Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Hit The Post

Tuesday morning rolled around. As I was getting ready to go to work I was well aware that I was supposed to stop at Pamela's Place a few minutes after noon. Just a sales service call... review how the ads were working... change the copy if needed... pick up a check for that week's ads and, hopefully, a few more weeks in advance...   But, of course, I had a sense that something else might happen. So I made sure I was wearing clean clothes.  It was the least I could do.

While I was airing the 8 o'clock hour news feed from ABC Contemporary Radio I noticed the light on the control room phone was blinking. Nothing unusual there.  I did have listeners who could dial a phone ya know. They weren't all cows grazing out there on the range.   I answered it the way I always did by giving the station call letters “KCTW.”  Of course, I was versatile.  If I had a contest going I would say, “KCTW, you're the fifth caller!” and hang up.   I usually didn't go past the eighth caller as a winner since the first time I did a twelfth caller I realized that the same guy was the first, fourth, ninth and twelfth caller. That was kind of depressing.  But this particular call wasn't depressing. The caller responded to my “KCTW!” with “Billy? Is that you?”

I almost said something smart-ass but something about the sleepy female voice caused me to simply say, “Yes.”
“Mmmm you sound good this morning...”
“Where are you?”
“In bed... nice and warm... listening to your voice... thinking things...” she said.
“Sounds nice,” I said. I thought it was Pam but I couldn't tell for sure. It wasn't the first time I'd had a naughty woman call while on the air.
“I'm coming out of the news in twenty I need to put the phone down for just a second.”
I cued up “Cut The Cake” by AWB and listened for the news sign-off, made my flawless segue into the song and opened the microphone. I said something devilishly clever, gave the time and temp and hit the twenty-two second post like a seasoned pro. I made sure the mic was closed when I picked up the phone.
“I'm back,” I said.
“Wow, that was like going backstage. Cool.”
Now I was sure it was Pamela.
“Well, you know what happens to good-looking women who wander around backstage all alone, don't you?”
“Is it anything like what's gonna happen to a disc jockey who wanders into the back of my store today?”
I laughed.  She sounded very dirty.
“I think I'll end up an unemployed radio guy if I don't hang up right away,” I said.

She made a harumphing sound. “OK. But play a song for me.”
“It has to be something current.”
She told me what she wanted to hear. It was something I could play so I agreed.
Then she told me what she was going to do to herself if I played it next.
“Hey! Save some for me, Pamela,” I said.
She sounded so hot and bothered.
I hung up and cued the next record.
Going from AWB to the Steve Miller single that Pam picked I opened the mic, “Listen up cowgirls... everybody headin' out to make big money this morning, lemme hear a big Whoo-hoo!” The Hoo left my throat at :07 of “Take The Money and Run.”
Billy The Kid hit another post on the button. 
Lord, Top 40 radio was so much fun.

“Get in here, you!” Pamela said when she opened the back door of her store.
She lead me to the couch in her office. She had on a denim skirt, a white gauzy top, obviously no bra but lots of craft jewelry like she sold in the store-- necklace, bracelets, rings on several fingers.
I was leaning back in the corner of the couch and she was sitting to my right. She was sitting on her
left hip and facing me. She went right for my belt, unbuckled me, unsnapped me, and pulled my zipper down. I tried to get my hands on her but she fended me off. “Just relax, baby. I'll take care of everything today,” she said.

I was already stiff when she got my cock out of my pants.
A slight moan escaped from her mouth.  Her lips were slightly parted and the tip of her tongue was visible just behind her lower lip. She stroked me with her right hand for a while. Her eyes were locked on the head of my cock. She switched hands and tilted her head without breaking her stare at my dick. She was like a beautiful lizard sizing up a juicy bug for her lunch.

Pamela leaned forward-- but she didn't suck me. Instead, she flicked my cock head with her tongue a few times and then pressed her lips onto it-- a kiss. But she didn't take me into her mouth.
“God you're a fuckin' tease,” I groaned.
She smiled, still looking nowhere but straight at my hard dick.
“Feels good, doesn't it?” Her voice was a gruff whisper.
She started working it with two hands. Leaning forward she drizzled spit all over the head, got it on her left hand and stroked me quickly while she cupped my balls with her right. 

She kept on, slowly, until I was drained of cum.

Thursday, February 2, 2012


My boss was working in his office alone when I finished carting up Pam's spot and putting it in the control room. I tapped on the door and Bob waved me in.
“Hey! Pretty late in the day for my big time mornin' guy to be hangin' around,” he said.
I grinned back at him and told him the big news-- that I'd sold my first flight of ads.
“Well, excuse me, my morning guy slash sales guy! Way to go!”

He asked what account I'd brought in.
“That little, funky gift shop in town, Pamela's,” I said.
“No shit? That's great, kid! Waytuhgo.”
“Thanks. It took me about four or five calls but I closed it today. Got a check and everything,” I said.
“From Donnie?” Bobby said.
“Donnie? No, Pamela.”
He looked concerned.
“Is there a problem? I already gave Darlene the check and cut the spots. They start Thursday morning,” I said.
“No... no... go ahead. I'm sure it'll be fine,” he said.
“Good. Ya had me worried. Who's Donnie?”
“Donnie Scoggins. You know, Donnie Scoggins Ford... the ads you run every stop set.   Hell, you met Donnie right here a few weeks ago,” he said.
I did remember Mr. Scoggins. He had been shootin' the shit with Bobby in the office late one afternoon over drinks. Looked to be in his mid-50's. Bob introduced him as “our biggest advertiser.”
“Oh sure. I know who he is... I knew Pamela's last name was Scoggins... just didn't connect the two. I guess I thought Scoggins was a common name around here or sumpthin',” I said.

“Nah. Donnie's old man started the business... used to sell tractors and stuff too... he was the only Scoggins I ever heard of around here... left the business to Donnie when he died. Rough transition for a while, but it's goin' OK now... doin' real good 'cause he spends a lotta dough with us.”
“So I guess his daughter's learning retail to take over for him some day,” I said.
“What the fuck ya talkin' about, his daughter? They don't have any kids.”
“Pam's his daughter, right?”
Uncle Bobby snorted and then laughed loud and hard. He motioned for me to close the door.

“How 'bout some Jack?”
I nodded and he poured a double shot of Jack Daniels in each of two glasses.
“I didn't want Darlene hearin' us,”
We drank.
“Billy, I don't know what sweet lil' Pammy mighta told ya, but that extra fine piece is Mrs. Donnie Scoggins.
He laughed again and said, “Here, let me pour ya another... look like ya saw a ghost... or, hey, maybe you're just thinkin' of those tight fuckin' jeans she favors.”

I was stunned but got my wits together enough to say, “Uncle Bobby, what difference does it make to me that she's married... to Donnie Scoggins or anybody else?”
“Aw, don't bullshit a bullshitter, Kid. There's no way you've been in that store a half dozen times and it didn't pass through your brain that it might just be nice to get your end wet at Pamela's Place.”

He had a point. No sense in denying that.
“Well... that much is true, boss. But she's kinda old for me ya know... young for Mr. Scoggins I guess... but kinda old for me.  She is a looker though, I'll give ya that."
“You're what, twenty-two?”
I nodded.

“Yeah, guess she's got about eleven years on you. And Donnie's got twenty-one or so on her.”
We drank in silence. He poured our third double shots of Jack.
“She's the hottest damn thing on two legs around here, that's the fuckin' truth” he said.
Bob had a hundred mile stare going.
We drank some more.
“Kid, Scoggins Ford's our biggest account. I handle him directly.”
“I know, Boss,” I said.
We finished our drinks and got up to leave Uncle Bobby's office.
“You know, _______ is just a two hour drive west of here. Lots to do.  Lotta hot young chicks there,” he said.
“So I've heard. But my boss makes me work six days a week,” I said.
“That guy sounds like a real asshole!” he said as he slapped me on the back, “Hey, good work makin' your first sale. You're doin' great on the air too, Kid.”

In bed that night I was trying to clear my mind of all the stuff flying around in there. The alarm was set for 4:45AM. I had to be on the air at 6 AM. I needed sleep. But the thing that kept me awake was the idea that my boss expected me to fuck Pam Scoggins. I don't mean that he wanted me to; but he expected me to. I think that he was telling me that, if it was him, he'd sure as hell take a run at her.

It felt like he was daring me.  Which was weird because I also thought Pamela was daring me to fuck her.