Title: Dirty Talk
Author: Joey Jameson
Genre: M/M Erotic Thriller Romance
Release Date: December 19, 2015
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.
The familiar beeping in his headset stirred Vegas from his own thoughts. He was somewhere other than in that chair, chewing on his nails and twisting a long piece of expensively highlighted blonde hair between his index and middle finger. He was somewhere warm and sunny, sipping on a sickly sweet cocktail and enjoying the feeling of the sun on his already tanned skin. The longer his eyes remained closed, the more intensely real the scenario became; the feeling of the hard back chair he was sitting in melted away and was replaced with the comforting and luxurious feeling of a soft, plush lounger. The scent of stale coffee and bad cologne wafted away and dissolved into the aroma of fresh, salty sea air. Instead of moans and groans being faked from the other cubicles around him, he swore he could detect the faint cooing of seagulls in the distance.
It beeped again in his ear, louder this time and almost more persistent as if the sound grew and became more aggravated as it went on unanswered. His big blue eyes fluttered open only to be assaulted by the sight of bright and unflattering fluorescent lighting. Vegas let out a long sigh and looked around at his surroundings as his fingers blindly found the answer button on his computer screen. There was a faint crackling as the line was connected followed by a silent pause.
This was always the worst part. The beginning. No matter how many years Vegas had been doing this job, the first few moments of each new call were always the trickiest; both parties unsure of how to proceed and nerves getting the best of the caller. If they could get past the first few awkward silences, then it was certainly a lot more fun. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he breathed into the headset.
“You’ve landed with Vegas,” he whispered in his most sultry tone, “What’s your pleasure?”
Silence. Except for the sound of shallow breathing.
Vegas knew the type; excitement was settling in as the caller began to realise the possibilities of the situation he’d just gotten himself in.
Where will you take it, handsome?
“Hey, how you doing tonight, hot stuff?” Vegas tried again as he ran through all the possible chat lines he could throw out to the caller to get him talking and opening up. “My name’s Vegas, you lookin’ for a good time tonight?”
More breathing on the other end. Ragged and short, as if he was jogging or something.
But Vegas knew he wasn’t jogging. He was pumping his fist, Vegas could tell. He let a few more seconds pass before he tried again, but instead of talking he decided to let out a few soft moans of pleasure to signal to the caller that he was into it too.
That always gets them going.
“…Your name’s Vegas,” came the voice on the other end finally. He sounded husky and gruff. And manly.
Vegas couldn’t decide if it was a question or a statement, but he went with it anyway.
“Yah baby,” he cooed softly.
“Never been,” he said simply.
“Well tonight’s your lucky night,” he added with a soft giggle.
“Let’s hope so.”
His voice was low, and his words were accentuated and brief like he was deliberately trying to keep his voice down. To Vegas, a sexy voice was all he needed to get into a call. It always helped if he related the voice to a celebrity’s.
“So what you look like?” the caller asked.
Brad Pitt. This guy sounded like Brad Pitt.
“Hmm, what do you want me to look like?”
If he wanted to keep the guy on the phone, it paid to throw that question back on the caller.
“I like muscles,” he muttered as if through gritted teeth.
This guy sounds close already…
“Well then this is your lucky night baby, cause I’m nothing but muscle. Hard, slick, smooth and beautifully built,” Vegas shot out adjective after adjective, accentuating each one as if they were satin covered kisses.
“Are you smooth all over?” he breathed.
“Cock and balls?”
“Shaved perfectly clean,” Vegas lied.
“Oh fuck yeah…”
“You like that do ya, baby?”
“Hell yah, Jesus I’m so fuckin’ hard right now.”
That assertion always seemed so honest, Vegas never got tired of hearing it.
“I bet you are,” Vegas let out a loud exhale right into the mouth piece. He wanted the caller to think he was right there with him, next to him wherever he was, his lips against his ear. “What can I call you, Cowboy?”
Another pause as the caller thought of an alias.
“Well David, I gotta tell ya, your voice is really turning me on right about now.”
Another lie. But you gotta fake it to make it.
“Fuck yeah…It’s making me wanna touch myself, actually…”
This guy was getting into it. Vegas could see dollar signs as he closed his eyes and let his basic instincts take over. He leaned back in his chair and tilted his head up to the ceiling as the caller began to serenade him with his dirty words.
“If I was there with you, would you let me kiss you?”
“Oh fuck, I’d love to have your lips on mine.”
“What your lips look like?” David asked, his words coming out an excited whisper.
“They’re big…fat and perfect for cock sucking…”
“Jesus, I’d love to stick my cock in your mouth…”
“Easy there Cowboy,” he slowed, “Tell me David…Would you kiss me hard or soft?”
“Soft…Then hard…And I’d run my hand down your smooth hard chest and play with your nipples as I kissed you.”
“Oh, David, I’m playing with them now…They’re so fucking hard already…”
“Fuck, I wanna lick them…”
“I can feel your lips on them now…Don’t tease me, I want your mouth all over me…”
Vegas was lost now, eyes firmly closed and ready to give this guy the time of his life. The more Vegas got into a call, the more he felt the urge to actually touch himself. There was no denying the effect dirty talk had on him and the wet patch he went home with in his pants at the end of a shift was testament to that. His imagination was pure filth and beyond powerful. It had the ability to bring him out of his own body and into a land of intense pleasure and erotic feeling with pure and simple visualisation. He could feel the pressure in his trousers as his cock hardened, but he held off from touching it. It was almost more erotic to restrain from touching it than to whip it out and let it free.
“Fuck I would lick you from head to toe, pausing every time you cried out…You like being teased, don’t you?”
“Oh David…Please, please…”
“Can you feel my tongue on your body?”
“Yes…It’s so wet and hot on my skin…”
This guy was actually pretty good.
“Where else you want it?”
“Take my jeans off…Please, David, I want it so bad…”
“You want me to suck your cock?”
“Yes, baby, please…”
“How badly do you want me to suck it?”
“So badly, more than anything…”
“Suck my cock, David…Suck the cum right outta me.”
“Oh fuck yes…Keep saying that…I’m close.”
“You’re making me so hot, my dick is rock hard…”
“Are you jerking it for me?”
“I’m jerking it so hard, David. Jesus it feels so good…” Vegas lied, despite his hard-on screaming otherwise.
“I bet you taste so fucking good, I wish I could taste your sweet cum in my mouth.”
“Would you swallow it?”
“Fuck yes…Fuck yeah, I want you to cum in my mouth…Hell yessss,” he hissed down the phone.
Vegas could tell he was on the brink. He opened his eyes and looked at the computer screen in front of him to see the time of the call.
5 minutes 24 seconds.
He knew the longer he kept this guy on the phone, the bigger the commission. He went in for the kill.
“Jesus, David…I want you so badly…”
“I want you too…”
“Oh hell yeah, baby…David! David, I want you to fuck me…”
But before Vegas could elaborate any further, he heard the all-to familiar sound that could only and best be described as pure and utter release. The caller let out a series of deep moans and groans, followed by a couple of ‘fucks’ and ‘oh yeahs’. Vegas could sense his body bucking as the phone seemed to jitter and shake with his orgasm as the caller came down the phone line.
Then there was more breathing. Slower this time, returning to normal, taking with it the feeling of intensity that was hanging in the air.
And just like that, Vegas’ own boner deflated as quickly as it had arrived. Nothing turned him off more than a guy who couldn’t contain his load long enough to secure a good payoff.
Then after a second or two, without even a ‘goodbye’ or a ‘thanks for ride’, the phone line went dead.
Disappointment flooded his body as the rush of endorphins faded and fizzled away as he was left feeling unsatisfied and frustrated and alone.
He sighed and sat back in his chair, closing his eyes and regaining his composure.
This was the way it always was. Call after call.
What did he expect? It was the name of the game. He wasn’t in this to be loved and kissed goodnight or brought flowers with the promise of a second date. He had a position to fulfil, and that’s as far as it went. He wasn’t any more loved than he was respected. He was a fantasy. A means to an end for the people who weren’t brave enough to go after what they wanted in the real world.
And nothing was ever going to change that.
Vegas readjusted himself in his trousers and sat up again in his chair. He ran a hand through his long, surfer-blonde toussled hair and looked around the room. He could feel his cheeks grow red as he met the all-too aware stare of his best friend London, a huge grin spread across his angular face.
Vegas straightened up further and pretended to busy himself on his computer as he cleared his throat.
“Good call?” London teased through a shit-eating grin.
“You could say that.”
A beeping in his headset sobered himself further as he coughed again to rid himself of the tickling in the back of his mouth before answering his next call.
“You’ve landed with Vegas, how you doin’ tonight?”
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 peeled for more titillating tales from him in the near future.
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