.” I move back to her neck, nibbling at the soft skin, hoping I leave tiny marks to show she’s mine.

  Kat purrs, “God that feels good. Really, Derrick. You make me feel special, worthy.” Her words light me up, knowing that she’s finally letting go of the chinks her life has left in her armor, she’s developed her own self-confidence. She’s always been worth so much more than she’s received, I didn’t change that, I just offered her what I could . . . all of me, and I’m proud that she’s giving herself back to me. I trace along her jawline with my tongue, finding her lips in a breathy kiss. Our kiss deepens as I carry her through my living room, but she pulls back, her eyes alight with naughty heat. “Not the bedroom . . . not yet. I want you to have dessert first. Take me to the kitchen.”

  I nod, my brain swirling with excitement and anticipation for what Kat might have in her mind. Along with her blooming self-confidence, she’s definitely unleashed her inner sex kitten. She said she was quiet, even repressed, but as we’ve explo
red together, she’s relaxed and has shown that she has a deep well of passion inside her that I feel damn lucky to swim in.

  I set her on the countertop and step back, watching as Kat unslings her backpack and opens it. The first thing she pulls out is a set of black heels, which she sets aside. “Tomorrow’s work outfit. The rest is downstairs in the car.”

  “You have something for dessert in there for me?” I ask, and she nods, pulling out a jar of maraschino cherries. “Cherries?”

  “Uh-huh,” Kat says, unzipping her jacket. Underneath she’s only wearing the same see-through teddy she wore for our hot phone chat the other night. I can see her pink nipples already pulled tight, poking out the thin, silky fabric, inviting me to taste. “Just have to choose the right bowl.” She opens the jar, plucking a single cherry out and holding it up, her tongue peeking out to swipe the small drop of juice off the fruit. “Here . . .here . . .” She questions as she traces the sweet fruit along her cleavage, before pulling down her sweatpants to reveal panties that match her top. “Or maybe here,” and she dangles the cherry right over her bare mound, visible through the sheer fabric.

  Kat spreads her legs and I can’t help but lick my lips at the almost see through window of her panties and I watch her puffy lips spread slightly. “I’m feeling a little gluttonous, might want more than one cherry,” I tease, pulling my shirt off and stepping between her creamy thighs to snap my teeth around the cherry, pulling it roughly off the stem before swallowing it almost whole. I kiss her, the sweet tang of the cherries blending with our breaths as she sets the jar down on the counter to tangle her hands in the belt loops of my jeans, pulling me close as she wraps her feet around my legs, locking me in place as if there’s anywhere else I’d rather be.

  The cherries momentarily forgotten, like promised, I take the strap of her teddy in my teeth and slide it off, kissing down the exposed swell of her breast until I find the stiff, crinkled tip of her nipple. I run my tongue around the edge and then bite it gently, pulling her into my mouth and stretching her breast until she gasps. “Oh fuck Derrick . . . god you’re making my pussy so wet.”