more than usual. Sure, now he cared. Where had that interest been five minutes ago?
Katy’s voice continued, tightening and turning to an emotionless monotone while she recited the bare-bones facts he really didn’t want to hear.
“It was terrifying and a long time ago. But I can’t seem to move past it. I’ve tried so many things, listened to so many people. No one seems to have the answer.”
“The answer to what?” The sound of his own voice coming through the headphones shocked him. Why had he asked her that?
“I can’t have sex. I want to.” The girl groaned softly, the sound lodging right next to the knot at the bottom of his stomach. “God, I want to. But even thinking about it—I freeze up.”
His eyes locked with Michael’s through the pane of glass between them, narrowing to slits. His jaw clamped so tight he thought the entire audience could probably hear the grinding sound.
This girl had a serious problem. Not the “my boyfriend won’t go down on me,” “my girlfriend won’t do a threesome,” “is this burning sensation something to worry about” kind of stuff he dealt with in a normal night. She needed some professional help. She did not need him.
This had disaster written all over it. His show was bubblegum and handcuffs, not emotional turmoil.
He’d fallen into the job as Dr. Desire. A few comments to a late-night caller and before he knew it, what had been a play-the-records, punch-the-buttons kind of job had turned into hours of sex and relationship discussions that led to more than he’d ever imagined. But he’d worked hard over the past five years to build a public persona, to provide confidence and helpful information to those seeking sexual answers and a push to try something new.
The people who called into his show—the people that got past Michael’s supposed screening process—mostly wanted relationship advice or to share their own fantasies or be turned on.
He was prepared for that. He was not prepared for this.
“Katy, as much as I’d like to help you, I’m not a doctor. It sounds to me like you need to see a professional.”
“I’ve talked to a therapist. Four, in fact. None of them helped.”
He looked again at Michael, raising his hands in the universal sign for “What the hell do I do now?”
His producer’s response was the cut sign—a hand across his throat. He’d like nothing better than to end this call, but he didn’t think that would be a very good idea. Not for Katy. And certainly not for the show. His female listeners—who comprised more than half his audience—would raise hell. How could he extract himself without appearing cold and indifferent?
“Well, Katy. Maybe you just need to give yourself some more time. You had to have been young. You barely sound old enough to drink.” He pushed out another laugh, trying to maintain the tone of the show despite feeling stuck between a rock and a hard place.
“I’m twenty-six and it hasn’t gotten any better in five years. That’s a long time. I want a husband and kids. At the rate I’m going I’ll be fifty before I have sex again.” Another desperate sound echoed across the line and twanged the nerves at the bottom of his spine. “I don’t think I could handle that.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. You’ll have sex when you’re ready. I have to ask—” although something told him he’d be better off if he didn’t “—what makes you think you’d be any different with me?”
“I honestly didn’t mean to say that. But I’ve been listening to your show for a long time and it’s obvious you know what you’re talking about. Maybe that’s what I need, a man who really understands how to give a woman pleasure. Who knows how to ignore the fear.”
Chris shifted in his seat, completely surprised that the quivery little dip in her voice there at the end had caught his attention.
“You should never ignore the fear, Katy. Listen to your body, it knows what you can handle.”
Chris paused, leaning in closer to the mike. He really wanted to help this woman, but he couldn’t, not without risking everything he’d built. His show walked a line between offering professional-sounding advice and providing an opinion. Chris tried hard to stay far away from that line. One toe over could cost him everything. One lawsuit because he’d said the wrong thing to the wrong person…Katy was just too close to that edge for comfort.
“I know you understand I can’t sleep with you, but please find another therapist. Maybe this time his or her suggestions will work. The fact you were willing to call into the show tells me how important this is for you and how much you’re willing to risk to get what you want. You don’t need me. You need to trust yourself. Find a nice man who’ll understand and go slowly with you. If you need the number of a therapist, stay on the line, and I’ll get the information for you.”
“Thank you.”
He’d expected her voice to waver or maybe crack with disappointment. It didn’t. In fact, she seemed almost, well, relieved.
“ARE YOU HAPPY NOW? I made a complete ass of myself in front of half the south.”
“Sure you did…Katy.” Anne winked before hobbling to the kitchen and coming back with a half-empty bottle of butterscotch schnapps. “No one but me knows that was you on the radio.”
“And it better stay that way.”
Anne smiled. “Of course.”
Karyn fought the urge to say something snide to wipe the expression off her face. Her friend hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d been the idiot who’d called and blurted out a request for sex.
“You know, I never would have said that if you hadn’t been pounding at me about how perfect he would be as my sex stud.”
Pouring another drink, Anne looked over the edge of her glass. “I think you said exactly what you wanted to. Not that it matters.”
“Oh, it matters.”
“Besides, I happen to agree with him.”
“What? You’re the one who told me to sleep with him—”
“Not about that. I think you need to find a man, Karyn. One who understands what you’ve gone through. One who’ll go slow and take things one step at a time.”
Karyn paced to her bookshelf and back. Realizing she still held the phone in her hand, she tossed it away in disgust. What? Did they all think she was stupid? Of course that was what she needed.
“Absolutely. And a guy like that isn’t hard to find. Because telling a man on the first date that there won’t be any sex in his foreseeable future due to the fact that I’m a rape survivor really turns men on.”
“So, don’t tell him.”
Turning to her friend, Karyn cocked her head to the side and stared. “You’re the one who said I need to find a man who understands. Kinda hard to do if I don’t tell him.”
“So, just not on
