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Waking Up in Vegas(8)

By:Stephanie Kisner


Jensen chewed her bottom lip. Which was erotic as hell.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

She shook her head and stopped turning her lip into breakfast. “Nothing some strong coffee won’t fix.”

She took a sip from her mug and groaned.

My stiffy was instantaneous.

I choked on my own mouthful and rolled my stool as far forward as possible to hide my lap. This was not good.

She cocked her head to one side. “You okay?”

I nodded and mimed the drink going down the wrong pipe.

“Now there’s an idea. I’ll bet the caffeine’ll hit quicker if I breathe it...” She drank and mmm’d again and everything rushed south. I could’ve driven railroad spikes with the steel in my pants after that one.

This would be a very long four hours if I didn’t get that mug out of her hands.



“Good morning, Las Vegas! And what a fantastic Monday morning it is. I’m sure you remember last week when I was all alone in here—well, it was for a good reason. Quite a beautiful reason, actually. Today, we welcome Jensen to your mornings with KLVR/Rock 108.” She had already turned on her mic and I nodded at her to speak.

“Thanks, Tack. My name is Jensen, and I’m a very recent transplant from Kansas City. I’d always wanted to take a Las Vegas vacation, but could never quite swing it. So instead, I up and moved here. Vegas is amazing, and I’m thrilled that now I’m part of it.” She flashed me a smile before continuing.

Total honesty here—I have no idea what else she said. Because holy shit, her on-air voice was pure porn star. Smooth with a touch of throaty on the vowels… in my mind, she already had her knees crossed behind my head and those ragged edges were from screaming for God.

Jensen was waving at me—what the hell? Oh, the ad sheets she was supposed to read. I mouthed Sorry as I slid them across the counter.

I could hear the ratings going up already. Whoever hired her was a genius. And was going to die, if I made it through our timeslot without my scrotum exploding.

She was good. And definitely not new to co-hosting. As she wrapped up her read, she counted down with the fingers of one hand so that I was ready with a song block when she got to zero.



“Are you always this spacey?” She chuckled and hopped down from her stool to top off her coffee.

“It’s never happened before. Sorry. You have a beautiful voice.” Me, rattled? Not a chance.

It was just hard to concentrate with my pulse pounding a bossa nova in my dick.

“So I’m your first? Nice.” She winked at me over the top of her mug and took a long swallow. With another moan. Of course.

“Should I give you a little private time with your coffee? I’ve never seen anyone go this nuts over Bed & Breakfast Blend.”

She chuckled again, and I didn’t think I could honestly get any stiffer.

Wrong.

Jesus.

“My throat was a little sore this morning. Too much screaming last night, I think.”

The top just blew off my dick.

I must have looked strange. Or like I was being strangled, because she continued. “At the movers. They didn’t show up until nearly sunset. Then they tried to demand another five hundred bucks because nobody told them that my condo has two stories and apparently, taking things up a flight of stairs is a premium service. They broke the leg on my sofa… do you want to hear all this?”

Not really. But her cheeks, which had seemed a little too pale a moment ago, had gone pink, and her eyes were doing a fascinating flashing-thing. My testosterone-soaked brain had transferred this face to underneath me, attached to her naked body. My dick throbbed on and I had to practically drape myself over the counter to hide what was doing behind my zipper.

And so help me, if she made another throaty noise over that java, I’m breaking the carafe.



And so the morning went on. I swear, everyone in the building dropped in to say hello. Various jocks from our sister stations invited themselves on-air, turning on the guest mic and basically taking over my show. The advertisements weren’t played even close to on time, music was forgotten, and I think we only did one more update on driving conditions.

I was invisible in my own booth.

I could understand wanting to meet the new morning girl. And she was charming and cute and had me grinding my teeth. But I barely got a wave or a Hi, Tack. You’d think the crowds would have deflated my erection. But they asked her questions and she kept talking and her voice was like a cockring that came right in through my ears.

And then we played a commercial for Viagra. How appropriate that I got to hear a warning about erections lasting for four hours. Sweet Christ, I could be doing permanent damage here. Was it ten o’clock yet?