Whispers in the Dark. Kira Sinclair
with Dr. Desire and his radio show. There was something about that man’s voice that made her insides tingle and turn to goo. Listening to him talk about relationships and sex for hours every night drove her crazy. Of course, she supposed it was self-torture, considering she’d given up all hope of ever having sex again.
“You’re on the air with Dr. Desire. Let’s put some spark back in your love life.”
His familiar voice filled the room around her. Calm and pleasant, deep and dark, Dr. Desire had the uncanny ability to put her at ease and hype her up, all with that one catch phrase.
Comfort and confusion, that’s what he offered. How could she want everything he talked about—a healthy, satisfying relationship plus sweaty, hedonistic, no-holds-barred sex—and yet still be unable to take that first step in finding it?
Listening to his show had become a nightly ritual, one she shared every Friday with Anne. It had started out as a sort of self-prescribed therapy. She’d hoped that hearing men and women talk about sexual relationships every night would take the edge of fear away, would get her juices flowing again. And it had, it did, but each and every time she’d attempted to put that energy to good use, the anxiety would resurface.
Holy hell, she was frustrated.
She wanted sex. She wanted a life. And she wanted someone to share them both with.
“How can he fulfill your needs if you don’t tell him what you want? Listen, ladies, we aren’t mind readers. You want a little adventure with your sex? Then spell it out for him. Trust me, he’s probably willing to try anything once.”
Karyn sighed and leaned back against her sofa. She rattled the ice cubes in her buttery nipple, wishing, not for the first time, that the warm buzz wouldn’t go to waste. But she never drank hard liquor in public, not when there were men around to take advantage.
“Call him.”
Rolling her head sideways, Karyn shot Anne a glare. “No.”
“He’ll have the answer.”
She stared disbelievingly as Anne hopped up and hobbled across the floor toward the phone.
“Ah, no—he won’t.”
“Look, how can it hurt? You’ve seen how many therapists over the last few years?”
“Four in five years.”
“And has anything they’ve told you to do helped?”
“No.”
“Precisely.” Anne duck-walked back to protect her wet polish. With a raised eyebrow and cocked hip, she thrust out the handset. “What do you have to lose?”
Staring at the thing like it was a mud-covered spider, Karyn said, “Uh, my dignity, self-respect, sanity? Any of those will work. There is no way I’m going on the most popular radio show in the city to spill my guts. Everyone I know listens to this show. You’re the only person here who knows what happened. I plan to keep it that way.”
“So lie, use a different name. No one will know.”
“I’ll know.”
“You’re assuming he can’t help—”
“He can’t. You listen to the show just as much as I do. He might know a heck of a lot about the male/female thing, but somehow I think my problems run a bit deeper than the normal issues he handles. I do not need a sex expert.”
“That man is an expert on more than just sex. He knows how to handle a woman, make her feel special. Although, if you ask me, a sexpert is precisely what you need.”
Anne frowned and Karyn thought, Oh, shit. Her best friend bright and animated…that was normal. Her best friend with a mission…that was just scary.
“That man could charm the panties off anyone—including you. He’d have you naked and panting before fears and your overactive brain could sabotage you.”
Standing up, Karyn paced past her friend toward the stereo. She should just turn the damn thing off. Instead she turned back and asked, “What do you think he’s going to say?”
Anne lifted one challenging brow. “It’s more what I expect he could do.”
“Do? What, you think he’ll pimp for me? Find a man willing to take on the challenge?”
Anne twirled the phone in her hand. “Nope. I expect he’d help you himself if you asked.”
Her knees went weak, almost like someone had reached in and pulled the bones straight through the bottom of her feet. “Asked. You expect me to ask Dr. Desire for sex?”
“Hell, yes.”
“Hell, no.”
“He’s precisely what you need. He definitely knows his way around a woman’s body. Any man who can talk about women and pleasure the way he does…” Her friend trailed off into a wistful sigh. “At least call him.”
Karyn shook her head, not sure what to say. There was no way she could ask Dr. Desire for sex. On air no less!
Narrowing her eyes, Anne jabbed the phone toward her. “If you don’t, I will.”
Karyn’s heart seemed to seize in her chest. Pulling her gaze away, she decided to ignore the pointed gesture.
Anne shrugged and started dialing.
Snatching the phone from her, midpunch, she stabbed the off button and hid it behind her back.
With a smirk Anne said, “I have a cell phone, you know.”
Karyn growled under her breath. Arguing with Anne made her almost as frustrated as fighting with her big brothers always had. A tiny part of her missed those moments with her family, when she could be herself, when her older brothers had acted like annoying, interfering older brothers. No one except Anne fought with her now.
“Look, I’m not asking that man to sleep with me.”
“Fine. But call him. It can’t hurt to tell him your story, see if he has any advice.”
Karyn swayed. Sure, she’d considered calling before. The only thing that had stopped her was an absolute certainty that it wouldn’t do any good.
Crossing the room, Anne laid a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve tried everything else. What do you have to lose?”
She gave up with an exasperated groan. “What am I supposed to say to him? Hi, my name is Karyn and I’m a victim of rape?”
“Well, that depends on what you’re looking for. I’d suggest you start with the fact you haven’t had sex in five years and go from there.”
Plopping down onto her sofa, Karyn dialed the number for Dr. Desire’s hot line, 1-800-4DESIRE and cringed. It sounded a little too close to a phone-sex line for her peace of mind. But if this would get Anne off her back for a while it’d be worth any discomfort. She’d call, tell him her problem and just see if he had any suggestions.
What she wouldn’t do was ask him for sex.
Her heartbeat quickened as the line connected and rang. The bundle of nerves in the pit of her stomach seemed to tighten and churn as she explained to the show’s producer why she was calling.
After being placed on hold, Karyn breathed deeply in a vain attempt to dispel the emotions jittering through her. She’d explain her situation—leaving out most of the details—and then when he couldn’t offer her anything constructive would hang up and forget she’d ever dialed the number.
She felt better, until she looked up into her friend’s expectant eyes.
“I still think you should ask him for sex. I’m telling you, that man knows his way around a woman’s body. The only thing you’d be thinking with him touching you is more, more, more.”
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