TITLE: Dirty Talk
AUTHOR NAME: Joey Jameson
GENRE: M/M erotic thriller
Vegas is a hot phone sex operator who knows just how to make your deepest, darkest fantasies come true either with a gentle whisper in your ear or with a rough growling command. When he’s in control, you know you’re in good hands. Vegas can tickle or scratch whatever itch or fetish a caller can throw at him.
But his job at the exclusive ‘Black Vanilla’ has its dark side, which becomes all too clear when Vegas receives a call one night that hits a little too close to home.
Somewhere out there, someone’s watching him. Someone who’s taken their fantasy one step too far. It isn’t long before Vegas finds himself entangled in a web of dark and dangerous obsession. An obsession that can only end one way.
“Dirty Talk” will take you deep into the world of stimulating oral desire and blur the lines that exist between our ultimate fantasies and harsh reality.
“You’ve landed with Vegas, what’s your pleasure?” Vegas cooed into his headset.
“Uh, h-hi,” said a shy quiet voice that sounded far away.
“How we doing tonight?” Vegas drawled.
“Good, uh, I’ve never… You know… I mean, I don’t normally do this sort of thing.”
“Hey no worries, you’ve come to the right place if you’re looking for a good time.”
“My name’s… James.”
“Well nice meeting you James. Like I said, I’m Vegas… And like the strip; I’m open all night and here for your pleasure!”
Inside Vegas was cringing at his own choice of come-on line. At how corny he had to be if he wanted anything to come of a call.
James chuckled to himself and made a sound like he was shifting positions.
“So, are you up for a good time, James?”
Use their name, they love that, Vegas could hear London’s immortal words in his ear as he sat back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk. He had kicked off his flip-flops and from where he sat; he inwardly admired the tanned skin and golden hairs on his firm legs. While not overly vain, picking out his good qualities always helped him to sell the call.
“Uh, yeah, I guess.” James hesitated, the shyness coming through in his shaky words.
“Good, me too, so why don’t we start by you telling me what you’re into,” Vegas purred. He was imagining a shy Jake Gyllenhaal, quiet and demure, but with a killer body to make up for his social shortcomings.
James chuckled uncomfortably to himself again, obviously unsure as to how to approach this. A moment of silence passed and Vegas decided to take the lead.
“Can I tell you what I look like?”
“Yeah, please… I’d like that.”
“What kind of guys do you normally go for?”
“Umm, I dunno…”
“Well I’m pretty muscular, is that alright?” Vegas asked.
Excellent, going with beefy.
“I love going to the gym and working out,” Vegas lied, putting on his best straight-boy voice. “I love working up a sweat and watching the tiny drops roll down my tight body.”
He could hear more shifting sounds coming from James. Vegas hoped it was him hardening in his pants at the thought of Vegas shirtless and sweaty.
“Yeah, I like the sound of that….”
“Sometimes when I’m at the gym, I get so turned on looking at the other hot guys all around me.”
“I bet you do… I bet you get lots of guys staring at you.”
“Mmm hmm. I love it when they stare. I always assume they’re thinking of getting naked with me… Would you like to get naked with me?”
“Oh, fuck yeah!” James exclaimed.
He was getting excited now, Vegas could tell by his tone of voice; his breathing was getting quicker, and his voice slightly strained.
“When I’m done working out, and I’m all hot and sweaty, I love taking off my shirt and letting everyone look at my big pecs and muscular biceps.”
“Are-are you hairy or smooth?” he stammered.
Always a tough question to answer.
Does he want me to be smooth or hairy?
“Oh, baby—I’m smooth all over.” Vegas took a stab in the dark and hoped it was what his caller was hoping for.
The grunt followed by what sounded like a zipper confirmed that Vegas had made the right assumption.
“All over?” he asked, his words now coming out in short bursts, as if he was straining to speak at all.
He’s jerking it already.
“Yup… allllll over, baby,” he purred again, accentuating his words for erotic effect.
Joey Jameson lives in Brighton, UK where he spends his days as a self-proclaimed beach bum. He believes there is nothing better in life than being by the sea with a large glass of red in hand and the sun on your face. His work is best appreciated with a hard drink and the lights down low and will leave you wondering just what goes on in that twisted little mind of his. He is the author of “Candy from Strangers”, “Twisted” among other pieces of naughty fiction. Keep your eyes pealed for more titilating tales from him in the near future.
Author Page: http://www.authoraevia.com/joey-jameson.html